I never really came out as bisexual, and the invisibility can stingSource:
https://www.theguardian.com/commentisfree/2...ility-can-sting
I
never really had to come out as bisexual, because honestly, it just
never came up.Iâve dated women before, and told a handful of my friends and my immediate family, so itâs
not like itâs a secret, but my only
two long-term relationships have been with men, so most people just
assume Iâm straight. (In fairness, the frilly dresses and obsession with TimothĂŠe Chalamet probably lure people into a false sense of heterosexuality as well.) Itâs often easier just not to correct them.
I do have a
trick for when I want to let people know. I have a
trilogy of bad dates I went on between my relationships, and I fire them off in quick succession.
âThe
first guy turned out to have a
secret son, the
second dude got way too annoyed at me for
not reading enough books, and the last one,
she turned up to a date
black-out drunk.âItâs a
âblink and you might miss itâ pronoun revelation. Everyone is too afraid to ask, for fear that they might have just misheard.
Having
never been in a serious relationship with a woman Iâve never been forced to have those
difficult conversations with my extended family, or compose an Instagram post declaring my identity. Because I never had to, I never did. Iâve certainly
reaped the benefits of that decision, but it
isnât without consequences.When
23 September rolls around and
âbi-visibility dayâ posts fill my social media feed, it
makes me feel strange, because I know my own actions, and a society with a long history of heteronormativity have combined to make me almost invisible.
Being
part of the LGBTQ+ community has never really felt like something within my grasp. I say to myself,
I havenât struggled like everyone else did.
No one has ever told me Iâm
going to hell for loving my partner, or
glared at me for holding his hand. So in a way, claiming to be one of them makes me
feel like a fraud.I went through all the
emotional turmoil, self-hatred and unrequited love in high school to be part of the club, but then itâs almost like Iâve let my membership card expire.
And
bisexuality is different to being gay in a lot of ways. There is far
less culture and language or established identities to gravitate towards. Besides tucking in my shirt, cuffing my jeans and loudly listening to the song Sweater Weather there isnât much I can do to âconnect with my peopleâ.
âBi-cultureâ is slowly developing, but sometimes it still feels like the most cohesive
common experience we have is people
dismissing bi-men as gay and bi-women as experimenting.Having only been in relationships with men, even other LBGTQ+ people I have come out to have their
blind spots when it comes to my sexuality.
Proudly gay people have proclaimed themselves to be the
âonly queer person in the roomâ as my boyfriend
squeezes my hand because he knows it
bothers me. Other
bisexual women have had me cornered at a party explaining how I
âwouldnât understand their experienceâ. Itâs a first-world problem, but it still
stings.There is also a part of me thatâs afraid that
if Iâm too loud about my identity, people will think I
donât love my boyfriend. When you are bi or pansexual, but in a relationship, the very act of defining that part of your identity is
highlighting the fact that there are
other people that you could possibly be
attracted to. My incredibly supportive boyfriend isnât fazed by that, but I still worry about the world judging our partnership as
less worthy and less pure.The other problem with
never really having
come out is you also never really have to
deal with your own ingrained hatred of your sexuality. In all honesty, a large part of the reason I never posted about it to social media is the
fear of seeming cringeworthy. âHonestly,â I would say to myself,
âwho really gives a shit?âThere have been times that I have
told people Iâm bi and they reply,
âOh, well who isnât?â Iâm sure they were trying to make the (very valid) argument that
everyone falls somewhere along the sexuality spectrum, but all that turn of phrase achieves is compounding my feeling that if I âcome outâ people would just
think Iâm seeking attention.Bi representation on TV is slowly getting better with B
rooklyn 99, Crazy Ex Girlfriend and even reality shows
Vanderpump Rules featuring characters and cast members explicitly
defining themselves as bisexual, but this still in far from the norm.
Actor
Kristen Bell confirmed her character in the Good Place, Elenor, was bi in an interview but said they
didnât need that to be âharped onâ or made explicit in the show.
Often
on TV the best you get is half a line about
âsexuality being a spectrumâ and their identity remains unnamed and unexplained. Itâs
almost like the word bisexual is a bit
passĂŠ or uncool. So, in turn, Iâve always been embarrassed to use it.
The
raging pit of internalised biphobia within me would look at other people brandishing their sexual identity and
wonder why they donât just be a bit mor
e low key about it like me. Itâs easy to
pass off being semi-closeted as just being
socially progressive sometimes. Itâs also easy to use derision to
hide your own green envy of othersâ capacity for
self-acceptance.I
wouldnât change my relationship for anything, but I
shouldnât feel like I have to in order to validate my identity.
Being
invisible and quiet and oh-so-casually surfing the
âheterosexual until proven otherwiseâ wave is
easy. It served me well for a while but now it feels like Iâm
enforcing the very social pressures that have silenced me since I was teenager.
So, with that being said, this
bi visibility day feels as good as any to decide for myself that
my LGBTQ+ membership card has been renewed.
Added on Being a purely gay person, I never realised the internal struggles by bi people. This article is really eye-opening.
It's one day late but Happy Bi-Visibility Day, everyone!