The Labeler is Broken, Jerry

Cover art: Maya Risch

“You’ve got a 50% greater chance of getting a date on a Saturday night,” said my dad, the permanent creases in his forehead easing a little, gapped teeth showing.

Hey there. I’m Grace. I came out to my parents about two years ago. It was something that felt natural; my family is vocal by nature. If someone in my family feels a certain way, or has an opinion, they’re guaranteed to vocalize it at some point. So, the first time I had a crush on a girl -- a real, genuine, all-consuming crush -- it naturally slipped out. (In retrospect, damn. Those were some embarrassing years. I thought I was subtle… She knew.) I’m lucky. Genuinely lucky. My parents have no prejudice against homosexuality. Both of them told me that, as long as whoever I date or settle down with someday loves me, they don’t care. So, because it’s pride month and I don’t have to worry about my parents hating me for talking about this aspect of myself, I wanted to take a pause and just talk about some things. Ramble time, baby!

So, I suppose the first logical starting place is the title. I use the word “bisexual” to describe my sexuality when people ask, but honestly? It’s not entirely accurate. After all, it only refers to men and women. If I liked, loved someone, it wouldn’t matter to me how they identified themselves, so pansexual would technically fit here. The reason I don’t use it? I get exhausted by labels. I get confused by the subdivisions of identities and the laundry list of labels in the LGBT+ acronyms. It makes my head hurt. Do I necessarily need to label every aspect of my sexuality? It’s pointless to me. Some people use bisexual, some people use pansexual. Some titles broadly overlap but the distinction matters to some people, and that’s okay. For me, bisexual simplifies the gist of my general attraction, but I could fall in love with anyone, regardless of their gender identity. In the queer community, some people put a massive emphasis on what they identify as, but it’s not a bad thing if you’re someone, like me, who chooses to be vague. 

(Disclaimer: I’ve come to understand some people dislike using the word queer, associating it with its old, pejorative definition. I use the reclaimed definition of queer: an umbrella term for sexual/gender minorities.)

With that out of the way… what’s up with the weirdass stigmas surrounding bisexual people? Last year, I briefly dated a guy who I’d been friends with for a while, but long before him, I’d had a heavy, two-year long crush on a very much not-a-dude classmate at school. Anyways, this guy and I very suddenly started dating. It was my first relationship. I didn’t know dating etiquette, and I had a tough time differentiating between liking someone platonically and liking them romantically. So, I decided to try a relationship out, why the hell not, and eventually came to the awkward realization that I didn’t like him like that, we had little in common, and that maybe I wasn’t ready to date someone yet. I was a little rash, I’ll admit. Also, hey, maybe don’t share things two people talk about with your buddies? You know, for the sake of both common decency and individual boundaries? Sheesh. (No smoke, man, but keep some things to yourself? For your future partner’s sake. WTF dude? Also, that whole thing where you had some weird bro-code preventing you from telling me the names of your friends who were posting racist, homophobic, and generally rude comments on early OTR entries? Like, okay, let boys be boys, troll a creative project some girls poured their hearts into. More of a commentary on y’all.) I’m mostly thankful for the experience of dating someone, though. It was awkward but friendly. None of that weird post-dating animosity stuff up in here, but we haven’t spoken since, which is tell-tale in itself. I know what I like now.

Well, anyways, during that period of time, I remember this discussion my mom and I had. It must’ve been a day in late spring, likely on the weekend, likely sometime in the mid-afternoon. My mom and I were both making our first meal of the day, steps quietly stamping on the sedona orange saltillo tiles as we danced around each other, the cramped kitchen ritual. We were talking about said first relationship of mine, the whole ‘he’s a nice guy’ thing. She said something to me along the lines of, “So what was with that whole bisexual phase?” I was kind of stunned for a second, pausing before responding with a confused, “Well, I’m still bisexual? What do you mean by that?” She brought up how I’d had that long period of time where I had crushed on that girl mentioned prior.

Yes, dear reader, she equated me dating a guy to me being straight.

I was sitting there, still perplexed, before clarifying, “Well, hey, you know, I’m still bisexual?” The conversation continued on, just as uncomfortable as you might think, until it reached this fun crescendo:

“Suppose you settle down with a man one day. Does that mean that if you fall in love with a woman, you’ll divorce him and marry her?” Shit had me rolling. So, butter wouldn’t melt in my mouth, I sweetly asked, “Hey, mom, you find other guys besides dad attractive, right?” Affirmative. “Okay, so does that mean that you’d divorce dad just to fuck them?” She got indignant, raising her voice, affronted, until I pointed out that she made the exact same generalization for me.

So, to clarify for anyone who thinks in a similar vein to her: bisexuality does not equate to an increased likelihood of cheating. Come on. The term literally just means that sex isn’t a deciding factor in whether I choose to date someone. I’m capable of dating anyone, falling in love with anyone, regardless of sex. I remember hearing, “But why can’t you just pick a side?”

It’s not a matter of picking a side, genius. 

Being bisexual simply means that you could hypothetically see a man or a woman and think, “Oh! That person is attractive! I could date them! I might marry them!” I could see future Grace married to a man or a woman. Hell, I could see future Grace married to someone who doesn’t strictly define themselves as either of those things. For me, at least, it essentially boils down to whether I click with someone. Do I enjoy being around them? Am I comfortable around them? Do I find them attractive? Being bisexual is not an indicator of my lack of faithfulness to a hypothetical partner and it is most definitely not a phase.

I am not a phase.

Happy pride month.

your unapologetically queer friend,

grace. (: