A personal story about discovering and coming to terms with being a bisexual man in a world full of bi-erasure and phobia.
According to Stonewall’s Home and Communities report (2018), only fourteen percent of bisexual men are out to their whole family. Forty-six percent of bisexual men aren’t out to anyone in their family. This statistic is shocking on its own, but when compared to gay men (for whom the numbers are 59 percent and ten percent respectively) the gravity of the situation presents itself.
"Shocking, but not entirely surprising."
As a bisexual man, I hid my sexuality for a long time. In fact, I even denied it. There are quite a few reasons for this, and I am sure many other bisexual men can relate.
Growing up, there was a complete lack of bisexual representation in media. From books to TV and movies, I don’t recall seeing any bisexual characters. There were images of what could be seen as bisexual women, but these images were fetishized. Women kissing other women or women having sex with other women simply to please men. It was all for the male gaze. The word bisexuality was simply not used and bisexual men went unseen.
"The word bisexuality was simply not used and bisexual men went unseen."
The lack of this word in my vocabulary set me back in my process of trying to understand myself. I had all of these feelings for multiple genders and didn’t understand what that meant. I had been told that, as a man, I should be attracted to women. I learnt what it meant to be gay, to be attracted to other men, and learnt that it was a bad thing. I never learnt anything outside of this. So how could I resolve my feelings when I was attracted to the boys and to the girls?
"The lack of this word in my vocabulary set me back in my process of trying to understand myself."
It took seven years after having these initial feelings to learn the word bisexual. But instead of this solving my issue, it presented me with a new struggle. Instead of being seen as a label to describe those who were attracted to more than one gender, it was mocked, seen as a joke. The misconceptions surrounding bisexuality came along with this newfound knowledge of the label itself. Bisexual people were in denial, kidding themselves, just trying to hide the fact that they are gay.
The world didn’t see bisexuality as a valid identity, so nor did I. This reinforced the binary of sexuality in my head – gay or straight – and I knew I had to pick one. The homophobia and biphobia that the world presented to me pushed me into picking straight. This was a choice I made outwardly, but it didn’t resolve my thoughts. My mind was still lost in confusion.
This takes its toll. The 2018 Stonewall Health report (mentioned above) found that 56 percent of bisexual men experience anxiety, 43 percent of bisexual men have had suicidal thoughts and eighteen percent of bisexual men have self-harmed. Again, when compared to gay men (for whom the numbers are 53 percent, 32 percent and seven percent respectively), the impact of biphobia and bi-erasure can be seen quite clearly.
After years of denying my sexuality to myself, I reached a breaking point and came out at 24. I started to enter LGBTQ+ spaces at 25 and learnt that this community was far from unified. LGBTQ+ spaces are so often dominated by cis, allosexual*, white, gay men and anyone who sits outside of that in any way can often feel out of place. Biphobia, transphobia, aphobia, racism and other forms of bigotry are rife within the LGBTQ+ community.
I realised that even in a space that was designed to be safe for LGBTQ+ people, as a bisexual man, I wasn’t always fully welcomed. People would question my sexuality, either on a personal level or its existence entirely. Even in the community, people assume that bisexual men are secretly gay. We are told that being bisexual is a stepping stone on the way to ‘gaytown’ and we’re simply in denial.
I can name countless times where gay people would point out a different sex couple in disgust, calling out ‘the straights’ that are ‘invading’ their space, forgetting that gay isn’t the only part of the community. These attitudes mean that bisexual people may avoid safe spaces, which also means they’re cut off from a support network they so clearly need. It is increasingly clear that the community doesn’t support bisexual people enough.
So what’s the result of all this? Bisexual people don’t come out. The lack of representation, the constant invalidation and erasure, the biphobia in society, and exclusionary practices in LGBTQ+ safe spaces mean we struggle to exist freely. This creates a vicious cycle. If bisexual people don’t come out, there’s no one to look up to, so less representation, guidance and assistance, meaning that even fewer people come out.
And so, people internalise that invalidation; at least, I did. You believe that you’re alone. That bisexual men don’t exist.
But they do.
That is why I created the bisexual men exist hashtag, to remind people that we are here. To create a wave of positivity so others can see themselves reflected in society.
"To create a wave of positivity so others can see themselves reflected in society."
The initial spark was in response to biphobia aimed at bisexual men online. The minds of these people may never be changed; such is the way of life. But if we can show that we exist loudly and freely, we can encourage others to do the same, providing the visibility and support we never had.
*Someone who does experience sexual attraction.
Article Written By Vaneet Mehta
(He/Him)
Photo Credit: @Dan Govan
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