Am I Gay Enough to Write This?
I have a rainbow flag in my twitter bio. My email signoff has my pronouns pre-coded. I proudly consider myself a pleasure-forward sex educator. In my Queen’s admission essay, I wrote about the importance of including LGBTQ+ kids in Ontario’s sex-ed curriculum. My longest relationship was with another woman.
So, I was shocked when someone suggested I was experiencing internalized biphobia. This suggestion happened during my first attempt at a Pride-month article. I sat down to write about the process of coming out. As I did, I was plagued with guilt. I firmly believe that elevating those in marginalized positions to speak for themselves is superior to taking the microphone and saying what you assume they’d say, or what you deem important.
As I tried to clunk out a few paragraphs, a tiny voice whispered that I was stealing this opportunity away from someone else - someone gay-er. The voice mutated to a shout and suddenly I couldn’t help but feel like an imposter. I simply did not feel Queer enough.
I have always used the label Queer, or not-straight, to describe myself. While I remain very comfortable with it, I am now questioning the merits behind it. Do I use Queer because I am afraid my Pride-Card will be snatched away if I say bisexual? Or is it because I’m afraid of being accused of ‘just trying to be interesting’ if I say pansexual?
I reflect on my previously mentioned relationship. Immediately, I felt the need to confess to her that I also liked men. So as to give her the opportunity to leave in case she wanted a true, sterling lesbian. I, and many other bi and pan folk, anticipate rejection.
We are too gay for the straight-world, but never gay enough for the Queer one. There is, undoubtedly, a privilege in being able to be in a heterosexual relationship. In high school, it allowed me to fly under the radar and figure everything out at my own speed. the other side of the coin holds a dangerous standard of erasure. You will find those who claim suffering is integral to the Queer experience. You will find those who demand that exclusivity and rigidity are criteria for straightness.
While all forms of Queer-phobia sting, I was surprised to learn that biphobia bruises too. Bisexual womxn are far more likely to experience intimate partner violence than straight or lesbian womxn, with one study finding 75% of bisexual womxn report being victimized1. A similar trend can be seen when looking at bisexual men. There are a lot of explanatory theories. One states that bisexual people are stereotyped to be hypersexual, and thus just coming out is seen as an invitation for sex. Another posits that individuals believe their bisexual partner is more likely to cheat, and thus they anger and become abusive more quickly. An even more bleak one suggests society is frustrated with bisexual people for failing to pick a side, and this crops up as diminished confidence - leading bisexuals to ignore red flags in search of someone who accepts them.
Pride is liberation. It is defying convention, especially when convention is harmful. It is authenticity, zagg-ing when everyone is zigg-ing, and building a new status quo. Pansexuality is defined by refusing to make inane sacrifices. It is about ripping boxes and mashing them back together again before burning down the whole cardboard mess. What upholds Marsha P. Johnson’s, Sylvia Rivera’s, and Stormé DeLarverie’s legacies better than that?
So, am I gay enough to be writing this article? Certainly not. I’m 0% gay, and 100% bi/pan/whatever sexual. But am I Queer enough to be writing this article? I am making peace with the fact that some who read this will definitively say no. Maybe it is just that - that some say I am not Queer - which qualifies me to publish in a Pride issue.
References
Nicole L. Johnson & MaryBeth Grove (2017) Why Us? Toward an Understanding of Bisexual Women's Vulnerability for and Negative Consequences of Sexual Violence, Journal of Bisexuality, 17:4, 435-450, DOI: 10.1080/15299716.2017.1364201
By: Annika Bey