MY HUSBAND IS THE STORY

June is Pride Month, which means conversations about sexuality become impossible to avoid.

For most of my life, I’ve known I was bisexual. There was never a dramatic realization or period of confusion. It was simply part of who I was.

When I eventually came out, I was already independent and serving in the Navy. I wasn’t asking anyone for permission, approval, or acceptance. I said what I had to say and moved on with my life.

And that’s largely what I’ve continued to do.

What sometimes surprises people is that I’m married to a man. Most people don’t know until I mention it. Then comes the moment of surprise, as if they’ve discovered a piece of information that suddenly changes everything they thought they knew about me.

The truth is that it changes almost nothing.

I’m still the same person I was five minutes before they learned it.

I’m a husband. I’m a veteran. I have a career that I’m proud of. I create music as Prophets of the Cosmic Darkness. I spend my time building things, solving problems, writing songs, and chasing creative ideas that probably make sense only in my own head.

My husband happens to be one of the reasons I’m able to do those things. He encourages me to pursue my goals, supports my music, and shares the responsibilities of building a life together. That’s the part that matters.

Not the label.

What frustrates me is how often people become more interested in the category than the person. Journalists, marketers, and social media platforms often want a simple description they can attach to someone. It makes for an easy headline.

But human beings are rarely that simple.

I’ve never wanted to be known as a bisexual artist. Not because I’m ashamed of who I am, but because my sexuality is not the reason I make music. It’s not the reason I get up for work every day. It’s not the reason I love my husband.

The reason I love my husband is because he’s a good person.

That feels far more important than any classification.

So while others may choose to celebrate Pride Month in their own way, I find myself thinking about something different: the importance of allowing people to be complete human beings.

Not symbols.

Not categories.

Not demographics.

Just people.

If there’s anything worth recognizing, it’s that every person is more complicated, more interesting, and more valuable than the labels attached to them.

I know I am.