Content Notes: oops, forgot content notes. Actually I don't think this post needs any? Please let me know if I've missed something!
ME: Yeah, so I wanted to let you know I started seeing someone.
MUM: Oh! What's her name?
ME: Actually it's James.
MUM: Jane?
ME: No, James.
MUM: What?
So, that was a fun conversation. Several years ago now. And indeed it was followed by my poor mother's confused refrain: Does this mean you're straight now?
No. Nope. Not even a little. No, sorry. (Wait, not sorry.)
My mum is really nice, and really supportive, and really really means well. I love her a lot. And sometimes she fucks things up. Outing me to my dad was maybe the worst mistake she made - worse because she had a really hard time understanding why it hurt me - but her clear, insistent need to label my sexuality was NOT HELPFUL, MUM, oh my god stop.
Well. She also might have had an easier time if I had reconciled myself to the word 'bisexual', you know, a lot sooner. See my first post.
To my dad's credit, the weirdest conversation I ever had with him went something like this:
DAD: All the lesbians I know have short hair. Does this mean you're going to cut your hair now?
ME: No. Nope. Not even a little. No, sorry. (Wait, not sorry.)
My dad is pretty great. Also I just told him about this blog. Hi Dad!
But to get back on topic: a casual, nonscientific, and anecdotal survey of my life so far indicates very strongly that most people find the concept that an actual person (ie, me) can be actually bisexual to be really confusing.
Another illustrative conversation took place when a college friend suggested that maybe the reason I rarely get hit on is because people can't tell if I'm straight or gay.
FRIEND: Yeah, so we were talking about this the other day when you weren't here.
ME: You what?
FRIEND: And we all agreed that you don't really present as gay or straight.
ME: ...
FRIEND: So we were thinking that maybe people don't hit on you because they can't tell what you are.
ME: *facepalm*
I would be less chagrined by this conversation if I didn't suspect that this is probably actually the case. I wish anyone who thinks I'm attractive would just tell me so. Whether or not I respond favourably isn't going to depend on their gender - it's going to depend on what I think of them as a person. (Also whether I think they're hot, which I admit seems to be a gendered proposition for most people even though I don't really understand why.)
I do realise that's easier said than done. Today I realise it with with my entire self because today I actually did message a friend and tell her that I have a bit of a crush on her.
Turns out she is straight. *sigh*
But yes, it was actually terrifying, and yes, I actually did it. You can too.
ETA: forgot content notes. Sorry!
Showing posts with label bi. Show all posts
Showing posts with label bi. Show all posts
Saturday, July 12, 2014
Tuesday, July 08, 2014
WTF is up with being bi, Part 2, in which me coming out does not magically inspire women to return the favour
Today I want to write about something difficult. Content Note for internalised homophobia.
In Part 1, I wrote that my confusion around my sexuality stemmed from my inability to comfortably fit either the "gay" or "straight" label, that my parents raised me to be open-minded, and basically that I was not overly freaked out when I realised that (some) women (sometimes) turn me on. And all of that is true.
It is true, but. Yeah, we all knew that was coming
Feeling attraction for both women and men does not mean that I have the same feelings for women and men. And it REALLY doesn't mean that I have the same feelings about my own feelings. Meta-feelings, if you will.
See, if I'm attracted to a man, I can pretty much deal with that in the same way that a straight woman might, for the most part. I can try to flirt with him (this typically entails attempting to maintain eye contact slightly past the point of discomfort, laughing uncomfortably, and then loaning him books he will probably not read). I can push past my fears of rejection and humiliation and actually ask him out (this tends to work better). It's only on the rare occasions that an actual relationship has ensued that my bisexuality is in any way relevant to the situation - and that could be a post of its own. Probably titled "A Manual for Bi Peeps to Tell Whether Their Partner Is an Asshole".
Everything is different when I'm attracted to a woman.
To begin with, the actual feelings of attraction are followed so closely by anxiety that it's like a one-two punch: heart, then gut. Rarely do I even wonder if she could return my feelings. Instead, my concern is whether she will ever find out how I feel (or felt - I've gotten pretty good at getting over crushes, especially when I really want to be friends with the woman in question) and, if she did find out, what would she think of me? Would she be disgusted? Would she be afraid of me? I have learned to view my own attraction to women as a threat to THEM.
And in the wake of the heart- and gut-wrenching punches, sadness slips in like an anaesthetic. It is the essential aloneness of being unable to trust a friend with my true self. I've grown accustomed to the sadness. It's only recently that I've begun to push back against it with anger and determination that I do not deserve to feel this way.
Of course it helps that I am mostly out now, and I've learned to embrace the awkwardness of finding absurd ways to work a reference to my sexuality into casual conversation with new acquaintances. Things that happened at Pride Week, a celebrity crush, and my work history at my alma mater's Pride Society are all pretty useful topics. In particular, I like to think that the presence of that last one on my resume helps protect me from accidentally getting hired by any homophobes.
But the fear is still there.
Any time I meet a fascinating, funny, smart, attractive woman, there's this tension. I can come out and thus make sure that she isn't a homophobe, but what next? Maybe she makes a reference to an ex-boyfriend - well, so what? I have ex-boyfriends too. That doesn't tell me anything. The more I feel attracted to her, the more afraid I am to just ask if she's straight, or in any way hint that I could possibly ever feel attraction to HER.
Which is kind of silly, right? I mean - she already knows I'm queer. It isn't that much of a stretch. Maybe I need to find even more anger to burn up these socially imposed fears.
(But Anne, you say, why don't you just find some queer women who are out, and date one of them? Oh my lovelies, that will certainly be the topic of another blog post. Short answer: YES THAT WOULD BE GREAT.)
I don't have a resolution for this post. I don't have an iron-clad determination to go forth into the world and tell cute women that I think they're cute. Maybe I'll get there.
I'd love to hear from anyone who's felt something similar. How do you process it? What do you choose to do about it? What do you wish you could do about it? What do you think I should do about it?
In Part 1, I wrote that my confusion around my sexuality stemmed from my inability to comfortably fit either the "gay" or "straight" label, that my parents raised me to be open-minded, and basically that I was not overly freaked out when I realised that (some) women (sometimes) turn me on. And all of that is true.
It is true, but. Yeah, we all knew that was coming
Feeling attraction for both women and men does not mean that I have the same feelings for women and men. And it REALLY doesn't mean that I have the same feelings about my own feelings. Meta-feelings, if you will.
See, if I'm attracted to a man, I can pretty much deal with that in the same way that a straight woman might, for the most part. I can try to flirt with him (this typically entails attempting to maintain eye contact slightly past the point of discomfort, laughing uncomfortably, and then loaning him books he will probably not read). I can push past my fears of rejection and humiliation and actually ask him out (this tends to work better). It's only on the rare occasions that an actual relationship has ensued that my bisexuality is in any way relevant to the situation - and that could be a post of its own. Probably titled "A Manual for Bi Peeps to Tell Whether Their Partner Is an Asshole".
Everything is different when I'm attracted to a woman.
To begin with, the actual feelings of attraction are followed so closely by anxiety that it's like a one-two punch: heart, then gut. Rarely do I even wonder if she could return my feelings. Instead, my concern is whether she will ever find out how I feel (or felt - I've gotten pretty good at getting over crushes, especially when I really want to be friends with the woman in question) and, if she did find out, what would she think of me? Would she be disgusted? Would she be afraid of me? I have learned to view my own attraction to women as a threat to THEM.
And in the wake of the heart- and gut-wrenching punches, sadness slips in like an anaesthetic. It is the essential aloneness of being unable to trust a friend with my true self. I've grown accustomed to the sadness. It's only recently that I've begun to push back against it with anger and determination that I do not deserve to feel this way.
Of course it helps that I am mostly out now, and I've learned to embrace the awkwardness of finding absurd ways to work a reference to my sexuality into casual conversation with new acquaintances. Things that happened at Pride Week, a celebrity crush, and my work history at my alma mater's Pride Society are all pretty useful topics. In particular, I like to think that the presence of that last one on my resume helps protect me from accidentally getting hired by any homophobes.
But the fear is still there.
Any time I meet a fascinating, funny, smart, attractive woman, there's this tension. I can come out and thus make sure that she isn't a homophobe, but what next? Maybe she makes a reference to an ex-boyfriend - well, so what? I have ex-boyfriends too. That doesn't tell me anything. The more I feel attracted to her, the more afraid I am to just ask if she's straight, or in any way hint that I could possibly ever feel attraction to HER.
Which is kind of silly, right? I mean - she already knows I'm queer. It isn't that much of a stretch. Maybe I need to find even more anger to burn up these socially imposed fears.
(But Anne, you say, why don't you just find some queer women who are out, and date one of them? Oh my lovelies, that will certainly be the topic of another blog post. Short answer: YES THAT WOULD BE GREAT.)
I don't have a resolution for this post. I don't have an iron-clad determination to go forth into the world and tell cute women that I think they're cute. Maybe I'll get there.
I'd love to hear from anyone who's felt something similar. How do you process it? What do you choose to do about it? What do you wish you could do about it? What do you think I should do about it?
Saturday, July 05, 2014
A note on terminology
I've been reading posts by other bisexual bloggers - Aud at http://evenaud.wordpress.com has some cool things to say - and I am getting the sense that it is appropriate and necessary for me to take a moment to talk about the word "bisexual" and what I consider it to mean, both when I identify myself and when I blog about it as an idea.
When I talk about bisexuality, I am talking about the state of feeling attraction independent of gender. Neither gender nor sexuality are binary, or necessarily static. The term "bisexuality" may not be the most obvious choice to represent this concept, since from an etymological standpoint, it does seem to imply a binary state of affairs. That said, it is the term I grew up hearing and associating with the state of being neither gay nor straight. (WHY did it take me so long to consider applying to myself? Seriously, if I knew the answer to that question ... well, I guess I'd have another post or two planned out.)
ANYWAY. It is the term that I feel comfortable applying to myself. In fact, I think it is the term that I actively avoided applying to myself for quite a long time. It is the term that interests me.
Of course, if anyone should comment and identify themselves as pansexual, multisexual, or any other term, I am happy to respect that and refer to people by their chosen term. My term is bisexual.
Oh, and in case the foregoing was insufficiently clear: MY BISEXUALITY IS TRANS-INCLUSIVE. Anyone who has a problem with that can fuck right off.
When I talk about bisexuality, I am talking about the state of feeling attraction independent of gender. Neither gender nor sexuality are binary, or necessarily static. The term "bisexuality" may not be the most obvious choice to represent this concept, since from an etymological standpoint, it does seem to imply a binary state of affairs. That said, it is the term I grew up hearing and associating with the state of being neither gay nor straight. (WHY did it take me so long to consider applying to myself? Seriously, if I knew the answer to that question ... well, I guess I'd have another post or two planned out.)
ANYWAY. It is the term that I feel comfortable applying to myself. In fact, I think it is the term that I actively avoided applying to myself for quite a long time. It is the term that interests me.
Of course, if anyone should comment and identify themselves as pansexual, multisexual, or any other term, I am happy to respect that and refer to people by their chosen term. My term is bisexual.
Oh, and in case the foregoing was insufficiently clear: MY BISEXUALITY IS TRANS-INCLUSIVE. Anyone who has a problem with that can fuck right off.
WTF is up with being bi, Part 1 of probably a lot of parts.
I just started a twitter account - @annelikesbooks - and for my bio, I wrote "Aspiring bisexual book blogger". I thought about clarifying that I am bisexual, and that I aspire to be a book blogger, since I have never yet actually written a book review, but then I realised that calling myself an aspiring bisexual is uncomfortably apt.
I spent a lot of time trying to pin down my sexuality in my late teens and early twenties. I've known since I was 16 and saw a picture of two women kissing that I thought it was hot. I mean. It was.
It didn't freak me out too much, and I realised that whenever I saw a couple kissing on TV, I always put myself in the man's place. I was imagining kissing women without even consciously realising it. And I think I might have been okay, and peaceful about all this - my parents are lovely and raised me to be open-minded - except that I didn't stop thinking about kissing guys, too.
My thoughts used to chase themselves around the following intersecting cycles:
1. Wherein women are attractive, and it confuses me.
Sometime around the age of 23 or 24, I gave up on trying to figure out my sexuality. I figured it was just a total mystery, absolutely incomprehensible, like quantum physics, the offside rule, or why some people like cilantro. (Just watch. Someone is going to read this, and comment that cilantro is delicious. It's going to happen.) I decided to stop worrying about it, and just allow myself to feel attraction to whoever, and I made little mental notes whenever that happened.
I found that I was sometimes attracted to men, and sometimes I kissed them, and sometimes that was fun, and sometimes it was really awkward.
I was sometimes attracted to women, and I pretty much never kissed any, because I am scared. Why am I scared of rejection from a woman, so much so that I usually can't even bring myself to admit my attraction? That is definitely a subject for another post.
Slowly, I began to realise that I actually am attracted to some men, and some women, and that the attraction is definitely real in both cases. At some point, I remembered that there is actually a term for this phenomenon.
Hi. I'm Anne. I like books - like, a LOT - and I'm pretty sure I'm bisexual. You know. Whatever that means.
*Why am I uncomfortable around so many men? I don't know that either. I expect that this will be the topic for another post in this series.
I spent a lot of time trying to pin down my sexuality in my late teens and early twenties. I've known since I was 16 and saw a picture of two women kissing that I thought it was hot. I mean. It was.
It didn't freak me out too much, and I realised that whenever I saw a couple kissing on TV, I always put myself in the man's place. I was imagining kissing women without even consciously realising it. And I think I might have been okay, and peaceful about all this - my parents are lovely and raised me to be open-minded - except that I didn't stop thinking about kissing guys, too.
My thoughts used to chase themselves around the following intersecting cycles:
1. Wherein women are attractive, and it confuses me.
- WOAH. (Not so much an actual thought as the momentarily stunned LACK of thinking I experience when I see an attractive woman.)
- I wish she would notice me. I wish she wanted to kiss me.
- OMG, what if she actually did want to kiss me. PANIC. PANIC. PANIC.
- Wait, so do I want to kiss her or not? Am I even a lesbian? Pretty sure I have to actually want to kiss a woman to be a lesbian, that is basically the definition.
- Wow, she is really pretty. (Interlude wherein I just stare at her hair for a while.)
- Oh no, she's looking this way! Avoid eye contact!
- Blush, scurry away, time passes, see another woman, WOAH.
2. Wherein men refuse to stop being attractive. Those jerks.
- Haha, this guy is so funny!
- Wow, I don't feel uncomfortable with him at all. (This is unusual and therefore noteworthy*.)
- I can totally see myself with him.
- He probably wouldn't be interested in me, though.
- Wow, he has nice arms. (Or hands, or tattoos, or abs, or whatever.)
- I can't quite tell what exact colour his eyes are. Maybe I can subtly get closer? (This never works.)
- Wait wait wait. Down, girl. Didn't you say you didn't want to date men? What happened to trying to date women? How will you ever figure out your sexuality if you never manage to even kiss a woman?
- Well, I mean, if I AM attracted to him, then there's no reason I shouldn't try to flirt with him.
- Hahaha, that was so funny! He looks cute in those jeans.
3. Wherein I try to reconcile these cycles and completely miss the obvious:
- Okay okay okay. So I saw a woman today and I totally felt attracted to her. That means I must be attracted to women.
- Well, I mean, I think what I felt was attraction? I don't know, I just kind of felt stunned and like I wanted to keep looking at her and I wanted her to pay attention to me and also I was afraid that she would look at me or talk to me or notice me at all.
- So basically I just wanted to look at her and think about her by myself, inside my head.
- That's attraction, right?
- Okay, but also there's that guy I keep talking to, and he's really nice and funny and cute. Am I attracted to him?
- Well, I mean, he's great, I really like him, but do I want to kiss him? Would that be weird? I think that would be weird.
- Maybe I'm not attracted to him at all - maybe I just feel this societal pressure to be attracted to men, and so I'm tricking myself into thinking I'm attracted to him because he's nice, and I want to fit in.
- Alright, so maybe I just like him as a person, and I'm actually attracted to women. I must be a lesbian! Oh thank god.
- ~Time passes ~ Some guy kisses me ~ I'm into it.
- Oooookay, what the hell was that.
- Clearly I am attracted to men - or at least this one here. Therefore I can't be a lesbian.
- Hmmmm, I like kissing. That was nice.
- So what's up with the whole attracted-to-women thing? Is it real? I'm attracted to this guy, obviously, so I guess I must be straight.
- Why would I spend so much time thinking about women if I'm straight?
- ~An attractive woman walks by~
- WOAH.
Sometime around the age of 23 or 24, I gave up on trying to figure out my sexuality. I figured it was just a total mystery, absolutely incomprehensible, like quantum physics, the offside rule, or why some people like cilantro. (Just watch. Someone is going to read this, and comment that cilantro is delicious. It's going to happen.) I decided to stop worrying about it, and just allow myself to feel attraction to whoever, and I made little mental notes whenever that happened.
I found that I was sometimes attracted to men, and sometimes I kissed them, and sometimes that was fun, and sometimes it was really awkward.
I was sometimes attracted to women, and I pretty much never kissed any, because I am scared. Why am I scared of rejection from a woman, so much so that I usually can't even bring myself to admit my attraction? That is definitely a subject for another post.
Slowly, I began to realise that I actually am attracted to some men, and some women, and that the attraction is definitely real in both cases. At some point, I remembered that there is actually a term for this phenomenon.
Hi. I'm Anne. I like books - like, a LOT - and I'm pretty sure I'm bisexual. You know. Whatever that means.
*Why am I uncomfortable around so many men? I don't know that either. I expect that this will be the topic for another post in this series.
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