Heartbreak High: The friend I needed when I came out as bi

At 15, I was busy dating my long-term boyfriend while also obsessing over my unbelievably attractive female science partner, and one could say I was confused and a bit lonely. Naturally, I made my way to my high school’s Pride Club to find solace.  

Instead of finding the support I craved, I was given the once-over by members – almost like they were trying to gauge my ‘queer credentials’ based on my Glassons top, Taylor Swift tote-bag, and the photo of my boyfriend on my lock screen. I was made to feel like I wasn’t ‘queer enough’ to be in the club.  

I left school that day with a newly tightened ‘straight-jacket’ wrapped around my identity and caught a case of bisexual imposter syndrome.  

I’m nearly 20 now, and judgement or question of my sexuality still scares me. But the jacket loosened when I watched Heartbreak High.   

Netflix show Heartbreak High is best described as the Australian lovechild of Sex Education and Euphoria. With its array of diverse characters, the show creates a dynamic mix of relatability and contemporary relevance. Thrown into a plot where a hidden sex map is found at their high school, chaos ensues throughout the student body as the characters confront their approaches to love, identity, sex, and social politics.  

The characters are flawed, complex, and feel pivotably real. In another series, many of these characters would have been villainised. But Heartbreak High shows that they – like us – are just a bunch of kids. We’re exploring our identities, learning lessons as we go, messing things up, kissing the wrong person, kissing the right person, and crying about everything.  

Within the newly released second season, character Malakai realises he is bisexual after being attracted to the new guy at school. God – this storyline really hit close to home. I sat on the edge of my seat, anticipating the Pride Club from my high school to pop on screen and shove a whole lot of bisexual imposter syndrome onto him.  

But instead, it was Darren who came to Malakai’s side.  

“Literally everyone is queer now. I know that doesn’t make things easy, and I’m proud of you”. 

I didn’t realise I was crying until my mum had knocked on my bedroom door asking why I was blubbering like a whale. In the days following, the sentence replayed over and over in my head until I started bawling again.  

Darren’s words are what I needed to hear at 15. But now, it’s the friend who’s helped me heal. I’m still trying to untangle my bisexual imposter syndrome from my relationship with my sexuality. I still catch myself saying “I’m bi” like it’s a disappointment that needs softening.  

But now, the imposter syndrome which had dug itself into my identity has begun to retract its claws.