Bi Bi Bi: An Essay On the Bisexual Identity

For bi visibility week, let's talk about the strange place that the "Bs" of LGBTQ+ find ourselves in

Image via Wikimedia Commons

Most people know me as a polyamorous person, and that comes with a lot of assumptions about my sexuality. But before I considered myself polyamorous, I identified as bisexual. In fact, I identified as bisexual before I deconstructed. Before I had kids. Before I got married. Before I’d even had sex for the first time. I wrote it down on a post in my LiveJournal — I was 14 years old, a freshman in high school.

The students at my school, the emo, nu-metal, and punk kids of the 2000s, introduced me to terms I’d never heard before. “Straight edge.” “Hardcore.” “ACAB.” And finally, “bisexual.”

Of course, I was already informed about “gay” and “homosexual.” I was the child of conservative Christian parents and extended family in the ‘90s: I heard some pretty awful things from them and at the pulpit. I remember learning the term “lesbian” specifically in 6th grade, at a friend’s house where it was on the news. But “bisexual” was new to me.

And when I learned it — from a girl named Eve — some things began to fall into place. I’d always had crushes on boys. Boy-girl relationships were all I’d ever witnessed, and the only relationship option in every media I consumed. But I started to think about how there were certain girls I had really, really liked in 8th grade. Almost to an obsessive point. I thought to myself, I want THEM to be my best friend.

But as I looked up more about bisexuality and saw photos of other girls kissing each other, I realized all the notes I’d written a girl named Mari and how much I thought about her was the same as how I felt about boys. So I “came out” as bisexual on LiveJournal. Which was cool, until my mom saw it. And cried. I thought to myself, “Well, I guess same-sex relationships are still sinful after all. So, I’ll only go for boys then.”

After that, even though I’d go on to kiss a few girls for fun (always in front of boys, seemingly for attention), I didn’t have sex or date a woman until Daniel and I converted our monogamous relationship to a polyamorous one.

Eager as I was to identify publicly as bisexual, in the mid-2010s, there was a certain movement in the LGBTQ+ community to vilify the word “bisexual.” I was still getting my bearings straight (haha) regarding queer culture and polyamorous culture, and some terms and ideas were new to me. “I’m pansexual,” someone declared. “I’m not only attracted to TWO genders. There are more than two genders, duh!” Was bisexuality inherently transphobic? I wasn’t sure, but I clung to the identity regardless: it was SUCH a big deal for me to come out as bi in my teens and it had been a defining moment for me to realize something about myself that made me a little bit different from most Christian girls I knew.

Later, I came to see that those definitions and assumptions had jumped the gun, and whichever Tumblr people are in charge of acceptable terminology for queer people decided that “bisexual” actually meant attraction to more than one gender, while “pansexual” meant attraction to people regardless of gender. Rereading that sentence, I can see how these concepts might be difficult for folks raised without this stuff to understand, but there’s a subtle distinction.

(In fact, some people claim the purple stripe between the blue flag is for genders other than male and female. I don’t know if that’s true, but I like the thought.)

Regardless, bisexuality now has a weird space in public culture. A lot of monosexuals, especially those who are homosexual, feel like some of their safe spaces have been invaded by “bi girls with boyfriends” and feel as if they haven’t experienced queerness and stigma in the way they have. There’s some merit to that last point — I know that my relationships appear very “hetero,” even being polyamorous. I am dating three men, two of whom are straight, and one woman. All are cisgender. I’ve likely taken part in more homophobia as a Republican teenager than I have personally experienced it.

I resent the arguments about bisexual people in heterosexual relationships. Especially on behalf of my monogamous bisexual friends, and especially as an exvangelical. I know many people who are happily married and are only just now discovering their sexuality. If non-monogamy isn’t for them, what are they supposed to do? They finally have access to an identity that feels valuable and important to them, only to be told it “doesn’t count” by others. There are a million meme pages that mock bi girls with male partners regularly.

Bi men are often scared to explore with other men, having had no teenage exploration and often having no other experience — which can be scary as soon as you open Grindr and see what’s being advertised.

There are reasons why bisexual people are more likely to choose partners of the “opposite” sex, and the first reason is math. There are more men attracted to women than there are women attracted to women, and more women attracted to men than there are men attracted to men. Nonbinary and trans people are rarer, despite what the conservative news media may tell you, so it’s far more likely to end up with a cisgender partner as well.

The second reason is comfort and familiarity. Monogamous people may be frightened by the idea of taking extra steps to have children if that’s something they desire, especially those of us who weren’t raised around same-sex couples. And perhaps other people, like me, denied their bisexuality for years to appease conservative relatives and culture.

Of course, as immersed as I am in alternative sexualities and queer culture, I’ve seen another issue crop up recently. A lesbian comedian I saw on Instagram (I’m sorry I don’t remember your name — reach out if this is you!) made a joke that some bisexual women start to talk about their partners the same way that boomer men talk about their wives. “Like ahh, Greg sucks ass! He’s the old ball and chain! I hate men lmao, I guess Greg is fine though!” and I agree 100%.

I no longer denigrate men as a joke, because it does nothing to advance my feminism. I complain about certain men, toxic masculinity, and patriarchy, but I don’t believe in “fuck all men” and for my boys’ sake, I hope other people feel the same.

I’m bisexual. I’m a PRACTICING bisexual. I have partners of male/female genders. But I cherish and love my male partners, too. They’re incredible people, and I chose to be with them for those values and yes, because I’m proudly attracted to men. I don’t need to win at queerness. I only need to surround myself with people who see me and love me for who I am.

But I remember the moments of seeing a body like mine, body parts like mine, the amazing feeling of attraction to women that always feels a little bit like magic. And yes, for me at least, the relationship feels like a deep friendship, someone who gets you, someone who is gentle and fierce all at once. I haven’t dated as many women as I have men (and in fact, my WORST EVER BAD EX is a woman) but I undeniably love how exhilarating it feels to know a woman in that way and to have them racing through your mind while you’re asleep (next to a man). It really is a blessing to be polyamorous.

But, you don’t have to be polyamorous to experience your full bisexuality. You are bisexual. You matter, and you can hold nuances in yourself. Yes, you’re not as likely to experience homophobia if you’re dating someone who is or looks like a gender that’s different from yours. You don’t need to explain yourself, and you don’t need to prove your bisexuality to anyone. You can just be exactly who you are. Don’t overcompensate. Be madly in love with whoever your partner is, whatever their gender is. That’s the benefit of bisexuality.

Oh yeah, and if you ARE a polyamorous bisexual, you do not have to have performative threesomes to appease your male partner. You don’t have to feign attraction to one partner to have sex with another when talking to another person who’s part of a couple. (But I will say this about being a polyamorous bisexual…)