The Chameleons of Sexuality
More people than ever are coming out as bi — a decisive majority of all LGBT people, in fact. Yet we still often remain invisible to mainstream society. Existing in the void created by the popular misconception of sexual orientation as a gay/straight binary, many of us learn to adapt. We become chameleons of sexuality, camouflaging ourselves to suit our environment. For bi men, this can mean de-emphasizing our so-called feminine side. But while code-switching works as a strategy for social expedience, the need to engage in it speaks to a lack of bi community — and it’s time we changed that.
A new study in the Journal of Sex Research asked participants to listen to the voices of 60 men and rate how masculine they sounded to them, as well as take a guess at their sexual orientation. 20 of the men were straight, 20 bi, and 20 gay. The participants could correctly identify the straight and gay men more often than not. However, they were unable to accurately pick out the bi men. In fact, participants rated bi men as having the most masculine voices of the three, even more so than straight men. Since homosexuality and bisexuality in men are commonly stereotyped as being effeminate, the participants assumed that these masculine-sounding bi men must be straight.
What explains the results of this study? Are we bisexual men just extraordinarily manly? Do we throw down shots of whisky, fell mighty trees with axes, possess an inordinate amount of chest hair, and generally exude an eau de testostérone? Perhaps. Or maybe some of us are simply posturing. Surveys have found that many straight women have a bias against openly bi men when it comes to dating. And numerically, straight women make up the vast majority of the potential dating pool for bi men. By switching on a masculine affect when courting women, bi men can dispel the myth that we are just gay and in denial and appear more stereotypically heterosexual.
Percentage of correct guesses of male speakers' sexual orientation by the sound of their voice. Source: Journal of Sex Research
Navigating the world as a bi man involves contortions that monosexual people can scarcely imagine. In high school, I once had to assure a girl I was dating that I had never had sex with another man (at least not at that time). She replied, “Good, because I don’t want AIDS.” Interacting with gay men is also not without its complications when you’re bi. I’ve experienced fetishization — some guys get titillated, thinking me especially masculine because I’ve also been with women. But if things get even a little bit serious, the same guys will turn around and reject the very notion of bisexuality, demanding that I “pick a side.” These experiences, and many more subtle ones like it, set me up for a lifetime of code-switching. We absorb cues through osmosis and learn to adjust. The short-lived convenience of morphing into whoever one needs to be in order to escape censure or increase our chances of desire fulfillment is tempting for those of us who can manage it. The ability to be perceived as straight in front of parents and fabulously gay at particular nightclubs can seem like a superpower — like getting the best of both worlds. When we are rejected by both the gay and the straight communities, a mask can seem like a refuge.
But this isn’t working for us. Bisexual people have higher rates of depression and anxiety compared to our straight or gay neighbors. Of course, there is nothing inherent to bisexuality that makes people depressed or anxious. Rather, it is a consequence of the biphobic ways in which others often treat us, as well as the isolation that comes from a lack of community. The gay community has a storied history, with gay establishments dating back at least as far as the 17th century. Straight people can find community simply by participating in mainstream society. Despite our numbers, finding bi community is a far more difficult task because of how invisible we are to the general public. Thanks to a social phenomenon called bi erasure, most people can look right at a bi person - even when they’re behaving bisexually (use your imagination!) and telling the world they’re bi - and still not think of the person as bisexual. Community matters tremendously because it provides us with a network of mutual affirmation, support, and social safety. This is vital for well-being. And too many of us have gone without it for far too long.
But we are not at the mercy of other people’s shortcomings. An important first step to finding community is to openly identify ourselves as bi rather than play coy with wishy-washy sentiments like “I don’t like labels.” Telepathy is the stuff of science fiction, so labels matter. Sure, they can, at times, be restrictive, but they are also indispensable for organizing our thinking around common terminology to help us recognize and address issues that might otherwise go unnoticed. In many places, people are not free to openly express their sexuality, but for those of us who are able to come out of the closet as queer, we should have no qualms about specifying our bisexuality. If we live openly bisexual lives, we should not be afraid to call it by its name. We can step forward and be seen, or we can remain in our old haunt of ambiguity. There can be no bi community if its members do not identify themselves as such.
John and his wife, Monica.
Community also entails shared spaces. Where are the bi bars, bi clubs, and bi community theater companies? We need more places where we can let our masks drop, where we can see one another for who we are and simply be ourselves together. Some of this will be a matter of discovery, and some will be a matter of invention, but like any good community, the journey of building something special with other people will give us a shared experience that we can hold on to.
To be clear, the intention here is not to sequester ourselves away, or to argue for the creation of some kind of separate, parallel society. Yes, integration must be the ultimate goal, not only of bi folks, but of all LGBT people if we are to gain and maintain true social equality, help shape society along with everyone else, as well as benefit from all that society has to offer. But none of that will ever happen if we cannot wholly be ourselves in the first place — and that requires shared bi spaces.
We need more places that aren’t just about being LGBT or queer in general, but about being bisexual in particular. Because in LGBT or queer spaces, for all their talk of inclusivity, we are erased. The default centering of gay (or less often lesbian) keeps us on the sidelines. We need more organizations like the bi social club amBi that help empower people to build in-person bi communities wherever they live. I myself have begun the process of helping to build a chapter in Houston, Texas. Having lived without a bi community for so long, I have trouble imagining exactly what shape the group might take, but I am excited to see what it will become.
I am many things: A husband, a man, a son, a writer, a lover of nature. And not insignificantly, I am bi. If you are too, I hope you will join me in trying to foster a more defined bi community together. To those who are not bi, it would go a long way to simply acknowledge that bi people exist, and to be mindful that bisexuality is not always apparent at a glance. Being in a same or opposite-sex relationship does not necessarily mean someone is automatically gay or straight. Nor does the way they present, dress, or speak. Researchers have shown how we make ourselves blend in. Now is the time to make ourselves visible.
Source: https://www.queermajority.com/essays-all/the-chameleons-of-sexuality
