The Fetishization of Bisexuality
Graphic by Ande Wittenmeier
Once upon a time, a young Jerk attended her very first high school party. With her best friend at her side, under the protection of the bisexual flag over their shoulders, they moved through the crowd of sweaty bodies and finally found their way into the kitchen. Suddenly, a guy with a backwards cap loomed over the pair. Gulp. One of them managed to say something somewhat normal, and the conversation flowed easily for a while. Then, in an utterly shocking and completely unpredictable twist, the guy points to the conspicuous pink, blue, and purple cape, and asks if the two girls were sleeping with each other.
If it wasn’t already obvious, the young Jerk was me. And at the time, the woman was too stunned to speak. Fifteen year old me stood there, drink in hand, jaw on the floor, before my best friend finally spoke up and explained that just because we both happened to be sexually attracted to women, it did not automatically mean that we were interested in each other. All parties involved were totally embarrassed, and once the conversation fizzled out, I realized for the first time what being openly bisexual could mean.
For starters, it could mean that men would feel threatened by my sexuality. Suddenly, I was unsure that if a man knew I was interested in women, he would automatically feel like I just wasn’t interested in men. I was under the false pretense that the colors of the flag were self explanatory, but live and learn I guess.
Secondly, I realized that individuals who identify as Bi+ were viewed by some people as objects, people who only wanted to have sex with everyone they laid eyes on and who felt nothing personal for the people they slept with.
Consequently, I took a BIG sip of my drink after my epiphany.
That was a long time ago, and now I look back on the whole thing and laugh. Come on, that straight man coming up to us and asking if we slept together? We giggled about that little tale for years. But I forget that through that experience, I was knocked deeper into the closet, and made to feel like an object.
It took me a long time to realize that it was not my responsibility to meet everyone’s expectations, or acknowledge other people’s fucked up assumptions. Sexuality is an extremely personal journey, and that experience was just one of many that made that journey difficult. It’s important to emphasize bisexual visibility within the LGBTQ+ community, and even more important to understand that not everyone identifies with one specific label. Stereotypes can be hurtful. Finding out what you like is hard. Just follow the path that feels best, ignore negativity, and (maybe as a personal note) keep an eye out for random guys in backwards baseball caps.