The In-Between Of Queer Spaces

So many of us are engaging in conversations these days about our identities. We want to be recognized for who we see ourselves as and today, a particular point that has often been a shadow in my life was brought up so I decided to tackle it head on here.

I am a bisexual Latina cis-gendered woman. However, I am married to a straight man and I “appear” white. I often feel I have to virtually scream some of these defining aspects of my identity to be heard because so many assume I’m now straight because I married a man or that my heritage as a Latina is invalid because I look “white,” whatever that really means. Do I acknowledge some privilege because I can “pass” as white? Yes, I acknowledge it may have made my life easier. It doesn’t mean that I haven’t faced adversity.

Life as a bisexual woman has always been an interesting space to exist in though. Cis-gendered straight men typically consider bisexual women a circus act to watch, often on demand. I cannot even count the number of times straight men have indicated wanting to watch me with another woman. While I am not adverse to group activities of a sexual nature, it still can become tiresome to be considered the main attraction in someone else’s fantasy, particularly when the other person has never been asked to be a part of my sexual life in any manner.

On the other hand, when entering lesbian dominant spaces, I suddenly have to prove just how gay I am. I don’t even know how to do that, but I am often made to feel on the outside of the lesbian community because I don’t have a female significant other. At the moment, my appearance helps with the acceptance, since I chopped off my hair, drive a Subaru, and keep my nails short. Yes, these are outward physical indicators of stereotypical lesbians. That’s not why I did any of these things, but they’ve helped my acceptance in some ways.

There is also a misnomer that bisexuals are inherently promiscuous or “greedy.” “Why don’t we just pick one?” is a question often asked of bisexuals. Well, just because our dating pool may be larger doesn’t mean any of us are any more promiscuous than the average straight or gay person. Bisexual people are just as likely to be monogamous or polyamorous as anyone else in society. Also, just because someone is bisexual doesn’t mean they are interested in YOU. You know those people- the ones who think that anyone interested in the same sex is automatically interested in everyone of the same sex. This is often a sentiment expressed by overweight white guys who can’t get any dates, much less from an attractive bi or gay man. That homophobic thought process is the same that assumes bisexual men or women are more likely to cheat or to be open to anything sexually. It just isn’t the case. I am extremely selective about who I take for a lover, man or woman.

All this is to say, being a bisexual woman is difficult in ways that being gay or lesbian isn’t. I’ll go further and say being a bisexual man is even more difficult, as there is rampant toxic masculinity that shames bisexual men- though this is a story I will leave to my bisexual brothers, a couple of who have been some of the greatest loves of my life. Yet this isn’t to say that being any part of the LGBTQ+ community is easy. Just different. I’ve never really faced the questions of whether I am actually a lesbian but confused though I have faced having to explain that I remain bi despite being married to a straight man. My sexuality isn’t defined by who I date or marry or sleep with in the moment. I love people. I fall in love with people, with their particular bodies and personalities. I’m not hemmed in by whether there’s a vagina or cock. That’s just part of who I am. It certainly isn’t the most important or the most interesting thing about me. Not by far.

Is there a solution to any of this? We have to keep speaking about it. We have to keep being open about it. Sexual fluidity has always been in existence, no matter what the uneducated try to convince themselves of. The same is true of gender fluidity, but since I identify as the sex I was born with, I won’t speak to that experience. It is a story that doesn’t belong to me.

I have been lucky in the last few months to find a community that is inclusive. We are a group concerned about the usage of language, of creating a safe space for those who may otherwise not have many safe public spaces, and we support each other on our journeys forward, even though most of us have very different journeys. The Denver Women’s Chorus has become a space for me to be comfortable as a bisexual woman, though at public events the fact that I have a husband is a cause for mild confusion to some. That’s okay. I don’t mind speaking up about my truth.