I'm a bisexual woman married to a man. People questioning my sexuality caused me to come out queer instead.

• I dated men and women as a young adult and identified as a bisexual.
• People started questioning my bisexuality when I married my husband.

I grew up in a home where I was frequently told it was OK to be gay, so I never had a formal coming out. I simply brought my first girlfriend home. Of course, it confused my family who had known me as a boy-crazy teenager. But the surprise quickly faded, and I continued to date men and women as a young adult.

But in 2014, I met my now husband who immediately accepted my bisexuality. I felt so content because I could express my sexuality while being comfortable in my relationship. People outside my relationship, though, criticized me for identifying as bisexual but choosing to settle down with a man.

I vividly remember the first time I was told I didn't count as a queer person

I play rugby, which intersects with the queer community. Years ago, on the sidelines of a game, my teammates were trying to guess who was queer.

I told them I was bisexual, and I'll never forget their reactions. "You don't count," one said. "Yeah, you picked a side," said another, referring to my husband.

Coming from queer people, this felt like an irrefutable truth, and it meant I wasn't part of the LGBTQ+ community. I carried that heavy weight with me for a long time. It also didn't help when people asked if I still had to tell people I was bisexual because I was married now.

I then came out as queer because my bisexuality did not come to an end when I chose a person to marry

My husband has always been extremely supportive of me expressing my queerness.

But when I decided to marry him, I did not become straight, just as I would not have become a lesbian if I married a woman. As the tired saying goes, it's not a phase. Bisexuality is not a phase that lasts until you pick a life partner.

But I was tired of trying to define and defend who I was attracted to and why. I remembered an old friend who, when asked about her sexuality, said, "I don't know. I'm just queer."

I tried the word queer on and it felt right — more right than bisexual ever did. Under the umbrella of queer, my sexuality could ebb and flow, morph, and grow. "Queer" didn't need explaining, or an Urban Dictionary lookup, or another flag to replace my perfectly good rainbow one.

As a queer person, I felt like I could just exist.

Though I'm still working on embracing it, I know there's no such thing as 'queer enough'

I understood why most people around me felt I "didn't count." In a hetero-passing relationship, I have the privilege of experiencing queer joy, attending pride, and waving my tricolored flag, while also being able to hide my queerness if I was in unsafe environments. I'm not the target of hate speech, I won't be refused service at an anti-gay business, and my right to marry my husband was never questioned.

So I don't call out other members of the LGBTQ+ community who say I "don't count." I acknowledge there are burdens I will never carry, and I'm thankful to all those who have welcomed me into the community with open arms.

But still: I am queer. I always have been, and I always will be. That doesn't change if I'm married or single. I will always be me.