Internal worlds: bisexuality is different for everyone

By Jonno Revanche

It feels like there is nothing more divisive in the queer community than bisexuality, and in addition to that, reactions towards bisexual people and their lives.

Depending on who you talk to you’re probably going to be met with one of two reactions to these discussions, the first one being: “bisexual people struggle due to bi-erasure!!” and the second one being “bi-sexual people experience privilege due to passing as straight!!”

It’s a bit frustrating having to continually navigate these arguments, especially as someone who feels like they aren’t necessarily fully straight nor fully gay, though most of my partners (both romantically and sexually) have been cis men.

It’s also indicative of a wider problem in social justice or leftist spaces. That is, categorising everything with a one sentence answer and not contemplating how things are defined by the basis of context, and how people can experience both privilege and oppression simultaneously. It’s almost as if, a lot of the time, people just can’t accept that the world is complex and people within it are complex!

What I would like to posit is that you can experience oppression as part of bi-erasure via a delegitimisation of your identity, while still possibly experiencing surface level privileges in a “straight” relationship… whatever that means.

From the outside, this will enable you to apply for housing relatively easily, be met with ambivalent or positive reactions when you’re seen together in public, and institutional privileges that come from being in a seemingly heterosexual relationship. And of course, many of these privileges are often only available if both of the people in this relationship are cis.

To ignore this stark reality is ignorant and irresponsible.

Whether this can be seen as “privilege” necessarily is harder to say, but I’ll explain that further a bit later.

However, I also believe in the concept of something I’d like to call the “internal world” which is the oppression and inner dialogue we experience predominantly within ourselves. I’m essentially referring to our thoughts and feelings, which are absolutely influenced by oppression in insidious ways. These factors are sometimes just as important as outward perception of our identity and affect our self-worth, our mental health, our confidence, and our ability to find ourselves in the physical world too.

When I was waiting at the bus stop with my boyfriend the other week we were confronted by a vitriolic punk looking guy who decided to randomly flip the bird at us. Initially, I was confused by this action. We were being affectionate towards each other in public but not overtly, which was maybe why I felt like I had been cheated by this aggression, or something like that. After living in Sydney for a good 8 months, this behaviour was unfamiliar and strange to me. The next 20 seconds panned out as follows:

– I frown, totally unimpressed by what had just happened.

– The guy continues to garble angry and poisonous words in our general direction.

– My boyfriend is turned the other way, completely unaware and unfazed, humming to himself. Typical!!!!

– i flip the bird back. (i feel a rush of justice because i’d always wanted to do that.)

– He calls us faggots and queers and mutters the word “disgusting” multiple times within the same sentence. I don’t understand the repetition really because it wasn’t textually necessary in that situation. Like it would be much more cool and effective at the whole diss thing if he looked like he didn’t care, but he cared so much, and generally it was just really embarrassing to witness…

These kinds of things have been pretty common when I’m in Adelaide and holding hands with my BF in public, but usually they’re more subtle.

They may manifest through passive aggression, from institutional exclusion from scenes and friendship groups, and even disapproving sideway glances in the street. In the past, I may have used this as an excuse to feel angry at people in “heterosexual relationships” – even toward people who are bisexual, by comparing my experiences to these people.

I misguided my energy in an attempt to make me feel better about my own reality. I used to feel that bisexual people took up a lot of space in queer discourse, often talking over gay people who, I simplistically felt, often bear the brunt of homophobia. I felt that bi people in heterosexual relationships shouldn’t be in the conversation when they’re a part of heterosexual relationships, because people see them as heterosexual and grant them surface level privileges.

Outwardly, this may be true. But the fact is, oppression shouldn’t be viewed simply as how the outside world treats us in these obviously overt instances.

Because bisexual people experience different kind of treatment in different contexts. I began to become more reflexive about the way I understood privilege and took it upon myself to work through this, creating discussions in my community, and now my views are a bit less black and white. I realised that a lot of it came from my own internalised confusion about sexuality as well, and all I was doing was hurting myself by thinking this way. And as a non-binary person, a lot of these things I was thinking were damaging to my own self esteem in regards to gender.

In an article for Archer, Misty Farquhar writes: “it is easy to find examples of mainstream society policing these binaries (of sexuality and gender). Think non-consensual surgeries for intersex people and trans people jumping through bureaucratic hoops to access appropriate medical services. But binary policing is alive and well within the LGBT community, too.This policing leads to frightening mental health outcomes for people who are non-binary (and who are bisexual). Where the LGBT population is significantly more likely to experience mental health issues than the rest of the population, the rate is even higher for bisexual, trans, and intersex people. Dismissal, disbelief and exclusivity are likely factors.”

You could even say that not all bisexual people face the same discrimination – maybe they face more discrimination when they’re in “same sex” relationships, and maybe that changes depending on the context. For example, a white bisexual person may be treated very differently to a latino bisexual person because of preconceived stereotypes and how they enact themselves in the day to day. Different countries and spaces may have different views on bisexuality than they do to simply being gay. Maybe rejection from same sex people based on their bisexual status is a part of higher suicide rates too. Maybe oppression isn’t an all-consuming label and that it changes depending on our own, specific individual lives and experiences.

When we think of oppression, we view it in ways that simplify what is actually happening to us in our day to day lives. Bisexual people don’t encounter the same sort of diverse representation in media that white cis gay men do, for example: they are often portrayed as promiscuous, confused, or one sided. In addition, there simply aren’t the same kind of resources or institutions, in Australia at least, that provide specifically catered counselling or services to bisexual people. Maybe this would be necessary, because talking to someone about the experiences you face exclusively as a bisexual person might be what people need to feel more at home in themselves, and validated in their identity.

I’ve heard stories from multiple people that have experienced backlash from telling their parents or friends that they’re bisexual, that it’s “just a phase” and that they’re making it up for attention. I think this is unfortunate. We’re told we have to be either “one or the other.” It centres our identity into a binary once again, because that’s easier to stomach in our ultra organised and commodified capitalist world. While for a long time I identified as gay, because I found myself being attracted to mostly men/masc women and non-men, I don’t think that fully summarises my sexuality. I think I had internalised biphobia I had to work through, and I think it was even more prevalent than regular homophobia. It’s only recently that I’ve opened myself back up to those possibilities.

I feel like these same narratives of oppression that don’t take into account the power of the “internal world” impact trans people negatively too. While some trans people may “pass” as one gender, or seem generally gender conforming, they still feel a detachment from the world around them because there’s no positive representation for them to look to. They still experience some of the highest rates of suicide in the world. They can’t find resources that validate them or actualise their experiences and tell them that what they’re feeling and thinking is ok. I think we need to realise that being met with homophobic abuse is horrible, but sometimes the feelings of doubt we create ourselves, and the things we say to ourselves in the absence of support, is often even more crippling.

Ultimately, it would be interesting to see if debate around oppression changes and becomes more reflexive. We need to open our minds and hearts to all kinds of possibilities instead of relying on purely identity centric dialogues that don’t talk about context. I think this will include emotions and experiences in our politics, and both of those things have to be prevalent if we’re actually aiming to create a fair, just world.