I am 20 years old. Since puberty I have consistently had sexual fantasies about both men and women. I had a special kind of low sexual confidence — I was utterly disgusted by my desire for men, because I saw sex between men as inherently less than sex between men and women. I was ashamed of my desires for women, because I believed I was worthless and no woman would ever want me; I could never prove myself as a true man, i.e. someone who fucks women and is good at it. I’m still utterly petrified of sex with women, and embarrassed of my desires for men, but I don’t have any hangups about the concept of having sex with them.

I’d been having conversations about whether Frank Ocean would release a new album for at least a year, but I never thought it would have real significance for me. Somehow, I knew I had desires for men, but I had never had that moment where I said: yes, I’m bi. It’s surprising how (relatively) happily you can live a lie. I had mental health issues, but my sexuality wasn’t making my life a living hell, it was tucked away behind a door in my brain. I think I could have been fairly happy staying with the belief that I was straight. I had the feelings hidden away enough that I could pursue sex and relationships with women and not give much of a thought to the other side, even though I looked at men and felt some attraction, and maybe every month or so masturbated to directly the thought of a man or a penis. Never be surprised at how easy it is to ignore stuff that’s right there!

The first few times I listened to his new albums, I felt that they were beautiful and I wanted to cry. I wasn’t sure why. He didn’t actually directly explore his bisexual feelings except in a few lyrics, like ‘I don’t cut bitches no more, but your bitch my exception’. Mostly the gender of the person he was talking about loving, or fucking, or not loving, was unclear. That’s exactly it though. This new music represents a progression, towards greater ambiguity and complexity. This makes it harder to hold down, make sense of. Is it a happy or a sad album, are individual songs even categorisable in that way? This ambiguity spoke to my own ‘confusion’. I didn’t realise that it was really possible to be bisexual. I viewed my ‘gay’ thoughts through a negative lense, but I said to myself, you’re attracted to women, how could you be gay?

And it was true. I have an openly bisexual close friend, but it never occurred to me that having sexual and sensual thoughts about people of both genders meant that I was bisexual, or anything. Call it cognitive dissonance I suppose. I’m thankful for the work I’ve done on my mental health, because even with the initial shock and pain of accepting my desires, I wouldn’t have been able to admit this to myself and others even months ago.

I don’t think it was just because of this music that I could finally see myself as bisexual, but it was really important. It was an celebration of life, from disparate angles: Berlin queer dance scene; Black life in America, especially the South; his Odd Future years. Frank said, this is me and I am all of these things. It’s a vital album from that perspective, and I’ll never be able to undo what it did for me. It’s often said that music says things that people can’t otherwise, and I agree. I couldn’t convince myself that I was bisexual, but somehow with the words and melodies of a stranger it all made sense.

I agree that it’s important for people to understand their own sexuality, but a really important criterion for sexual openness is self-esteem and confidence. If you hate yourself, or are ashamed of who you are in a general sense, you might not even acknowledge your own brilliant sexuality for what it is. Maybe it would make a difference if there were more bisexual men in the public eye, because it might help something which was always there, dormant, really click. All we can do for now is accept ourselves.