There’s a version of me I’ve only met in the quiet moments — when the noise fades and all that’s left is the truth I’ve worked so hard to ignore.

I am bisexual. And I’m tired of pretending otherwise.

But I can’t live that way. Not yet.

The question comes up more often than people realize — sometimes as a joke, sometimes behind my back, and even sometimes right in front of me.

The other day, a member of fraternity life asked someone if I was gay — casually, like it meant nothing. The person flipped the question back: “Would it bother you if he were?”

He paused. Then nodded. Yeah, it would.

That moment lingers in my chest, quiet but heavy. No matter how much I give, how hard I work, or how loyal I am, there are parts of me that will never be truly welcome. Not in that version of brotherhood.

I’ve tried to laugh it off. I played along, awkwardly smiled through it, nodded when I wanted to scream.

I learned early on that in fraternity life, silence is protection. In this world of brotherhood and bonding, some brothers are more “brother” than others. This space I was stepping into wasn’t originally meant for someone like me.

Fraternities are supposed to develop better men — men who value truth, courage, service and character. Yet, when those values are twisted, when “brotherhood” becomes conditional and identity a liability, what are we really growing into?

I still love my fraternity. That’s what makes this so hard. I didn’t choose to hide. I was taught to — not overtly, but through the glances, the jokes and the way the room’s energy shifts when the topic comes up. Something unspoken echoes louder than anything I’ve ever said.

So, here is my truth — I am bisexual. I’m not confused, nor am I ashamed. I am who I am, and every day, I carry the weight of knowing that still isn’t fully accepted.

Even so, I refuse to let that break me.

As the new president of Lafayette’s Interfraternity Council, I’ve had to think hard about the kind of community we’re building. I want to build a fraternity life that lives up to its values — integrity, accountability, lifelong learning, brotherhood. But those values mean nothing if they exclude people like me.

This is my promise — not just to myself, but to every student who’s ever walked into a chapter meeting and wondered if they had to leave part of themselves at the door. I will fight for a fraternity life that doesn’t just tolerate queer people, but embraces us and celebrates us. Nobody should have to choose between belonging and being.

Maybe one day, I’ll look back and feel proud.

Today, however, I’m not writing this because I feel brave. I’m writing this because I feel broken.

I still can’t live my truth. Not yet. But if someone else gets to, because I stayed, then this ache was worth it.

William Gutiérrez ’27 is the president of the Lafayette Interfraternity Council.