It used to be that only lesbians wore dungarees
On coming out and staying in
“I like your dungarees,” my mum said, “it used to be that only lesbians wore dungarees.”
“Well, I’m bisexual?”
“Are you really? Well that’s alright then.”
So goes my most frequently told coming out story. It’s a good one, but of course it’s all a bit more complicated than that, isn’t it? As I was reminded at an amazing storytelling event last week (see resources at the end for details), we never really stop coming out.
I meant to post this last week but I’ve been editing and re-editing, feeling cynical about it all.
It’s probably because I’ve got a background in brand development that my creative brain takes anything esoteric and tries to polish it up into something marketable. That’s probably why, even when considering something as deeply personal as my sexual identity, I’ve been pushing myself to write this essay for
🏳️🌈🌟🏳️⚧️PRIDE🩷💛🩵
and am giving it a nice, pithy, click baiting title.
But shouldn’t I go easy on myself here? Queer people are being marginalised, attacked, abused and criminalised. Isn’t it valuable – brave, even – to publicly post about how I can be physically and emotionally attracted to anyone regardless of their gender identity?
Maybe. But here’s what I’m warring with: I’m straight presenting. I met my husband when I was 22 and have been in a monogamous relationship with him ever since. And before I met him, I was never openly with any of my female partners.
Some of my friends and even some of my family members knew that I had been with women, but I’d label it “experimenting” or even (eugh) bring it up to get male attention, all “I’ve slept with a woman, isn’t that hot?”
Still, before my current relationship began I was on the precipice of maybe, maybe, being more open about my preferences. For starters, I was going out to gay clubs in London with my braver, beautiful, newly out friend. Yes we jokingly referred to ourselves as “Gays against Gays” and made fun of our own community, but that internalised/externalised homophobia was dissipating.
Obama was president. Rainbow-washing was at its peak. Straight people were starting to watch RuPaul’s Drag Race. I’d recently downloaded Tinder and matched with a woman. We’d even flirted a bit.
But first, I had a date with some guy named Phil…
…it went well.
Which means I’ve never had to introduce a female or non-binary partner to a parent or grandparent. I’ve never had someone double-take when I take my husband’s hand. I’ve never had to worry that the country I’m living in will decide that our love isn’t allowed, that it’s unnatural, shameful, hateful. No one has ever pointed at this love of mine and said it goes against their fundamental moral beliefs.
So am I gay enough? Is it okay for me to identify as queer when day-to-day, I rarely have to come out? If I’m allowed to love the person I love romantically without penalisation, without hate or fear or insult, am I adopting an identity that doesn’t belong to me?
The simple answer is I’m queer, I’m here and I just need to get over myself. I feel the most at home and most myself in LGBTQ+ spaces, around LGBTQ+ people. It shouldn’t be that queerness is tantamount to oppression, so why am I beating myself up for not being discriminated against?
I’m doing nobody any favours by splitting hairs about my lifestyle, my beloved and his immaculate bi wife energy (although really the right term for me is pan). Being out while married to a man makes it so much safer for me, and I’m afforded luxuries in how I love and live my life that so many of my queer siblings do not get the basic dignity of enjoying. Feeling guilty doesn’t fix that. Getting out and fighting the good fight does.
So if you’re reading this, and you’re bi or pan or an ally and handwringing like me, or you’re on the retro biphobia train do yourself a favour and think about how love is love is love is love.
Okay so not really: we all love differently, and I don’t want to ignore the versatility of love, sex and romance within queer communities … but let me gloss over it for now to make my hideously sincere and heartfelt point:
Consensual love in and of itself is worth fighting for, regardless of who it’s for and how others perceive it. If my husband came out as gay, or trans, or non-binary, or poly or demi or ace, I wouldn’t love him any less. Our love would change and evolve to fit our new relationship, sure, but I am confident enough in our bond to say that the added pressure of societal views on gender and sexuality wouldn’t break it (not saying our perfect soulbondedness is impossible to break up, but it’s certainly flexible enough to bend).
And if I hadn’t met Phil, I believe that I could have found my way to a love of similar strength, a romance just as unbreakable with someone else – regardless of their gender. So rather than succumbing to panic, I’m going to take my het-presenting privilege and use it to barrel roll through homophobia and transphobia and all that other hate. I don’t have to worry too much about how I’m perceived, or fight that hard to live a happy and authentic life. Do you know what that means? I’ve got energy to spare. So tag me in, coach: let’s protect the dolls, the doll house, the whole doll town.
Happy pride, all.
Resources
Get in loser, we’re fighting heteronormative white-dominant patriarchal structures.
The event I referenced earlier was a night of performing stories celebrating Queer Joy hosted by
for Porty Pride. You can find snippets of my performance here. The evening also featured performances by the brilliant Christina, the inspiring Lucia August and the glorious Naomi Head of fame. Members of the audience were also welcomed up for open mic spots, which were fantastic. So many positive adjectives here but seriously, 10/10 would recommend.A small selection of good things to watch/read/follow/support in no particular order:
Pink News: through creating content and connections that entertain, inform and inspire we empower generations to embrace and shape the future - making the world a gayer place.
Mermaids: providing services directly to trans children and young people, to families, and work to educate and inform professionals and organisations who want to be part of a society where trans children and young people are safe, included and empowered to be their best selves.
Lavender Menace: a Community Interest Company established to promote and benefit the lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, non-binary, queer, intersex, asexual (LGBTQIA+) community and their allies. Lavender Menace Queer Books Archive works to create and maintain a free and welcoming community archive space for reading, research, and socialising.
Them: in-depth storytelling, from the fight for LGBTQ+ rights to intimate profiles of queer cultural vanguards. A platform for all of the bold, stylish, and rebellious ways that LGBTQ+ people are reshaping our world every day.
Jessica Out of the Closet: a YouTuber, author, and advocate for LGBTQ+ rights and disability representation. Living with HNPP, Ehlers-Danlos Syndrome, and deafness, she uses her platform to raise awareness while spreading positivity.
Just Like Us: provides primary and secondary schools with free LGBT+ inclusive, educational resources.
Switchboard: the national LGBTQIA+ support line. For anyone, anywhere in the country (UK), at any point in their journey. They can discuss anything related to sexuality and gender identity. Whether it’s sexual health, relationships or just the way they’re feeling. This is their space – to explore, talk and be truly heard.
Tommy Bones’ Serving C!nt: for when you need a break from activism to revel in queerness.
Next week I’m planning to post the first in a series of essays I’m calling “The Empathy Toolkit”, starting with a look at how reading Torrey Peters’ Detransition, Baby, helped me become a better ally to my trans siblings. So…
…if you want to read that. And if you have thoughts/opinions/things to recommend please…
What a beautiful post! I feel so seen (although with two ex-husbands and not a current one 🤣) Thank you for sharing this 🤗
Happy pride, pal! A friend read this and wanted me to say how much she loved it, as a fellow bisexual married to a man. It’s an odd one isn’t it…the chances in life that lead you to a “straight” life when another set of chances could’ve given you a more visibly queer one. I’m bisexual and married a woman but dated many men before that. But I fell in love with my wife so my life is visibly pure gay. Queer experience is so varied innit!