Bi Visibility Day and why representation matters

First, happy Bi Visibility Day to my big bi+ “family.” Wherever you are, I hope you can take a moment to reflect and celebrate. You are real, you are valid, and you are not wrong or broken. You are every bit queer enough to belong, and you are not defined by who is in your life or your bed.

Second, I want to take some time to talk about representation, why it matters, and why it’s so hard to do. I’m looking at this from an author and reader perspective, but I’m sure some of what I say can be applied to other media. I’ll trust people in those fields to address it themselves.

Writing bi+ characters is a challenge. We don’t fit neatly into categories where we can simply be read as bi because of external characteristics. It’s comparatively simpler to write straight, gay, and lesbian characters. All one has to do is provide a relationship for them. It doesn’t even have to be a romantic story; give ’em a spouse or a partner, and you’re all set.

Heck, you don’t have to say that a character is straight in any way, even if they have no partner and no relationships are ever mentioned on page. Almost universally, people will read them as straight, no matter what your head canon is. And trust me, they will eat you for breakfast if years later, you tell them that character was gay all along. Everyone will be pissed off, gay and straight alike (I’m looking at you, J.K. Rowling).

If you want your character to be gay, literally all you have to do is give a passing mention of a same-gender partner or spouse. That will generally be interpreted as gay. Most people are pretty binary-thinking. You’ll get a few bi folk or our loved ones pondering if that character is bi, and a few who might still dismiss the character being gay, but it won’t be a majority.

Not so with bisexuality. Of course, it could be argued that any relationship might contain one or more bisexuals, and readers are free to interpret them as such. The problem with that is bisexuality isn’t usually assumed, for one thing, and for another, you can’t make readers see bisexuality by virtue of your sheer willpower.

Which leaves us with few options. Do we show them with multiple partners over time? Mention their relationship or sexual history? Give them a multi-gender threesome, another polyamorous configuration, or an open relationship? Show them waving a bi flag at Pride? Or do we just sit there and yell, “BISEXUAL!” into the void in hopes someone gets it?

The frustrating part is that people find ways to complain about any or all of the above. If you’re too subtle, people claim it’s not enough. If you’re too overt, you’re beating them over the head with it. If you show multiple relationships, over time or all at once, you’re trying to “prove” bisexuality.

And don’t even get me started on all the tropes: evil bisexuals; promiscuity (interpreted negatively and inherent to bisexuality); cheating on partners with someone of another gender; homophobic gay-for-you dressed up with lip service to appease bi folk; killing off gay and lesbian characters in order to pair a bi person with a hetero love interest. Those all mean that writers are forced, out of fear, not to deal with real-world things like bisexuals who happen to be jerks or people who enjoy having many partners or coming out late in life or the death of a partner and the complications of a new relationship.

I’ve heard it said over and over that we should “just write bisexuals like everyone else.” Well, no. Because there are things about being bisexual that are unique to us and can’t just be straight- or gay-washed away. Just like there are things about being gay or lesbian that can’t just mimic heterosexuality. Very few people understand that, and even fewer want to take risks with their books to show it.

Representation matters. The reason people get so mad about things like post-publication gay-stamping a character isn’t because they don’t believe it to be true. It’s because it’s infuriating not to see it on page when it’s clearly a valid possibility. People dial the volume up to ten on issues like whether or not Bert and Ernie* or Remus and Sirius or . . . those guys I can never remember from Supernatural (sorry, not a fan) are gay is because there’s not enough good rep of loving, healthy, long-term relationships. (Okay, spoilers, Remus and Sirius both end up dead, so maybe it’s better they weren’t written as gay. But it’s still a valid point, yeah?)

The same holds true of bisexuality. We just don’t get enough great rep of what it’s like to be a person who can fall in love, have sex, or both with people of more than one gender. It really isn’t identical to being gay or straight, and it isn’t defined by a relationship or a sex act. Sometimes the only thing we can do is make sure that something—anything—appears on page that clues us in that Thar Be Bisexu’ls Here.

So I will take “slutty” bisexuals and polyamorous bisexuals and bisexuals who remind us every other page that they like people of more than one gender. I’ll take the ones who whisper it in the dark or casually drop a mention when they come out to their partners. I’ll take on-page sex with people of different genders. I’ll take the ones who aren’t sure what word to use and the ones who didn’t realize there was a word for themselves and the ones who actively avoid labels even though their bisexuality is obvious. I’m happy to see confused bisexuals and bisexuals who are struggling with how to come out or what to do afterward. I want the ones who have different partners over the course of a series or multiple partners at once and the ones in straight- or gay-appearing relationships who have to navigate what that means for them and their partners.

And I will fight the hate-fueled tropes with everything I have. Because yes, it matters very much if you use bisexuality to indicate evil or as a tool of evil. It matters if the only bisexual characters you ever write are cheaters, liars, murderers, and general jerkfaces. Straight folks, confront both your homophobia and biphobia. Gay folks, please remember what it’s like when you can’t find enough good representation or only see people like you portrayed as horrible.

It matters. To my teenage self, who didn’t know the word bisexual applied to me. To my adult self, who needed to see people similar to me when I was newly out. To the young person who needs to see their sexuality normalized and not absorbed into straight or gay. To the adult courageously coming out after many years of internal struggle. To the ally who wants to know how to support us better. To our partners who need to see something beyond the tropes painting us as people who will hurt them.

Go forth, celebrate the day, and BE VISIBLE!

*Bert and Ernie are puppets on a preschool show, and I think it would be better for a human couple to be same-gender, like Susan and Gordon or Maria and Luis were. And do not come at me with any “What about Kermit and Miss Piggy” or Gonzo and whatever the chicken’s name is. Piggy, Gonzo, and the chicken weren’t on Sesame Street, and The Muppet Show was for adults. The end, go away with this arguing about freaking children’s show puppets and their possibly homophobic creators.