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earnestdesire:
Bisexual Erasure and Opposite-Gender Marriage
(This starts out rather personal, but I promise it relates to fandom issues. Bear with me.)
Yesterday was my eighth wedding anniversary. I’ve been with my husband for 13 years, which amounts to, quite literally, our entire adult lives. Every year, I ponder the fact that my marriage is celebrated on the day after Bisexual Awareness Day. Some years that makes me proud. Sometimes it makes me feel vulnerable. This year, I mostly felt tired. So damn tired.
Because here’s the thing:
I am still a bisexual woman.
I haven’t been intimate with another woman since I was in high school, and I am still LGBT. My marriage to a straight, cisgender man doesn’t negate that. My daughter—the biological representation of our love and, more pertinently, our active sex life—doesn’t negate that. Being bisexual in an opposite-gender partnership isn’t at all like being closeted… except for all the ways that it is.
There’s a persistent subtext in the LGBTQA+ community which insists that cisgender, bisexual people in passing relationships are in the closet. That bisexuality isn’t an orientation so much as a way to avoid admitting you’re gay. An “excuse” for husbands who cheat on their cisgender wives with other men. A way for women to “experiment” with lesbianism, and then retreat back into the loving arms of heteronormative society, as soon as they find a man to love and/or breed them. I’m being deliberately harsh, here. This is the message. This is the prevailing belief.
If an LGBTQA+ person “passes,” in any regard, then they must be closeted. And to be closeted is to betray your community.
The irony, of course, is that this treatment often forces cisgender bisexuals back into the closet. Bi folks in straight-passing relationships feel we aren’t earning our place at the LGBTQA+ table. We aren’t currently suffering most of the consequences, day to day, so we shouldn’t try to partake of any of the rewards (such as they are). We often just aren’t welcome. I feel a million times more awkward coming out to other non-hetero people than I do to cisgender heterosexuals. The latter might be uncomfortable or confused; the former thinks of me as a traitor. You can see why cis-bi people, historically, haven’t participated much in the broader dialogue of LGBTQA+ rights.
I know. I promised this relates to fandom. It definitely, definitely does.
Because here’s the other thing:
Television shows and movies routinely use opposite-gender marriage (and the creation of babies) to negate the apparent same-gender attraction of their characters.
When a character starts to be viewed by fans as romantically interested in a same-gender counterpart, marrying them off to an opposite-gender partner is used a “proof” of his/her heterosexuality. Sometimes, it doesn’t go this far—sometimes they stop at merely dating—but in cases where the shipping of same-gender characters is persistent and well-supported, marriage is treated like the final trump card. “You see? He can’t be gay. Nobody who’s attracted to men would marry a woman he loves!”
I personally think of this method as Marry the Gay Away.
I don’t have to list the examples for you (although I will, a bit.) Arthur Pendragon? Remus Lupin? James Wilson? Tony Stark? John Watson? Canon bisexuals are often “fixed” with serious straight-passing relationships when their print characters make the leap to TV and film. Deadpool? Constantine? Ruth Jamison? Clay Easton? In an odd twist on the trope, Blaine Anderson from Glee tells Kurt that he believes he might be bisexual, and Kurt tells him that, “Bisexual is a term gay guys use in high school when they want to hold hands with girls and feel normal for a change.” By the end of the episode, Blaine is back to calling himself gay. Of course, eventually, he marries Kurt to prove it.
A character doesn’t need to date a same-sex partner to be bisexual. These queerbait-and-switch marriages are so insulting. No… they’re agonizing. They belittle both my bisexuality and my opposite-gender marriage. I didn’t marry my husband because he was a man; I married him because I loved him. We don’t “prove” our sexual orientation by having sex with the “right” people. By that logic, all virgins must be considered of ambiguous sexuality because “how can they know if they’ve never tried it?”
But we do know. It might take a while to figure it out, and that’s okay. Some LGBTQA+ people never, ever come out, and that’s okay, too. I see you. You’re real. Your sexuality and gender-identity is up to you to decide, and how you choose to express it is up to you, too.
Actions aren’t always attraction.
Sexuality is complex, but people are inherently simple. Mostly, we want to be loved. We want to belong somewhere. We want family. We will make all kinds of sacrifices to secure those three things, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice at all. Gay men marry cis-women, and usually they really love them. They may have children together. Some Ace people choose to have sex with their partners. Poly people might choose physical monogamy as a concession to their partner’s needs. Trans people put off coming out because they fear hurting their friends and families. Judging people for how and with whom they find love and security isn’t productive. Gender identity is personal. Sexuality is personal. Sex and partnership are about a lot more than who we find attractive.
Allowing a character to be bisexual on-screen, even and perhaps especially in the context of an opposite-gender marriage, is about acknowledging that complexity. John Watson can be in love Sherlock Holmes, and still marry Mary Morstan. Ruth Jamision can marry a man and bear his child, and still want Idgie Threadgoode at the end of the story. It’s about representation, yes, and that matters a lot to me. But it’s also about love. Love is love is love, isn’t it? I desperately wish the media would stop using marriages like mine to argue for the opposite.
We know from research that, on balance, bisexuality is more common than homosexuality among self-reporting LGBTQA+ people. I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that bisexuality is vastly underreported. The pressure to align with one end of the spectrum or the other is intense. I’m not the smartest or the most educated person to tackle this topic in the last ten years, but here are a few good resources:
Why Are We Still Negating Bisexuality in Television?
BISEXUALITY IN THE MEDIA: WHERE ARE THE BISEXUALS ON TV?
Erasure of Bisexuality by GLAAD
How Many People are Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender?
Sexual Behavior, Sexual Attraction, and Sexual Identity in the United States: Data From the 2006–2008 National Survey of Family Growth
Take care of yourselves, my loves. Thanks for reading. You’re always welcome here.
(Your picture was not posted)
earnestdesire:
Bisexual Erasure and Opposite-Gender Marriage
(This starts out rather personal, but I promise it relates to fandom issues. Bear with me.)
Yesterday was my eighth wedding anniversary. I’ve been with my husband for 13 years, which amounts to, quite literally, our entire adult lives. Every year, I ponder the fact that my marriage is celebrated on the day after Bisexual Awareness Day. Some years that makes me proud. Sometimes it makes me feel vulnerable. This year, I mostly felt tired. So damn tired.
Because here’s the thing:
I am still a bisexual woman.
I haven’t been intimate with another woman since I was in high school, and I am still LGBT. My marriage to a straight, cisgender man doesn’t negate that. My daughter—the biological representation of our love and, more pertinently, our active sex life—doesn’t negate that. Being bisexual in an opposite-gender partnership isn’t at all like being closeted… except for all the ways that it is.
There’s a persistent subtext in the LGBTQA+ community which insists that cisgender, bisexual people in passing relationships are in the closet. That bisexuality isn’t an orientation so much as a way to avoid admitting you’re gay. An “excuse” for husbands who cheat on their cisgender wives with other men. A way for women to “experiment” with lesbianism, and then retreat back into the loving arms of heteronormative society, as soon as they find a man to love and/or breed them. I’m being deliberately harsh, here. This is the message. This is the prevailing belief.
If an LGBTQA+ person “passes,” in any regard, then they must be closeted. And to be closeted is to betray your community.
The irony, of course, is that this treatment often forces cisgender bisexuals back into the closet. Bi folks in straight-passing relationships feel we aren’t earning our place at the LGBTQA+ table. We aren’t currently suffering most of the consequences, day to day, so we shouldn’t try to partake of any of the rewards (such as they are). We often just aren’t welcome. I feel a million times more awkward coming out to other non-hetero people than I do to cisgender heterosexuals. The latter might be uncomfortable or confused; the former thinks of me as a traitor. You can see why cis-bi people, historically, haven’t participated much in the broader dialogue of LGBTQA+ rights.
I know. I promised this relates to fandom. It definitely, definitely does.
Because here’s the other thing:
Television shows and movies routinely use opposite-gender marriage (and the creation of babies) to negate the apparent same-gender attraction of their characters.
When a character starts to be viewed by fans as romantically interested in a same-gender counterpart, marrying them off to an opposite-gender partner is used a “proof” of his/her heterosexuality. Sometimes, it doesn’t go this far—sometimes they stop at merely dating—but in cases where the shipping of same-gender characters is persistent and well-supported, marriage is treated like the final trump card. “You see? He can’t be gay. Nobody who’s attracted to men would marry a woman he loves!”
I personally think of this method as Marry the Gay Away.
I don’t have to list the examples for you (although I will, a bit.) Arthur Pendragon? Remus Lupin? James Wilson? Tony Stark? John Watson? Canon bisexuals are often “fixed” with serious straight-passing relationships when their print characters make the leap to TV and film. Deadpool? Constantine? Ruth Jamison? Clay Easton? In an odd twist on the trope, Blaine Anderson from Glee tells Kurt that he believes he might be bisexual, and Kurt tells him that, “Bisexual is a term gay guys use in high school when they want to hold hands with girls and feel normal for a change.” By the end of the episode, Blaine is back to calling himself gay. Of course, eventually, he marries Kurt to prove it.
A character doesn’t need to date a same-sex partner to be bisexual. These queerbait-and-switch marriages are so insulting. No… they’re agonizing. They belittle both my bisexuality and my opposite-gender marriage. I didn’t marry my husband because he was a man; I married him because I loved him. We don’t “prove” our sexual orientation by having sex with the “right” people. By that logic, all virgins must be considered of ambiguous sexuality because “how can they know if they’ve never tried it?”
But we do know. It might take a while to figure it out, and that’s okay. Some LGBTQA+ people never, ever come out, and that’s okay, too. I see you. You’re real. Your sexuality and gender-identity is up to you to decide, and how you choose to express it is up to you, too.
Actions aren’t always attraction.
Sexuality is complex, but people are inherently simple. Mostly, we want to be loved. We want to belong somewhere. We want family. We will make all kinds of sacrifices to secure those three things, and sometimes it doesn’t feel like a sacrifice at all. Gay men marry cis-women, and usually they really love them. They may have children together. Some Ace people choose to have sex with their partners. Poly people might choose physical monogamy as a concession to their partner’s needs. Trans people put off coming out because they fear hurting their friends and families. Judging people for how and with whom they find love and security isn’t productive. Gender identity is personal. Sexuality is personal. Sex and partnership are about a lot more than who we find attractive.
Allowing a character to be bisexual on-screen, even and perhaps especially in the context of an opposite-gender marriage, is about acknowledging that complexity. John Watson can be in love Sherlock Holmes, and still marry Mary Morstan. Ruth Jamision can marry a man and bear his child, and still want Idgie Threadgoode at the end of the story. It’s about representation, yes, and that matters a lot to me. But it’s also about love. Love is love is love, isn’t it? I desperately wish the media would stop using marriages like mine to argue for the opposite.
We know from research that, on balance, bisexuality is more common than homosexuality among self-reporting LGBTQA+ people. I can tell you, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that bisexuality is vastly underreported. The pressure to align with one end of the spectrum or the other is intense. I’m not the smartest or the most educated person to tackle this topic in the last ten years, but here are a few good resources:
Why Are We Still Negating Bisexuality in Television?
BISEXUALITY IN THE MEDIA: WHERE ARE THE BISEXUALS ON TV?
Erasure of Bisexuality by GLAAD
How Many People are Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender?
Sexual Behavior, Sexual Attraction, and Sexual Identity in the United States: Data From the 2006–2008 National Survey of Family Growth
Take care of yourselves, my loves. Thanks for reading. You’re always welcome here.
(Your picture was not posted)
