Boundaries, Thresholds and Love: why it’s time to take back ‘Bi’. Repost.

I promised you reposts while I’m on holiday, so reposts are what you will receive! This post- Boundaries, Thresholds and Love: why it’s time to take back ‘Bi’–  is extremely close to my heart. I’ve poured a lot of time and love into the bi+ community here where I live. I care deeply about how we create and constitute that community. This post is written especially for people within our nonmonosexual community, but it’s relevant for everyone.

I love ‘pan’ and ‘queer’. They’re fantastic words, and one of them is one of my absolute favourite words to describe myself. To put it in far more words: I am not arguing against the fact that there are a diversity of labels that people in the bi+ umbrella choose to use. We all have differing experiences, orientations, and ways of understanding these, and that is a damn good thing. But their use to the exclusion of bi comes from biphobia.

Let me phrase that again, with entirely different emphasis: Their use, to the exclusion of bi, comes from biphobia.

There are certain biphobic threads that I have noticed within pansexual/queer communities and discourse. Things you hear all the time. Things like:

“I’m not bi- I don’t see gender”

“I’m attracted to the person, not the body”

“Bisexuals are attracted to men and women, but I’m capable of loving all kinds of people”

It’s kind of painful to read/hear, to be honest. But, y’know something? I know what it feels like to say things like that. I used to say those things. All of them. They are, of course, all bullshit.

We all see gender- we’re bathed in gender, whether we like it or not, in every interaction we have with another person from the moment we’re born. It’s one thing to say that we don’t want to live in a world divided along coerced gendered lines. It’s another thing to blithely go about your life pretending that you already do. To do that only ignores the myriad of gendered ways in which all of us act towards ourselves and others. Saying that you don’t see gender just ’cause you can be attracted to people regardless of it isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card from doing the painful work of dismantling your own internalised misogynies and heteronormativities.

As for the second? People who are attracted to multiple genders are no more or less likely than monosexuals to have physical traits they find attractive. And the idea that physical attraction is somehow less valid than, or exclusive of, attraction to someone as a person is the height of sex-shaming. There is nothing shallow or meaningless about being physically attracted to people. And being physically attracted to someone doesn’t mean for a second that you can’t fancy the hell out of their brains as well.

As for the third one? We’ll get to that, but suffice it to say that bi+ communities haven’t been using the definition of bisexuality as meaning attraction to men and woman for a long time.

I said earlier that I’m not here to rag on people who use pan or queer. That’s not what this has been for- hell, I use one of them myself, and used the other for a long time as well. I’m talking about this because all of these statements come from a painful-as-hell place of internalised biphobia, and none of them will, in the long run, do a damn thing to make anyone’s situation better.

I love ‘pan’ and ‘queer’. They’re fantastic words, and one of them is one of my absolute favourite words to describe myself. To put it in far more words: I am not arguing against the fact that there are a diversity of labels that people in the bi+ umbrella choose to use. We all have differing experiences, orientations, and ways of understanding these, and that is a damn good thing. But their use to the exclusion of bi comes from biphobia.

Let me phrase that again, with entirely different emphasis: Their use, to the exclusion of bi, comes from biphobia.

There are certain biphobic threads that I have noticed within pansexual/queer communities and discourse. Things you hear all the time. Things like:

“I’m not bi- I don’t see gender”

“I’m attracted to the person, not the body”

“Bisexuals are attracted to men and women, but I’m capable of loving all kinds of people”

It’s kind of painful to read/hear, to be honest. But, y’know something? I know what it feels like to say things like that. I used to say those things. All of them. They are, of course, all bullshit.

We all see gender- we’re bathed in gender, whether we like it or not, in every interaction we have with another person from the moment we’re born. It’s one thing to say that we don’t want to live in a world divided along coerced gendered lines. It’s another thing to blithely go about your life pretending that you already do. To do that only ignores the myriad of gendered ways in which all of us act towards ourselves and others. Saying that you don’t see gender just ’cause you can be attracted to people regardless of it isn’t a get-out-of-jail-free card from doing the painful work of dismantling your own internalised misogynies and heteronormativities.

As for the second? People who are attracted to multiple genders are no more or less likely than monosexuals to have physical traits they find attractive. And the idea that physical attraction is somehow less valid than, or exclusive of, attraction to someone as a person is the height of sex-shaming. There is nothing shallow or meaningless about being physically attracted to people. And being physically attracted to someone doesn’t mean for a second that you can’t fancy the hell out of their brains as well.

As for the third one? We’ll get to that, but suffice it to say that bi+ communities haven’t been using the definition of bisexuality as meaning attraction to men and woman for a long time.

I said earlier that I’m not here to rag on people who use pan or queer. That’s not what this has been for- hell, I use one of them myself, and used the other for a long time as well. I’m talking about this because all of these statements come from a painful-as-hell place of internalised biphobia, and none of them will, in the long run, do a damn thing to make anyone’s situation better.

Read the rest – I promise, it’s worth your while- and let me know what you think, right?

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Boundaries, Thresholds and Love: why it’s time to take back ‘Bi’. Repost.
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Should bi people leave the LGBT community?

This video is one of the most thought-provoking, as well as difficult to watch, things I’ve seen in a while. It’s 7 minutes long, so you might want a cuppa before watching. Is the LGBT community biphobic to the extent that bi people should leave?

This is something where his premise is correct, and his conclusion.. incredibly saddening. Is this really all we can do? Is the LG(bt) community really so beyond help? Continue reading “Should bi people leave the LGBT community?”

Should bi people leave the LGBT community?

On Bi Visibility Day, what I want from gay people

Happy Bi Visibility Day!

Unsurprisingly, I’ve been thinking about bisexuality even more than usual today. I knew that I wanted to say something about it. About why it’s important. Why Bi Visibility Day is a big deal to me. It took me until now to really click on what I wanted to say. After all, I’ve already written my bi manifesto. And because there are some incredibly insightful commenters ‘round here, my addendum to my bi manifesto.

Here’s what I’ve got today:

Bi people get a lot of shtick from gay people. While some of this is straight-up biphobia, there’s another facet that’s far more complex: the idea that bisexuality is always a privileged category with respect to gayness.

It looks self-evident at first glance. Gay people experience homophobia and heterocentricism. These things are Bad. Bi people are sometimes in same-sex relationships (where they experience homophobia too) but sometimes in different-sex relationships. Different-sex relationships are considered the norm, so the people in them must be privileged, right? And this means that bi people get to spend half their time benefiting from privilege and have an all-round easier time of it.

It’s a pity that it’s straight-up wrong. You see, when people talk about bisexuals as being privileged in all ways with respect to lesbian and gay people, they miss one of the most important facets of human experience: the need to belong.

Coming out as anything isn’t easy. But in most cases, gay people have somewhere to come out into- the gay community. Everyone knows that most cities have gay spaces. And when gay people get into relationships, they can feel reasonably secure that the person they’re with isn’t overtly homophobic.

I’m not saying that this is always the case. But in general? There are spaces for gay people.

Bi people don’t have that. I said some things last year about this. Here:

Continue reading “On Bi Visibility Day, what I want from gay people”

On Bi Visibility Day, what I want from gay people

Guest post: What now? Why do we throw our less respectable queers under the bus?

As a follow-up to last week’s Guest Posts for Equality series (read them!), I asked people to share their thoughts on two topics: what does the referendum’s result mean to them, and what comes next. 

The author of this post has asked to remain anonymous, as they are currently only out to a small number of their close friends.  

equalityheart

Now that the referendum campaigning is done, and the yesses have it, I’d like to talk about something I felt I couldn’t much during the past few weeks. The run up to the vote has been wearying, painful and damaging to the queer community. The venomous homophobia spewing forth from the many heads of the Iona hydra has taken its toll on everyone. How deeply that pain is felt depends heavily on the network of support a person has around them, and I for one am grateful that my immediate family and circle of friends are, at least most of the time, not outwardly homophobic.

However.

While hateful lies published by right-wing scummers are easy to criticise, to mock, and, for some, to brush off, it will be harder for those of us on the Yes side to self-reflect and see the many ways in which our campaigns have been harmful to the very people they claim to represent. A good example of this is the incredibly misguided “Straight Up For Equality” campaign. The slogan serves no purpose, other than to state that you can vote in favour of same sex marriage, even if you’re Not A Gay. For straight people, literally the only people not directly affected by the outcome of this referendum, this campaign gives them an excuse to assert their own heteronormativity, to maintain an “us and them” straight versus gay dichotomy, while allowing themselves to feel like progressive liberal heroes. Straight people, listen up; this is not about you.

Another thing that the Straight Up For Equality slogan implies is that there are only two types of relationships, straight or gay, and that your sexuality depends on which relationships you happen to be in. What of queers who aren’t gay? Do two bi women in a relationship suddenly become lesbians? Are a straight woman and her pan husband in a straight marriage? What of individuals of nonbinary gender? I can imagine the answer from our self-professed straight allies would be something along the lines of, “…huh?”

This notion of straight and gay binary has been rampant throughout the referendum campaign. Using terms such as “gay marriage” when you mean “same sex marriage” erases the identity of the majority of people on the queer spectrum. I was surprised to see some of my bi friends championing former president Mary McAleese for the speech she gave to BeLonG To, in which she stated, “the only children affected by this referendum are Ireland’s gay children.” Using “gay” as a catch all phrase to mean the LGBTQIA community hurts those of us who are queer in anything other than the most mainstream, socially acceptable way.

A powerful symbol of the appeal to acceptability is the mural in Dublin of two men embracing, with the slightest suggestion of a kiss, which was followed almost as an afterthought by a mural in Galway of two women, decidedly not kissing. An important thing to note here is that all four individuals in these murals are white, able-bodied, and to be presumed cis. Where are the murals of our queers of colour, our queer Travellers, our queer trans folk, our queers with visible disabilities? No, poster gays (and lesbians if you insist) only please!

Why do we throw our less respectable queers under the bus? Are we afraid that mainstream society would vote against same sex marriage if it knew the reality of queer diversity? Is that is a society into which you would happily be assimilated?

I can only hope that the inevitable post referendum drop-off of “acceptable” queers (i.e.; gay and lesbian couples who wish to marry) will give rise to a more radicalised approach to queer politics in Ireland.

Fingers crossed.

Guest post: What now? Why do we throw our less respectable queers under the bus?

Guest Posts: What Now? Thoughts as we celebrate the 34th Amendment

As a follow-up to last week’s Guest Posts for Equality series (read them!), I asked people to share their thoughts on two topics: what does the referendum’s result mean to them, and what comes next. 

Jon Hanna was born in County Down, but has lived in the Republic for all of his adult life, and Dublin for all but a few months of that. He once swore off activism on the basis that he doesn’t think he’s very good at it, but does still occasionally write things like this.

equalityheart

The strong sisters told the brothers that there were two important things to remember about the coming revolutions. The first is that we will get our asses kicked. The second is that we will win.

25 years ago, those words were part of the Queer Nation Manifesto handed out by the Act Up contingent at the Pride parade in New York.

At a time closer to the Stonewall Riots the parades commemorate than to today,
at a time when here in Ireland the 1861 Offences Against the Person Act, and the 1885 Criminal Law (Amendment) Act made sexual acts between two consenting men illegal,
at a time when one of the ways you could identify someone on television as gay was visible Kaposi’s sarcoma,
at a time when people ganging up with the clear and premeditated intent to kill a gay man, because he was a gay man, and doing so, could expect to be given a suspended sentence,
at a time not long after that had happened,
I began to realise I liked boys as well as girls.

The right to same-sex marriage isn’t a right I hope to exercise, because I still liked girls as well as boys, and the person I since met, that I want to spend the rest of my life with, is a woman. And we got to celebrate our love and our wish to be together recently, in a beautiful wedding.

But you are who you are. And I am who I am. And when as a schoolboy I came out a little over 20 years ago, I was lucky to have that received well by good people. And I’ve mostly been lucky to have other such good people around me throughout my life, whether I was married, single, dating a woman, or dating a man. That my life never ended up such that I ever wanted to marry a man, is far from the point, and that is the same for many others who are LGBT (and let us not for a minute forget the T, or anyone else that doesn’t fit the cis, hetero pattern that we’ve for so long been told is “normal”).

Not everybody has been lucky in that way. And nobody should have to be lucky that way. People need protected rights, protected not just by a few good people they are lucky to have around them, but by the people; that “we the people” don’t hand out moments of decency, but insist that all of us the people are treated with respect.

And those who are gay need to have their gay lives, and their gay loves or lack of them as those gay lives unfold, treated with respect.

And those who are trans* and those who are ace need to not have their lives forced into the mould of another’s.

And those of us who are bi need to have our lives treated with respect, with the loves that may come to us as our lives unfold neither allowed because they are straight enough to fit the norm, or allowed because they are gay enough to distance us firmly from the norm, but accepted because they are our loves and they are our lives, and we are all of cherished as citizens by all of us.

And we the people should have been able to legislate for same-sex marriage through our representatives. But when some in the Dáil insisted it wasn’t constitutionally possible without a referendum, that was what we the people had. And, on the day that would have been Harvey Milk’s 85th birthday, a million Irish people said that they think all of our loves and all of our lives should be given the same respect. And that brought with it something that no constitution can give the Dáil the power to deliver, something that goes further than the right to marry the person you love, or even the equality it still brings to those with no intention of such a marriage; it brought a genuine sense that we belong in this country, that we the queer people are indeed seen as part of we the people.

And in a moment of fear that we would lose, and that the loss would push us back grievously, I thought of the few rare optimistic words in the Queer Manifesto; “The second is that we will win.”

The strong sisters could tell the brothers that, because the sisters had been in other fights before, and they knew that we would win, just as they knew that we would get our asses kicked.

They were right on both counts.

And if it’s tempting now to think that we are near the beginning of the end, we need only look at the sisters’ fights to know that this isn’t the case (Repeal the 8th!). There will still be fights, and we will get our asses kicked, and we will win. As will the sisters. It’s not the end, but an Ireland where a million people vote to allow marriage to be lawful “without distinction as to their sex” — an Ireland where people will not only travel to their polling station to do so, but thousands will fly or sail into the country to do so — can be one where we might be near the end of the beginning.

Guest Posts: What Now? Thoughts as we celebrate the 34th Amendment

Unsolicited Advice: It Came From The Search Terms

In a small, secret part of my mind I’ve always wanted to be an advice columnist. I mean, don’t we all? In the absence of any actual people asking me actual advice, I’m going to take the next best thing. That’s right! It’s time to respond to the search terms.

 

1. How to not be a douchecanoe

I find that it helps to take a mental step aside from my own perspective to try to see a situation from someone else’s point of view. Don’t assume everything’s about you. Be considerate and kind and understand that people don’t owe you more than consideration and kindness in return. Be clear about your own boundaries and gracious about the boundaries of others.

If you’re having a specifically pronoun-related attack of asshattery, try my detailed advice. For simply being more excellent all-round, spend a few days reading through Captain Awkward. Pay close attention to the comments.

2. blackface.com

Please refer to question one. Repeat frequently until you understand the reasons why it is truly terrible. Then promise to do better next time.

3. ah women unicorn bisexual

credit: http://www.etsy.com/ie/shop/astroglitter

You wouldn’t want to hurt the unicorn, would you? Would you?

But seriously: if by ‘unicorn’ you mean ‘a hot bi babe who will sex up me and my girlfriend/boyfriend’, then I’d recommend starting with a couple of understandings:

  1. The amount of ‘unicorns’ in the world is far outweighed by the amount of m/f couples who are looking for them. You gotta impress, y’know?
  2. Despite the name, they are people. Not mythical creatures. People with feelings and desires and boundaries all of their own, which are going to be every bit as important as yours are.
  3. The world doesn’t owe you a unicorn.

With these 3 facts, you’re now better informed than 99% of people out there looking for unicorns! Go forth and be lovely and have fun!

was jesus a vampire

Yes. Duh.

did vampire drink jesus blood

Probably.

was marie fleming afraid of death

Oh, I hope not. As far as I know, though, she was far more afraid of a long and painful end then death itself. According to her partner, her dearest wish was to die peacefully in her own home. She got that wish, at least, and I hope that she was loved and not afraid. What more can any of us hope for?

feminists shame men by calling them homosexual

Who are these ‘feminists’? Because they’re asshats of the highest degree and homophobes to boot, and I would like to have a word with them. Several words.

i am a lesbian dating a man

I hope you are very happy! A present for you: check out Erika Moen’s DAR. I just read it this week on the recommendation of my housemate. It’s a lovely comic about a woman who is, among other things, someone who identified as a lesbian until she met her husband. It’s super cute and full of <3

what sauce is chicken wings cooked in in ireland

Potato. Just potato.

need people to talk to about being closet

Oh, honey. The closet is a scary place to be, isn’t it? I don’t know where you are or what you’re in the closet as, so I can’t offer specific advice- although do try googling your location and LGBT, if you feel brave enough. There might be an LGBTQ switchboard or community centre who you can talk to in person?

If not.. well, there’s the internet, and there are plenty of supports and advice online.

If I could only give you one piece of advice? It would be to care for yourself. Being in the closet is scary. So is coming out and being out. Both of these are things you can do from a place of harming yourself or a place of caring for yourself. Ask yourself- is being in the closet stifling who I am as a human? Is it keeping me from flourishing and feeling connected to others? But also ask yourself- Would coming out be safe for me? How can I protect myself through that process?

If you do decide to come out, think carefully about who to talk to first. That first coming out? It’s going to be the most vulnerable moment of all. If things go well, then for every moment after that you’ll have at least one person who’s on your side and who’s got your back. Do you know someone who you think is supportive of LGBTQ people? Better still, is there anyone you know who is already out? Are any of these people who you think could be trusted, both to keep your confidence as long as you need it, and to be kind to you through the process?

It’s okay if you find people online first. It’s okay to take your time. It’s okay to come out to only some people, to one or two, or to everyone. Remember: care for yourself.

do you put cumin on vegetables

I sure do! One of my favourite comfort foods is potato wedges made by chopping up some spuds (skin ‘n’ all, natch) and then roasting them with loads of cumin, garlic, salt, pepper, and paprika. Then I nom them up with BBQ sauce mixed with mayo. Yum!

lesbians in my soup

Oh dear. Are they burnt? You probably want to take them out and cool them down. Maybe a nice cold shower? Unless they’re in gazpacho, in which case a nice hot bath would be in order.

Also, how did they get there?

Credit: thewrongbathroom.wordpress.com

why dont gay men date lesbians

Why don’t gay men date lesbians. Why don’t gay men date lesbians? Why don’t gay men date lesbians?

 

p.s. Yes some gay men are dating lesbians I am sure because sexuality isn’t always black and white and people find love in all sorts of unexpected places and I hope that they are all very happy indeed.

But still.

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Unsolicited Advice: It Came From The Search Terms

Why Don’t The Bi People Just Come Out Already? An Open Letter To Dan Savage.

Dear Dan Savage,

It pains me to say this. I like you. I don’t think you’re perfect, or have any obligation to be. I don’t think you have a responsibility to be an official representative of everyone with a smidge of queerness in the world. I don’t agree with everything you say- not a bit!- but overall you seem like a decent enough sort. That, and you’re clever, funny, and I think that, overall, you do a lot of good. Also, your podcast keeps me entertained long enough to get a bunch of housework done every week. Me and my laundry say thanks for that, by the way.

It pains me to say it, of course, because as someone with a tendency to run his mouth on things (something I can well identify with), when you get things wrong it can be.. shall we say spectacular? But I appreciate that you don’t silence dissent, that you acknowledge that you piss people off, and that most weeks you even run some of those pissed-off voices on your show. Good job with that, by the way.

Dan, if you’re reading this? I’ve got a bone to pick with you today. This is where I’ll become one of those hordes of angry bisexuals that you keep hearing from. I’d appreciate if you hear me out, though, before dismissing me as just another carrier of the Angry Bisexualist Gene. I mean, after all the time I’ve spent hearing you out, it’s the least you can do. Also? Dude, you know how many SuperQueer™ Points I’ve just lost by admitting that I have your podcast queued up on my iTunes. And that I still use iTunes (I’m lazy, okay?). I’ll never hear the end of this one.

The other week, you were talking about bisexuality. As you do. By the way? Thanks for changing your mind on the whole business of the existence of male bisexuality. And thanks for having bi people of all sorts of genders on the show- both to talk about bi things and to discuss entirely different topics. Huzzah for being fully-rounded people who aren’t just showing up as tokens to talk about one small aspect of ourselves!

But while we do exist now, however, it seems that we- The Bisexuals- are still letting the side down. One of the arguments that you’ve been making lately is based on quoting stats that indicate that bi people are significantly less likely than lesbian or gay people to be fully out. I’m not sure what the exact numbers are (or where you got them), but I gather that it’s something along the lines of 4/5 of L and G people being out, as opposed to only 1/5 of the Bs.

According to you, this means that bi people have an increased responsibility, as a group and as individuals, to come out already. Lesbian and gay people are out, so why not us? If LG people can, as you would say, pussy up and deal with the consequences of coming out, then bi people need to get off our collective asses and do the same thing. I’ve heard you (briefly) acknowledge that bi people can be on the receiving end of hassle from LG as well as straight people. But the solution is the same- bi people need to come out, so that our voices can be heard and we can be represented.

Here’s where things get complicated. I don’t deny that coming out is one of the most powerful tools we have. I’ve been openly bi for almost half my life (a terrifying thought). I can’t imagine what my life would be like if I wasn’t out- I’d be missing many of the people I call family, I wouldn’t have had the chance to learn half as much as I have, and I wouldn’t have been able to do my bit for The Cause. That, and I’m quite frankly useless at lying, so I doubt I’d have managed to be closeted very long.

I also think that, when it comes to being out, bi people are in a unique position to challenge the idea that there’s anything even faintly superior about heterosexuality. If I fall in love with a woman, it’s not because of any lack of socially-more-acceptable options. It’s not that I can’t help it. It’s that love (and sex, and relationships, and all of it) is awesome, regardless of the gender(s) of the people involved. None of this “we can’t help it” crap. I could help it if I wanted to, and I wouldn’t change what I am for the world. I bet we can agree that that’s pretty damn powerful.

So yes. On one level, we do need more bi people to come out already. We need more queer people of all kinds to come out already.

Where you and I disagree is on how to make that happen.

Here’s the thing. When you say that bi people need to come out already, it feels like that statement comes with an underlying assumption that we’re some kind of monolith. Like we’re a united group of people who have made the decision to hide 4/5 of our orientations from the wider world.

Dan, you know better than that. You’ve said yourself that one of the things you appreciate so much about the LGBTQ community these days is how much we disagree with each other. We’re a big, diverse group of people from every background in the world with feck-all in common aside from a shared exclusion, and the more successful we are in fighting that the less we’ll feel like we need to put forward a united front.

Y’know what’s telling, though? That in one group within our umbrella, being out is no longer the preserve of hardheaded loudmouths like you and me with more stubbornness than sense. But in another? It seems like the vast majority of people simply aren’t taking that step.

You could say that that’s because us Bs prefer to retreat into comfortable assumed heterosexuality. I think that that’s a lazy answer, though. It’s based on a few stereotypes about bi people that, in all honesty, bug the hell out of me- the idea that bi people somehow choose who we love, and the idea that we’re duplicitous, dishonest people.

Dan, you’ve fallen in love. You even went and married someone you were in love with. And you listen to phone calls and read letters every day (or however often you do that- I ain’t policing your schedule) from people who do profoundly stupid-ass things for love. Or lust. Or infatuation. Do you really think that 4/5 of bi people are simply immune to the universal human tendency to be blithering idiots when we’re head over heels? Come on. Bi people are the same as anyone else. We fall in love, lust and infatuation with people, and we have precisely the same ability (or likelihood) as anyone else to deny or suppress that.

Instead of making this all about bi people, let’s see if there isn’t somewhere else we can go to see why bi people are a hell of a lot less likely than their lesbian and gay counterparts to be out.

There are more L&G people out these days than even a short few years ago. Is that because the gay and lesbian Borg decided collectively to come out? Or is it because many thousands of people worked their butts off to make spaces for them to come out to? We’ve been reaching out for years, building communities, creating visibility, letting people know that they’re not alone and that there are people who will love and appreciate them for who they are, and give them the support they need if they do end up turfed out of their homes, families and communities. Things aren’t perfect yet, but for many they’re a lot better than they were. Not because queer people are intrinsically stronger, as individuals, than we used to be. Because some of us were able to help make things just a little better for some of the rest of us, and we kept chipping away, bit by bit.

Come Out To Where?

Dan, when you talk to queer kids from crappy homophobic communities, there’s a thing that you always tell them to do: work your ass off to get out of there. Get thee to a college or a big city where you can find a community of people who’ll love and support you as you are. Make your own damn family. Because you know as well as I do that coming out isn’t something that can happen on its own. We need somewhere- some community, some people who love us- to come out into, especially if we are to stay out.

There’s a piece of research just out that’s important here, on attitudes to bisexuality among people of different orientations. Here’s some key quotes- emphasis is mine.:

[R]espondents were generally negative in terms of their attitudes toward bisexual men and women, with almost 15 percent of the sample in disagreement that bisexuality is a legitimate sexual orientation… Of note, respondents who identified as gay or lesbian responded significantly less positively toward bisexuality than those identifying as bisexual, indicating that even within the sexual minority community, bisexuals face profound stigma. In addition, these findings indicate that male bisexuals likely suffer more stigma than female bisexuals.

Dr. Friedman explains that when a bisexual person perceives that his or her sexual orientation is not recognized by peers, it can cause the person to feel socially isolated and unable to talk openly with friends, family and school mates.

“Having hard data to back up why a bisexual person might feel the need to be secretive about sexual orientation, something that can lead to higher depression and many other negative health outcomes, is very useful to people trying to fight stigma and marginalization,” said Dr. Friedman.

And that’s not all. This factsheet from Rainbow Health Ontario has links to oodles of studies from the US and Canada showing that, while L&G people have worse mental health and are more likely to be victims of abuse then their straight counterparts, bi people fare even worse than L&G folks. And when it comes to what our communities could do about that? I’ll let them tell you- again, emphases are mine:

Research on LGBT populations has found that a sense of community belonging can
buffer the effects of minority stress… Due to biphobia and monosexism, bisexuals
may lack access to community support. Research in both Canada and the US has
found that bisexuals feel marginalized by heterosexual, lesbian, and gay
communities. Bisexual-specific support, which has been found to reduce the effects
of biphobia, is particularly lacking.

Owch.

And there, you see, is the problem. It’s one thing to tell people that they should, if it’s at all feasible, come out. It’s another thing entirely to do that when research shows clearly that the very communities that give lesbian and gay people a place to come out to and the support they need? Not only don’t do that for bi people- but can actively marginalise them. Speaking as someone who has been openly bi for half my life, and who has been facilitating bi safer spaces for several years now? The story I hear time and again- one of the many stories that breaks my heart every time I hear it, over and over again- is from people who, despite being part of queer communities, never had a space where they felt safe being themselves.

You could say that bi people should “just” go make our own communities. I’m sure you see as well why a minority within a minority reinventing the wheel feels a little.. Well, it feels a little People’s Front of Judea to me, if you know what I mean. There’s already a B in LGBT (and a T as well, but that’s a whole other conversation for a whole other day). And you know as well as I do that the lines between LG and B are not always clear-cut, often blurry, and occasionally subject to change without notice. Given that we live in a world that’s often hostile to all of us queers, the least that we can do is be a little kind to each other.

So yes, encourage bi people to come out. Let’s all do that! And in the meantime, let’s make sure that when bi people do come out, that our communities- which were built by bi (and trans) people as much as by lesbians and gay men- provide more than a literally half-hearted welcome to them.

And while we’re at it? When bi people come out, we need to believe them.

I know you are, but what are you really?

I know what you’re going to say. I’ve heard it many times before. You’re going to say that of course you accept that bi people exist. But that if someone comes out as bi at a younger age, there’s no way to know that they won’t be one of the many people who use the identity as a transitional one, and will come out as gay eventually.

On one level, you’re right. There’s no way to know that.

There’s also no way to know that the teenager coming out as gay won’t amend that to bi a few months or years down the line. Maybe that seems less common from a gay perspective, but as someone who spends a lot of time talking to bi people about their stories? It’s very common. And people do it for exactly the same reasons that people that they transition through a bi identity to gay- because they’re still working things out for themselves. Or because they feel like it’s a safer space to be. Or because for a while it seemed like the truth.

For me- because for a little while, I was one of those people- it felt like all of those reasons and more. I was a scared, confused kid (who isn’t?) who dearly wanted to feel secure about something (who doesn’t?). I came out as bi, then started calling myself gay. After a while, I realised that wasn’t right, returned to bi, and have been there (with a side order of queer) ever since. I could talk about my reasons and how it felt all day, but for the moment let’s just stick with this: I, and many bi people I know, stopped over in gayville on our ways to our identities. And before you ask, I’m talking about people of all sorts of genders here, not just women.

Like I said, though, that’s a topic that could go on all day, so let’s go back to the big topic: getting the bi people out already.

One of the profoundly annoying things about being out as a bi person, you see, is the way you keep on having to defend yourself. And not just in the ordinary way that all of us queer folks have to defend ourselves from the homophobes of the world who figure we’re all a bunch of filthy sinners (blah blah blah ad nauseum). As a bi person, you don’t just have to defend being queer and also a decent human being. You have to deal with the fact that, unless you give sufficient proof, nobody will believe you

Me, I have it easy. I can provide references for ex-partners of all sorts of genders who would be only too happy to verify that I did, in fact, fancy the pants off them. I also give talks, run workshops and write articles about bisexuality. Google my name, and it’s right there in the first couple of results. I still find it harder to be openly bi than openly queer. People stillwith the absolute best of intentions, assume I’m gay all the time. If I sometimes have a hard time being out, how much trickier must it be for people who don’t get to say things like “Sorry I can’t make it to [event], I’m just giving a talk on bi awareness this evening”?

This isn’t because anyone has something against bi people or is trying deliberately to erase us. It’s just that, in people’s minds, queer=gay and evidence to the contrary simply slides by. Remember last week, when Tom Daley and Maria Bello both came out as being in same-sex relationships? Remember how both of them mentioned things about different-sex attraction (crushes, partners), and both of them ended up reported as coming out as ‘gay’? If an article in the New York Times, or a YouTube video by an Olympic athlete, talking about fancying people of different genders isn’t enough for people to assume non-monsexuality, then what on Earth is?

Again, you don’t just have to believe me. A couple of Canadian researchers, Milaine Alarie & Stéphanie Gaudet, published a brilliant article this year. It’s called “I Don’t Know If She Is Bisexual or If She Just Wants to Get Attention”: Analyzing the Various Mechanisms Through Which Emerging Adults Invisibilize Bisexuality“. It’s worth reading the lot, but in short, there are four mechanisms they highlight: “(1) ignoring bisexuality, (2) depicting bisexuality as temporary, (3) making it almost impossible to be a ‘real’ bisexual, and (4) devaluing bisexuality”.

Dan, it’s not just that people aren’t taken seriously when they come out- which is, in itself, a major disincentive to going through the whole damn thing again and again. It’s that there are multiple ways in which coming out and being out is made more difficult for bi people than our lesbian and gay counterparts, how both the orientation itself and our right to it are questioned, and how even clear statements indicating attraction to multiple genders are sometimes ignored entirely.

Listen, you and me both agree that the world is a better place when people of all orientations (even straight people!) are able to be out and open about who they are and who they love and fancy. You’ve worked your ass off for decades making it easier for lesbian and gay people to take that step. All I’m really asking is that you understand that, just like for lesbian and gay folks, the reasons that bi people are able to come out are as much to do with everyone else- be they straight, gay, asexual, or even other bisexuals- as the person making that decision. All I’m asking is that, as well as encouraging bi people to come out already, you encourage gay people to lay off the biphobia in queer spaces, and everyone to quit questioning our right to exist.

It’s the least you can do.

Why Don’t The Bi People Just Come Out Already? An Open Letter To Dan Savage.

The Overwhelming Heteronormativity Of ‘Born This Way’

You’ve heard the phrase ‘born this way’. We all have. Even before Gaga turned it into an earworm that has been rattling around my brain for every single sentence of this post, it’s been a way that people explain queerness. And, for many of us, it’s something that makes sense in our own lives. We point to telltale signs in our childhoods that there was always something different about us. When people call us perverts and abominations, we respond by assuring them that no, this is who we are, and that this is how we were born.

I despise it. And I’d like to explain why. This is going to take a little work, though- we’ll be talking about heteronormativity, gender, and even the dreaded patriarchy along the way. So make yourself a nice big mug of something, because we’re going to start right at the heart of it all- wondering why on earth homophobes are.

Why on earth would anyone hate queer people?

It seems counterintuitive, doesn’t it? Here we all are, doing our thing in a world that has plenty real threats against us, and people pick who someone loves or what gender they are as reasons to despise them. On face value, it doesn’t make any sense. Queer people mainly go about our days like everyone else does, by-and-large minding our own business. Our existence doesn’t harm anyone. We don’t prevent anyone else from living their lives as they choose. Generally, we just want the same right to choose our own destinies and to have our families and identities respected the same way everyone else’s is.

On face value, it seems bizarre that that would be a big deal.

Why do people hate us so much, then? It’s easy to say “religion” or “ignorance”, but those answers don’t really tell us anything. While it’s true that some religions have taboos against entirely harmless things, it’s unusual to find something harmless that the majority will forbid. When you do, though? It’s often a sign that there is a threat lurking just below the surface. Something that is dangerous in ways that are not always obvious.

Reproductive rights aren’t dangerous unless you have a vested interest in controlling women. Diversity in gender and sexualities isn’t dangerous, either- unless, that is, you have a vested interest in maintaining a distinctly binary and patriarchal gender system. Which, if you’re given power by that system? You do.

We live in profoundly patriarchal (and kyriarchal) societies. It’s not just that men hold most positions of power and the vast majority of wealth in the world. It’s that the positions men tend to hold and the ways that men tend to do things are more valued themselves. And it is, of course, that we divide what people should do and how they should do it on binary gendered lines. Not necessarily on purpose, by the way. Patriarchy isn’t a shady cabal of men meeting in secret in darkened rooms to plot against equality. It doesn’t have to have leaders. It doesn’t even have to be something that people are obviously or consciously aware of. It’s just people doing what they do, groups working to their own advantage, and power entrenching itself in obvious and subtle ways over the decades.

Yes, by the way, I am going to get back to queer people. Trust me- it’s all connected, but for the moment we’ll have to talk a little more about gender.

Because the only way that this kind of large-scale social control and organisation can continue, of course, is if people buy into it. We need to feel like it’s a good thing. We need it to feel natural, like there’s an essential good to men doing one kind of work (largely paid and visible) and women doing other kinds of work, which are more likely to be unpaid and invisible. It has to satisfy us. We need to feel like we live in a world where this is not just inevitable, but preferable. Like it’s the only truly natural way to be. And if you’re a human, which I am almost certain that you are, then one of the ways you make sense of the world is through narrative. It’s through narrative that we create and pass on our ideas about what is good, what is bad, and what our happy ever after looks like.

When it comes to gender? We have narratives in spades. Think of family homes- warm, welcoming spaces filled with nurturing mothers, grannies and aunties. Think of good, decent men who work all day to provide for the families they love, before coming home to spend time with the kids they dote on. Think of the love they all have for each other and the ways they take care of each other.

I know you can, because we all can. We’ve all lived our lives in a world saturated with these stories. And stories.. stories get under your skin. Stories are how we make sense of the world.

Queerness as threat

These stories aren’t just about the family. They are situated in the family, but they’re about far bigger things. They’re about how we define ourselves as men and women, boys and girls. They’re tied both to aspects of our core identity, and to some of the largest-scale social divisions we have. Three and a half billion people on one side, three and a half billion on the other. And the thing that divides one 3.5 billion from the other? Is the same story that we tell them will keep them safe, loved and happy in their closest and most intimate relationships. It’s the story that we are all men or women, and that men and women are deeply, essentially distinct groups of people. It’s the story that, for all our differences, there is one thing that is an essential maleness, and another that is an essential femaleness, and that the complementarity between these differences is what brings us together.

In a world where the family- that space where we create our homes, our refuge from the world, where we love and nurture each other- is based on the idea that men and women are essentially different beings, queerness is scary. If two men, two women, or an entirely different configuration of people can come together and create a family? If little girls can grow up to be men, little boys to be women, and anyone to be neither men nor women? We are left without an anchor for some of our most treasured truths. We are left afraid in a world that makes even less sense than we thought it might.

People aren’t scared of queerness because there’s anything immediately wrong with one woman loving another, or with some people’s bodies being configured differently to others. They’re scared of queerness- and they lash out at us- because we challenge one of the biggest narratives our society has, one that stretches from large-scale division to the intimacy we share with people we love to our very sense of ourselves.

And for many of us? We are left without one of the few things that gives us some semblance (or a great deal) of power and authority.

By now, there’s likely no going back. Many of us queer people are no longer willing to hide. We have families and friends who love and support us. Our existence can’t be denied. The evidence that we are as capable as anyone of having meaningful lives and creating nurturing families continues to grow. To talk directly about how we challenge gendered narratives is to admit that those are stories that might themselves be challenged.

And so- without deliberate effort, but because it makes sense to us and helps us to feel safe- an overwhelming narrative arises. Instead of facing our stories head-on and challenging the truths they claim, we adapt them. Just a little bit, on the edges. We fit queerness into the cracks of our stories, moulding it to keep us feeling safe.

We say that we were born this way.

Born This Way as neutraliser

Before I go on, I want to make a point very clear. I am not stating for a second that everyone’s orientation or identity is chosen, malleable or fluid. From many LGBT people’s childhood stories to the overwhelming failure of ex-gay ‘therapy’ to do anything other than hurt the people it claims to help, it’s clear that sexuality is, for many people, something that revolves closely around a fixed point.

For others, though, it’s not. Sexual and gender expressions are gloriously diverse. Even if we’re born with particular inclinations, the choices that we make after those define us as much as that which we are born with. Additionally? Something that could be fixed for one person may be chosen for another.

I hope you’ll forgive me for mentioning myself for a moment- I live in my own mind, so I can’t speak for anyone else. I grew up with the potential to be attracted to people of a variety of genders. I chose to come out, to pursue non-hetero relationships with the people I felt drawn to. I learned about different ways of doing relationships. Currently, I choose to pursue nonmonogamous relationships, if I pursue romantic relationships at all, because they fit well with the values I’ve developed, the way I prefer to build family and community- and, if I’m honest, because I happened to meet some wonderful poly people along the way.

I’m willing to bet that, whatever your own orientation and preferred relationship configuration(s), you have similar stories. You were born or grew up with a certain innate potential. Then you met some people, learned some things, discovered different ways of doing relationships, and made some choices about what kind of things suit you. Some of these things are dealbreakers. Some are open to negotiation. And there is, over the decades of your life, change between which category a particular thing fits into.

In short? We have potential. We make choices. We change. We grow. Many of us have the potential to be different to what we are- and maybe someday we will. Or we won’t. Life is complicated, and it sends us in unexpected directions sometimes.

The idea of ‘born this way’ ignores all of that. ‘Born this way’ introduces the idea that we have no choice in who we are, who we love, and what we do.

On one hand, it encourages a horrible narrative in supporting equality- the idea that we simply can’t help who we are. Who, it asks, would ever choose such a terrible fate as to be queer? If we could be cishet we would, right? ‘Born this way’ doesn’t challenge heteronormative ideals of the superiority of particular relationship forms. It doesn’t celebrate anything about queerness- not the relationships we have, the cultures and families we create, and the things we have to teach cishet society. Instead, it asks for ‘normal’ people’s pity. Don’t be mean to us. We can’t help it. We were born this way.

That’s not the only way, though, in which the ‘born this way’ narrative- and it is a narrative, which emphasises certain aspects of queer experience while ignoring and erasing others- bolsters heteronormativity. You see, ‘born this way’ also reinforces the separation between straightness and queerness. If we are ‘born this way’, than, by extension, straight people are not. If we are born this way, then we are, and are destined to always remain, different from the norm. An exception, distinctly separate from the rule, made so by an accident of birth. If we are born this way, we pose no threat or challenge to gender norms or heteronormativity- we’re nothing more than abberations. A minority who will always stay that way, and always be slightly apart.

The Overwhelming Heteronormativity Of ‘Born This Way’

Bisexuality: Thinking in Opposites

Nicola Moffat is a fourth year PhD candidate in the School of English, University College Cork. If she’s not glued to a screen, you’ll find Nicola stuck in a book or swearing over a pile of unmarked essays. Some of her favourite things are monsters; art; ranty conversations; her nasty cat, George; and going for walks with her other half and her spotty dog, Pepper. She blogs at Monsterivity

I’ve been thinking about sex this week.  A lot.  And that’s not just because it’s Valentine’s day and I’m supposed to be thinking carnally.  I’ve been thinking about the different ways we express ourselves sexually and how we impose limits on those expressions, depending on our views.  This week has also been a learning curve for me where I’ve had to face my own prejudices.

I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve heard people say that Bi doesn’t exist, that you have to be either hetero- or homosexual.  It’s been said, by the way, by people of varying sexualities, not just heteros.  This “either or” rhetoric smacks of something very familiar -you can either be a man or a woman, you can either work or have kids, you can be either emotional or rational . . . how many times have we found ourselves standing just here?

I think in some ways this is why I like being Bi: straddling (if you’ll excuse the pun) this perceived boundary between hetero- and homosexual means that, in some sense, bisexuals break that boundary down and expose the fiction of opposing sexualities.

The rhetoric of “either or” defines by creating oppositions and can therefore be considered a form of patriarchal discourse; in much the same way that patriarchy has defined opposites in men and women, white and black, reason and emotion (ad infinitum), the creation of a hetero/homo binary repeats this opposition, bringing with it the inequalities associated with these binaries.

Casting identities and practices into dichotomized pairs leaves no room for the fluidity of sexuality or creative identity practices, not to mention refusing the possibility of trans* identities and polyamorous relationships.

Can we give up returning to this place?  Can we move on now?

Bisexuality: Thinking in Opposites

Don’t Call Me Bisexual: another oldie

This was originally posted back in 2010. I came across it as I was looking for my old civil partnerships video, and figured I’d give it an airing. Enjoy!

 

Don’t call me bisexual.

Seriously, don’t. Call me bi, call me queer, you can even call me by my name if you really want to. But I don’t like being called bisexual.

I’m happy to be open about my orientation. As long as I’m in a relatively safe situation- nobody going to actually harm me- my preference is to be out. It prevents some misunderstandings and misconceptions, it’s an important part of my self and my history, and it’s good for people to know that they know someone who’s queer. Being out is also a very handy asshole filtration system, sparing hours to months of wasted time spent with people to turn out to be small minded bigots. Not to mention the fact that, if I happen to be interested in meeting someone or getting to know them a little better, having the orientation thing worked out as early as possible makes things run a lot smoother than they otherwise would. I recommend it to practically everyone, really I do.

Sexuality ≠ sex

One of the profoundly irritating things about being open about one’s orientation, as I’m sure some of you know all too well, is the assumption that coming out involves a revelation about one’s sex life. That if I come out I’ve shared something personal, even intimate, and that coming out opens a window to all sorts of juicy conversations and details.

It really doesn’t. Think about it this way: if you and I are strangers, and then we meet, it is likely that you’ll* assume that I’m straight. We live in a heteronormative society. Most people assume that most other people are straight. So we’ve met, and you have, consciously or unconsciously, assumed that I am only interested in sexual or romantic relationships with men.

If I tell you that I’m bi, you know less about what (who?) I do than you did before. You’ve lost the only point of information you thought you had. I tell you that I’m bi, then you know absolutely nothing about my sex life*. And that is just fine by me.

You see, I don’t want to talk about my sex life in public. I really don’t. Maybe someday I’ll change my mind about this one, but right now it would feel highly unpleasant, a violation of something very personal and important, which I want to keep between me and Relevant Others**. I like to keep my private life private.

Being ‘out’ doesn’t tell you about my personal life. It doesn’t tell you about who I am or am not involved with, it doesn’t tell you anything about my likes or dislikes. It doesn’t tell you anything about kinks and turn-ons. It doesn’t tell you anything about the kinds of relationships I like to be in. It doesn’t even tell you anything particularly meaningful about the type of people I’m attracted to. All it says anything about is that if you do find out about any of that stuff in the future, or even if I happen to mention someone I’m involved with, you can’t be guaranteed a ‘he’.

Language and homophobes

Have you ever noticed that whenever homophobes are talking about LGBT people, that can’t stop referring to us as ‘homosexuals’? You’d rarely hear an ‘LGBT people’, or even a ‘gay and lesbian’***. You might hear a ‘queer’, but you can bet it has nothing to do with queer theory. You might also have noticed that homophobic types tend to be rather preoccupied with queer people’s (feverishly) imagined sex lives. It’s always all ‘sodomy’ this and ‘lifestyle’ that.

This isn’t necessarily a coincidence. I read an article from the New York Times last week which touched on this topic. This article references a February CBS/New York Times news poll, where

half of the respondents were asked if they favored letting “gay men and lesbians” serve in the military (which is still more than 85 percent male), and the other half were asked if they favored letting “homosexuals” serve. Those who got the “homosexual” question favored it at a rate that was 11 percentage points lower than those who got the “gay men and lesbians” question.

Part of the difference may be that “homosexual” is a bigger, more clinical word freighted with a lot of historical baggage. But just as likely is that the inclusion of the root word “sex” still raises an aversive response to the idea of, how shall I say, the architectural issues between two men. It is the point at which support for basic human rights cleaves from endorsement of behavior.

This makes sense, if you think about it. Just like I don’t want everybody knowing details about my sex life, I don’t want to know the details of theirs. I’m quite profoundly lacking in attraction to the vast majority of people. While on a theoretical level I hope that everyone’s having a marvellous time with people who are having a marvellous time back at them, I really don’t want to know the details. If we don’t want to know about the sex lives of strangers- particularly strangers whose sex lives are personally unappealing to ourselves- then we are less likely to feel positively towards them if every time we refer to them, the word we use to do so is, quite literally, full of sex. I’d like to get away from that.

Would you like a stereotype?

All of this is, for me, closely related to prevailing stereotypes about those of us who are attracted to people of more than one gender. There’s the ones where you’re confused and can’t make up your mind, the ones where you’re flighty and immature. There’s the ones where you’ll sleep with anything that moves. The ones where you’re untrustworthy and bound to cheat on your partner with someone of another gender. Where you can’t be trusted.

A lot of this is about our sex lives- or, to be more specific, about the preconceptions that people have about our sex lives. It’s assumed (by some!) that any bi person in a relationship with another person will be tortured with desires and fantasies about people of another sex until we just can’t help ourselves. That, despite this, we don’t know our desires and that we’ll eventually settle down into one ‘side’ or the other. Even that our orientation as a whole can be determined from a quick glance at our most recent, or current, partner(s).

I know that no single word can completely eradicate biphobia and stereotyping. I also know that it is not my responsibility to single-handedly change the minds of every biphobe and homophobe out there- that’s up to them. And I know that I could be seen to be coming perilously close to blaming members of an oppressed group for the actions of oppressors. This is not what I mean to do. I do not blame anyone for choosing to identify themselves as ‘bisexual’. It’s a legitimate word, and identifying that way in no way absolves anyone from acting in a discriminatory way.

However, I do retain the right to want to make my life just that little bit more smoothly.

Back to me. Because that’s what it’s all about, isn’t it?

So say ‘bi’, if you like. It’s not ideal- it implies that I have two sexualities, for one thing, which is a bit bizarre. But it gets the point across, it’s a word everyone knows the meaning of, and it’s far less likely to get you thinking about my sex life. Or you can say ‘queer’. I like ‘queer’, but I’m well aware that it’s quite the loaded term for many people, so I prefer to use it only when I’m sure people will understand my meaning, and not find it offensive or triggering. Or you can say that I’m not too picky when it comes to gender****. I don’t mind, I’m not fussy. Just don’t call me bisexual.

 

*Bar the fact that I most certainly hope that you are assuming that it includes consenting adults.

**And whoever I happen to be talking to after a few margaritas. Random drunk people are relevant, right? Right?

***Not that I’d know anything about that. Nothing to do with me, them Gays And Lesbians. Entirely different category over here. Although I do have quite a similar lifestyle to many of my gay friends, so it is possible that all of us, straight people included, are Living A Homosexual Lifestyle.

****I am, actually. In my own way. But if you want to find out more about that, you’d best start making up the margaritas.

 

What do you think? Do you think that the 2010 version of me was on the mark with this one? How’d you feel about the oversexualisation of queer identities? If you’re someone who fancies people of more than one gender (high five!), how do you prefer to identify and why?

Don’t Call Me Bisexual: another oldie