Saturday, 21 July 2012
I have a great relationship with my mother, and I have not let this one thing get between us. She just ignores it and I let her; I haven't wanted to confront her, because she's the one with the issue, and I feel as the child that it should not be my job to bring up stuff to deal with. So I've just never really known what my mother feels about it. I get the impression she would rather I was straight, or at least end up marrying a guy. I think she tries to forget about it, and when it gets briefly mentioned in other conversations, she goes very tight lipped about it.
But yesterday, we were talking about weddings, and I said "I'm not set on having a big wedding, but if I end up marring a woman, if she wants a big wedding, I'll give it to her." We were predicting whether my brother or I would have the bigger wedding.
My mother picked up on the 'if I marry a woman' bit, and didn't say anything in particular, but it made me really fed up. After all this back and forth on same-sex marriage, and my frustration at all that, I could not be bothered to let this lie any longer.
So I said "Yeah, a woman. You know this, it's a 50% chance it'll be a woman."
She nodded non-committedly.
We talked briefly about weddings some more, then I asked "Does [my brother] know I'm bisexual? I've never bothered to tell him. Have you?"
She said he picked it up off my Twitter account, so that's one mystery solved.
"I was never worried about him. I was worried about you though," I said.
"I know, I realised because you told Dad first," she replied.
"You made me cry you know," I continued, "before you knew, with things you said."
"Oh no, I'm sorry."
"Yeah, you once said 'but it's not natural, is it?' and I cried a lot at that."
"Oh I'm sorry."
So I got a few things off my chest, but she was not very forthcoming. I still don't know how she feels about it, and what she thinks. I just wish she'd be honest with me; I can't deal with the unknown.
I just don't know where she's at, which means I don't know what to do. She wants to support me unconditionally, which is why I think she doesn't tell me; my guess is she really doesn't like it, but doesn't want to say that to me.
But I don't want that! Even if it causes problems between us, at least out relationship will be honest, rather than this false thing we have going where she pretends everything's fine.
I might talk to my dad about it, on his own. He might have some insight, and luckily, he is fully down with the queers.
Sunday, 15 July 2012
She's on my course at college, and she is incredible. Physical: Pretty in an exotic way, not conventional, sexy as hell with lots of curves (the way I like my women), wavy long light brown hair, Danish accent, graceful with purpose. Person: Everyone loves her, it is nigh on impossible not to get on with her; gay; bubbly, giggly; competent, strong, intelligent, practical; overall indescribably attractive.
I thought she was straight when I met her - the gaydar didn't ping and she didn't come out to many people on the course for a long time. But I knew I was attracted to her. Now, I don't know about you, but the only times I've ever been attracted to women I think are straight generally work out that I'm wrong. But the 'door' (as I refer to it) stayed dutifully closed. Since the first time I fell in love with a woman when I thought she was straight, I am able to stop it happening again. I stop any feelings going being 'being initially attracted'. It's a subconscious mechanism to prevent the pain of unrequited love, a tool in my psychological arsenal that I thank God for.
But even another friend on the course mentioned they thought I fancied her even at that stage, when I first met her in the autumn. On learning of her queerness after Easter, the door swung open. But I was a coward, I flirted a little but always failed to make a move. I complained about this on the last night of the year, to a good friend in the Leavers who happens to be a lesbian, and she urged me on. We devised a line to use were I to pluck up the guts.
Later, we're dancing on the dance floor in the student bar, and I am filled with sudden fearlessness. I tap her on the shoulder, and lean in to shout that I'd like to talk to her. We wend our way through the crowd to a quieter stop near the bar. I put my hands round those delicious hips, and say (in reference to a point of conversation earlier in the day)
Tuesday, 10 July 2012
If you don't read 'Bisexual Wombat', you should.
The more I thought about it, the more unsure I grew about whether I agree with you or not. It reminds me of the whole discussion at the moment about the queer culture assimilating hetero-normative behaviour, brought out by the UK government consultation on equal marriage.
Some think that we're in danger of being sucked into majority culture and losing all identity as a minority.
And I agree with not wanting that. I don't think we should go back to the times of keeping ourselves separate, but we do need to maintain our own unique brand as it's own entity, in harmony with everyone else but not absorbed by it. Queer folk need a community and a platform to be queer together, and celebrate being queer. This is where people need to care, to be interested - not ignore sexuality; they would not try and blank being told about any other part of a personality or lifestyle. It's an intrinsic part of our lives - who we fall in love with is different to the majority - and it should not be ignored; if it doesn't matter that we're queer, why should we bother celebrating?
However, I do not want a big fuss made. I know that's not what you mean, but I still blanch a little - it feels weird to disagree with 'I don't want people to care about sexuality'. Whilst I want to be acknowledged as a bisexual, and have people in my life embrace it consciously and enthusiastically; and whilst it is part of my identity - it does not define me. I want people to be comfortable maintaining a view of me that includes my sexuality, but is not dominated by it.
I want people to care, I agree with that. But it makes me wince to say it; I feel like I'm advocating making a hullaballoo and shoving it in people's faces "I'm bi, and I don't care what the f**k you think!" And this is where my dilemma is - I want to agree that it should matter, but I don't want people to care about it in particular, just care because it's part of me, and they care about me.
But, minority sexualities need awareness and consideration, and you're right, they definitely do not need flippancy.
I don't know if I'm making sense, to you or to myself. I agree that it should not be treated as heterosexuality is, without notice or appreciation - it is a minority, and therefore special, and should be duly noted.
But I don't want more than note. But I do want something.
Okay, so overall, I think we're on the same page. You're not advocating anything extreme, just helping the straight people get it right. We have to fight to be accepted and at the same time fight to maintain a status as a definite whole, and that's a bloody tricky line to tread, queer or straight.
I'm glad you made me think about it, because I hadn't before. Thank you.
Esme T xx
I met up with the reps from St James' and we got ourselves to Baker Street. After losing and finding each other again on the way there, we also found the purple-tshirt clad Christians in the huge line along the street ready to parade. We had the tshirts, and a banner, and leaflets; I got given a rainbow pin, and I bought snacks for the day, and there were free bottles of VitaminWater from the sponsors, and the rain held off for a while.
The bisexual group was behind us, which made me glad, but I didn't speak to anyone except my friends I knew already. Looking back, I'm sad I didn't. I will improve upon my next Pride. I've also been talking to others in the Christian group, and we also need to improve next year with more glitter, pazzazz, and just a but more gay :-P We looked too dour to be in a gay parade, so we must do something about it.
We enjoyed looking all around while we waited to set off. There were lots of fabulous drag queens, and some other men in very revealing, saucy outfits (lovely jubbly) walking past, as well as lots of excited, less glittery people like me. After over an hour's wait, we finally set off, and marched all the way up Baker St. That was quietest part of the route, apart from the Gay Men's Chorus in front of us. Very quickly, I had read all the signs within eye line, my favourite being the Quakers'. One side had the four fundamentals of Quakerism - peace, simplicity, equality and truth. The other side went on to add love, hope, spirit, and cake! Which thought was a great addition.
It was overwhelming, trying to contemplate what I was part of, and it only really hit me when we got to Oxford St, and it was packed with people lining the route. I felt fit to burst when I took a turn carrying the banner; it was moving to shout out to the world "I am proud of who I am!" and to feel the response "We love you for it!" come right back. So much support, and fun, it was an emotional and political festival.
Parading was a very satisfying way of celebrating queers, demonstrating my support and inclusion, and having a laugh.Yeah it rained later, but no one cared!
I was sad not to be able to enjoy the festivities in Trafalgar Sq; a couple of friends showed up at the end of the parade, and we all enjoyed tea and cake in SJP's garden. C and I got into some deep conversation about sexuality and faith and before we knew it, everyone was leaving to attend the service - the World Pride service at Bloomsbury Baptist. It was a moving and affirming experience, which I enjoyed even though the baptist worship style is not really my thing.
It is always wonderful to share an experience with people who believe as you do, have gone through similar experiences, and to know that they are there to befriend you, help you, support you, no matter what, because they believe in you and who you are, and that you love them and support them in return. Pride really is about being proud, together - it's a way of showing each other, and the world, that we love each other, and know ourselves to be good people.
There is so much good about being queer; nothing against straight people, and I know there are a lot of cons in this world, but I am so glad to be queer. It's not a choice, and I was lucky enough to get the golden, glittery ticket with feather trim.
Bisexual and Proud, bitches! :-P I love you all.
Friday, 6 July 2012
Short post just to alert one and all that this blog is branching out.
Like what you read here? Follow me on Twitter @iamabisexual for small snippets and news (stuff that does not merit a whole blog post)
Don't worry though, this blog will still keep going strong! I'm loving it.
Thursday, 5 July 2012
I'm training in technical theatre, so after the last performance of a show yesterday evening, cast and crew went out. Had drinks with other techies, then L, B and I went to the bar where the actors were at. Got talking to the actress S at the bar, and behold, we find we are one lesbian (L), one bisexual-borderline-lesbian (B), one bisexual (yours truly), and one pansexual (S)! Had know idea S was not straight, but then, I may have been prejudiced by a bad first impression.
Anyway, we had a real networking session, and it felt very pally, and community-y. Poor S was so happy to find other queer girls; I felt wonderful being able to welcome her into the communal element of her sexuality. I also flirted with her a lot, though I had no intentions on her (I'm in that stage of liking someone else that no one has a chance). Fortunately, I don't think she had any intentions on me either; her attention was slightly slanted in B's direction, odd seeing as B was the one in the group who wasn't single.
Thought I'd share my gay night on here. It's the small things that make life, and so it is the small things that make bisexuality. It's not all about the big issues; it's about nights staying up til the early hours and drinking too much in a group of giggling gay gals.
I was glad that a nice night relaxing with friends, colleagues, and new friends (ie the actors) was enhanced by queer fun. It was easy, and simple, and lovely.
Just wish I had the courage to ask out the girl I like.
News on my unrequited love, and World Pride this weekend (YAY) coming soon!
Tuesday, 3 July 2012
It was an incredible piece of theatre - I can tell you that as a professional-in-training for the industry. And it was a very affirming night for me as a bisexual. There was go-go dancing to begin with, by some very talented and very gay dancers (m&f), then Penny Arcade bounced onstage and brought with her a huge and wonderful personality and stage presence.
She did stand up, sketches, monologues, invited the audience to dance, strolled around the audience in the dark. It was hilarious, fun, camp, and sometimes very emotionally stirring. She covered difficult topics with either pizazz, comedy, or hard hitting seriousness, and the mix still made a cohesive whole.
It was very much a show for a queer audience, though of course F was not the only straight person in the room, and she really enjoyed it too. But her experience, I suspect, was a lot less deeply moving than mine. I felt like I connected with Penny and the show; I could taste the sense of community, and belonging. I felt so good about myself, and my sexuality, and also a really strong compulsion to uphold the history that queers have. I was downright disappointed in myself when Penny was exclaiming that the younger generations of LGBT are unaware of their history, and trying too hard to fit into the straight world, rather than shaping the straight world to fit us.
I recommend it in entirety. I shall follow Penny with interest.
Sunday, 1 July 2012
That one person. To talk to, to give life a cohesive line. Coming apart at the seams, I have nothing to hold me together. I am but fragments, a jigsaw for someone to put together.
Friends are the right people in context, family are what I need sometimes, I can go to my priest, my tutor, my pen friend, but there are moments...moments when no one is right. Where the problem is not part of my life but all of my life, and there is no one who is part of my whole life.
The calling out of my soul does not seek gender. The right person is the one to ease the emptiness. Why is that so difficult for some people to understand?