As a bisexual mom in a straight-passing relationship, I sometimes feel guilty for identifying as queer

• I identify as bi, but most people can't tell because I'm a mom in a relationship with a man.
• The bisexual erasure hurts and takes a toll on my mental health.

I'm a bisexual woman. There, I said it.

Talking about my sexual identity makes me nervous. I often feel like an imposter — a woman encroaching on a land in which she isn't welcome. As a mother in a relationship with a man, I sometimes feel like I haven't earned the right to call myself bisexual. It's especially difficult when my friends and family all assume I'm a heterosexual woman.

That bisexual erasure takes a toll on my mental health — and makes me question if I should even be calling myself queer in the first place.

I can trace my queer identity back to college

In school, I had a crush on another woman who was a year younger than me. I kissed her at a party in front of my friends, and that was when I first experienced homophobia and bisexual erasure.

One friend told me, "You're only gay when you're drunk." Another girl refused to sit next to me in the dining hall, citing my newfound attraction to women and her own fear that I might try to hook up with her. Others have doubted me, arguing that I'm just looking for attention.

Previous partners have also told me I'm "weird" and shouldn't tell anybody about my bisexuality.

Then I started dating my current partner, who accepted me

We met and dated when we were teenagers, then we reconnected in our mid-20s.

When we rekindled our relationship, I learned he was as open as they come — understanding and liberal. But most of all, he accepted all of me. While he was aware of my sexual history, we never specifically addressed my sexuality until quite recently. Our son was born in 2015, and in the past few years it became apparent that my identity was something I needed to confront, even if it was just in the safety of our relationship.

Luckily, he never had a problem with my identifying as bisexual.

But our loving relationship leads many to assume I'm straight — and it hurts

When I examine the toll this has taken on my life, it feels like there's a stone in my belly and something heavy is hanging around my neck. I have bipolar 2, so there's already a lot affecting on my mental health. But the impact of feeling erased by society weighs on me constantly.

I feel like I'm illegitimate in my claim to bisexuality and I don't belong to the LGBTQ people. I feel like I don't "deserve" this label. All of this has created a current of depression that bubbles beneath the surface of my well-being. It's a constant self-doubt.

I love my partner, but I also can't help but feel ashamed for not ever being in a queer relationship that would properly "out" me.

Motherhood reinforces my 'straight' label

Sometimes I feel as if motherhood is the fulfillment of my compulsory heterosexuality — as if I've made good on my oath to be a good, quiet little wifey in service of the patriarchy.

After all, my family now looks perfectly nuclear, and while I'm deeply happy with my life and my family, I can't help but think that people get the wrong idea when they see us three together.

Sure, we're a family. But outsiders don't realize that my family could look a lot different.

Mostly, the erasure makes me feel guilty for even identifying as bisexual

I feel incredible guilt for laying claim to an identity when I currently suffer none of the homophobia that my openly queer friends and colleagues do. The bisexual erasure I experience is minor in a world where you can die because of your sexual orientation or gender identity — especially in South Africa, where I'm from.

Who am I to claim that I have a difficult time being queer when I passed on the queer experience to be with my partner?

At 34, I still feel like a pretend queer, but I'm working on it

My identity feels frozen in time and at odds with my daily reality. I feel ashamed to call myself a member of the LGBTQ community — the shame feels similar to the dark emotions I felt when I was a teenager and acutely aware of my attraction to women.

But these days I try to remind myself of who I really am and who I know myself to be. That's when I feel a temporary sense of peace. Perhaps just talking about my sexuality is a small step forward in reclaiming that identity. It's a means of saying I'm here, and, yes, I'm queer, too.