#but it’s very difficult to claim she is monosexual

[hacash]

gonna start saying that eloise bridgerton is a bisexual lesbian and see how long it takes for someone to yell at me

[homoerotic-ads]

asexuality is not an ‘internet identity’, a fad, or fake.

as an asexual person myself, it’s difficult to deal with feeling both under-represented and excluded, both in cishet society AND lgbtq+ circles. the general conception regarding asexuality, in my experience, is that it’s a new identity, specifically a ‘tumblr snowflake’ identity, it’s not real, it’s a medical condition, etc etc. not only is this perspective genuinely hurtful and damaging, it’s just plain wrong. 

asexuality’s history can be hard to pin down, exactly, outside of writings specifically about it because it’s difficult to write about an absence of something (in this case sexual encounters/attraction) rather than the presence of it. however, the concept has existed longer than our modern terms for it, as is the case with all other lgbtq+ identities. 

unfortunately, I’m going to be speaking from an especially western standpoint, because I myself was born and raised in the western hemisphere and the sources I’m currently privy to are western. 

before any terminology was coined, 17th century author and poet Catherine Bernard wrote various works that have since been read as relating to asexuality. her views of love, sex, marriage, and personal affairs (or lack thereof) speak to the asexual experience. here’s an article about her and her works for more information. 

‘monosexual’ was a term coined in 1869 by Karl-Maria Kertbeny, the same man who coined the terms ‘homosexual’ and ‘heterosexual’ (all 3 in the same pamphlet, actually!). ‘monosexual’ refers to people who only masturbate, rather than have sexual encounters, the implication there being that monosexuals have no interest in sex/feel no need for it. (it’s a myth that asexual people don’t masturbate--some do, some don’t. asexual people have fully functioning equipment, and are perfectly capable of having and even enjoying orgasms. remember that stimulation of sexual organs is not the same thing as feeling attraction). 

Kertbeny was a pretty cool dude, actually, or at least he was very progressive for his time regarding sexuality. he wrote that gay men were not inherently effeminate, that homosexuality was inborn and unchangeable, and that homosexuality had a long, long history, and many people they (and we) consider historical heroes were gay. Kertbeny was inspired to advocate for lgbtq+ people by a friend of his who had committed suicide after being blackmailed by an extortionist for his homosexuality.

in 1896 german sexologist Magnus Hirschfeld wrote the pamphlet Sappho und Sokrates, which discussed homosexual love and attraction, and referenced those who don’t feel sexual attraction. it is worth mentioning that he unfortunately connected asexuality with sexual anesthesia, which is the usually psychogenic condition that causes an absence of normal or expected sensations during sexual activity, as in, you have intercourse but can’t physically feel the stimulation. that is not what asexuality is. 

In 1907, Carl Schlegel, a german immigrant to the US and Presbyterian minister wrote a speech advocating for lgbtq+ equality, and mentions asexuality by name: “Let the same laws for all the intermediate stages of sexual life: the homosexuals, heterosexuals, bisexuals, asexuals, be legal as they are now in existence for the heterosexuals[...]” Schlegel is considered one of the first modern gay activists in the US. 

coming back to Magnus Hirschfeld, he adopted the term asexual in his 1920 work, The Role of Homosexual Men and Women in Society, writing: “we must (if this were possible) describe” philosophers like Immanuel Kant “as being asexual.”

since its development in 1948, the Kinsey Scale has an X category for those who don’t experience sexual attraction. 

in the 1960s, the magazine Transvestia (founded by transwoman Virginia Prince in 1960, and ran from 1960-1980) published an article that claimed that, while most trans people “are entirely heterosexual,” “some are also asexual.” in 1965 the same magazine published the “A-Sexual Range”--sort of an early prototype for the modern asexual spectrum--which stated “There are persons who simply have a very low libido—no sex drive to speak of.”

in 1969 Anton Szandor LeVey, founder of the Church of Satan, wrote in his book The Satanic Bible that “Satanism condones any type of sexual activity which properly satisfies your individual desires – be it heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, or even asexual.” 

in 1970 the Philadelphia, PA newspaper, Gay Dealer, published an article on trans liberation, saying that it “includes transvestites, transsexuals, and hermaphrodites of any sexual manifestation and of all sexes—heterosexual, homosexual, bisexual, and asexual.”

in 1972, The Asexual Manifesto was published by the New York Radical Feminists. although the term asexual is used, it is a radfem publication so bear that in mind and be cautious in reading it. 

at a feminist conference in 1973, female and nonbinary attendees were asked to wear a label identifying themselves as one of the following: “Straight, Lesbian, Gay, Butch, Femm, Asexual, Anti-sexual, ?, other, etc.”

in the same year, activists at a conference at Barnard college provided labels for lgbtq+ identities. 

in 1974, David Bowie discussed asexuality in Rolling Stones magazine. 

in 1977, Myra Johnson wrote one of the first academic papers about asexuality for the book The Sexually Oppressed. she described asexuality as a complete lack of sexual attraction, which is the definition we generally use today!

if you’ve read all the way down here, and needed some convincing, I hope you’re getting the picture. asexuality is a long standing, clearly defined community, with its first term (monosexual) coined alongside homosexual and heterosexual. we have been recognized, by name, for nearly 200 years, and the concept/feeling has existed long before that. asexuality is not a disease, a medical condition, an internet fad, or a joke. asexuals experience discrimination, lack of representation, and a the general misunderstanding that other sexual minorities experience. asexuality has not been institutionally discriminated against because, as previously said, you can’t really prove or prosecute an absence in the same way one can a presence. however, in 2015, Russia banned people with “disorders of sexual preference” from obtaining drivers’ licenses, and the list included asexuals. 

this post is not nearly an exhaustive list of asexual history. if you want/need more information on asexuality, I’d recommend @historicallyace​, the Asexual Visibility and Education Network, the Asexual Census, and this great article on cracked.com about general ace experiences. 

if anyone reading this post has more info and sources, please add them!

happy reading!

[gettin-bi-bi-bi]

this is probably a very stupid question, but i dont know where else to ask it. for contaxt, i'm cis. so, gay tends to mean mlm (and sometimes wlw), and lesbian means wlw. what do nonbinary people who are only attracted to one gender use? is that one of the reasons people started using mlm and wlw, as well as because of us bi/pan people? i should also say as a bi/pan person the idea of not being attracted to someone because of their gender is a weird concept to me anyway

me again. also, i guess the term straight excludes nb people too? like, i just want the world, include our terminology, to be inclusive of nb people

Note: I am also cis and I do not want to speak over non-binary people and I don’t claim to be completely educated on that matter... so if anyone who sees this is nb and knows better then please let me know in the comments or send a message!

To clear a couple of things up first: mlm and wlw were created to unite the gay/lesbian and bisexual communities. Gay men and bi men have a lot of things in common and so do lesbians and bi women - thus the terms mlm/wlw to celebrate our common experience and also to support each other. ”Sapphic” is another term for wlw, I don’t know if there’s an equivalent for mlm.

If we’re being strict then monosexualities (straight and gay) would exclude nb people but the thing is: just by looking at someone you cannot always tell a person’s gender. Some nb people present like one of the binary genders. So if a straight women were to find herself attracted to someone she thinks is a man that person may just as well be a masc-aligned nb person or an nb person who is closeted and cannot present themselves in the way they wish to. I would hope that any decent monosexual person who finds themselves falling for a non-binary person would educate themselves on non-binary genders and non-straight sexualities. I think that’s the least one can do to be accepting and supportive of the person they claim to love.

I think that nb people who are fem- or masc-aligned and only attracted to one gender or people presenting as that one gender would ‘’’’maybe’’’’ use terms like gay or straight. But I see how this will probably lead to confusion. I think that’s why a lot of nb people use “queer” because the whole concept of gender and labeling one’s sexuality based on gender can become difficult.

[insert elaborate argument for the use of the word “queer” as the most inclusive term for all non-straight sexualities as well as non-cis genders and any intersections between those!]

Tbh... I don’t know if I can give you a more solid answer so I will tag this accordingly and hope that there are some non-binary people willing to shed some light. Maybe there’s also some advice from nb people on how monosexual people can be more inclusive.

Maddie

[eventhorizonlarp-blog]

Gender, Sexuality, and Relationship Structures in the Galaxy

Before the Expansion Era, the six Homeworlds had developed remarkably different societies. Some, like Agerre were essentially monolithic, while others were more varied like the plethora of separate cultures of Gyr. These differences were reflected in a wide variety of genders and familial structures, as well as how cultures perceived sexuality and romance. With the cultural exchanges and clashes of the Expansion Era, it is not surprising that there are a multitude of different genders, sexualities, and relationships (GSR) in the Galaxy.

Overall, people view gender, sexuality, and relationships as being multifaceted, varied, and non-standardized. It is commonly accepted that there are numerous genders, and the most conservative cultures have three genders: male, female, and a third gender. The standard pronouns are gender neutral – they/them/theirs or ze/zem/zir*. Gender neutral pronouns are used for people whose pronouns are not known, and generally upon introduction people clarify if they use “she/her/hers” or “he/him/his”.

Sexuality is generally understood to be a spectrum of multiple preferences. Statistically, a minority of people are monosexual (attracted to only one gender). An even smaller percentage are asexual, although their distribution among the Homeworlds is notably varied.

"Feminine" and "masculine" have lost their coherency as terms since the Expansion Era, though the words still have some utility. While in some languages, equivalent words are related to the words for "female" and "male", in many Homeworlds the concepts are divorced from sex and gender. There are divergent definitions of masculine and feminine, but generally they are aesthetic qualities that can be noticed by people in a culture, if not explained. Although feminine and masculine are words used for a variety of personal traits, upon closer examination the words are most concretely applied to movements and speech patterns.**

*The spelling varies, but it is pronounced: zie/zem/zhir, not to be confused with the planet Zé.

**Out of Game Note: In the galaxy of Event Horizon, current notions of masculine and feminine are not applicable, as they are very specific to a culture and time period. However, we recognize that people will bring those concepts into game, and they can be helpful for thinking about how to play your character.

Agerre

The genders, sexualities, and relationships of Agerre are directly influenced by the need for population control, and the even distribution of limited resources. There are three main ways that Agerre has historically maintained population control. The first is contraception, which has been around in different forms for over a thousand years. The second is the Sunwalk, their coming-of-age ritual with an extremely high mortality rate. The third is the culture of sexuality among their teenagers. Teens are more likely to experiment romantically and sexually with the same sex. Although in adulthood there is a standard distribution, a minority of teens engage in heterosexual acts.

With contemporary contraception and robust sexual education, this practice is no longer necessary to control the population in Agerre’s cramped caves. However, it is a practice as old as Agerre’s first histories, and Agerrans view it as an inherent part of adolescent sexuality. Additionally, Agerre has the highest percentage of asexual (ace) and aromantic (aro) citizens.

Children are raised communally on Agerre, with various childcare and education work distributed among the adults. Agerran children consider their parents to be the adults who most directly raise them, which usually includes one biological parent. Siblings are similarly considered as the children they are raised with. When Agerrans part from their primary family, they often form sibling bonds with close comrades, whom they call "cousins."

Agerrans recognize three genders in their society--male, female, and third. The third gender is an umbrella gender that encompases Agerrans who transition socially or medically from their birth sex, as well as those with fluid gender or no gender. Statistically, the majority of Agerrans feel neutrally towards their birth sex and do not have a strong sense of gender.

Agerrans have a very straightforward, unromantic, and accepting view of GSRs, an attitude that is known to ruffle feathers. A famous anecdote is The Blackmailing of Representative Komir, in which a Baryosi Representative thought they had incriminating information of Komir's "affairs,"  which by Agerran standards was entirely unremarkably. When released, the intended scandal backfired spectacularly, to the amusement of all Agerre and (privately) half of the UAW. Numerous romance books have been written about the incident.

Baryos

Baryos has always been a culturally diverse planet. Unlike Gyr, whose small cultures squabbled for resources and had limited contact, the cultures of Baryos flourished on the rich, ecologically diverse planet. While there are a variety of GSRs across the planet, there are strong trends in the modern culture.

The Baryosi modern culture is one of planetary pride, and while it celebrates the diverse roots of the people, it looks towards the future. Many Baryosi view themselves as “post-gender” – they recognize the fluidity of biological sex, and believe there are no significant differences between “female” and “male”. The words “female” and “male” are losing popularity in exchange for chromosome markers XX, XY, XXY, etc. While they claim “post-gender” is advanced and accepting, some transgender and monosexual groups have leveled criticisms against it.

The “post-gender” mindset of course affects sexuality. As with the rest of the galaxy, most Baryosi are bisexual (“bi” meaning “same sex/gender” and “different sex/gender”). Few Baryosi label their sexuality, and monosexuals are viewed as having very strong preferences. In general, sex is a private subject discussed only among partners and friends.

The majority of Baryosi are monogamous, and families tend to have two parents, one of which is usually a biological parent.

Dor Len Sono

As a planet of Queendoms, it is perhaps not surprising that there is a higher-than-average percentage of Dor Len who are women who love women, as well as more than average transgender women. The female sex, womanhood, and femininity have historically been revered, and many religions revolve around these aspects.

What Dor Len consider to be "feminine" is wider and deeper than on other Homeworlds, in a way that many non-Dor Len find difficult to understand. On Dor Len Sono, the word generally translated as femininity carries connotations of moral and aesthetic excellence. There are numerous subtle words for types femininity in the languages, including ruthless-femininity, woven-femininity, and bright-femininity.

There is no direct word for masculinity in Dor Len language that encapsulates the same but opposite qualities as femininity. The closest equivalent word is often mistranslated as masculinity although it is closer to adjacent-femininity or balance-against-femininity. Men and nonbinary Dor Len are just as likely to have feminine qualities as women, and besides the Queens, can be leaders. People in high regard in society tend to be more feminine.

Gyr

Gyr was a planet of numerous small cultures that for a long time were isolated from each other. As such, there is not a common thread to weave between the different GSRs. One commonality is that the majority of Gyr cultures have large familial structures. The surviving population of Gyr are generations of space-farers and had contact with a multitude of cultures, so unlike their ancestors, modern Gyr have a flexible view of gender, sexuality, and relationships.

There are a few Gyr cultures of note that had quite different GSRs. One was an island of "all women" that intrigued Baryosi explorers. Another large island chain worshiped third gender individuals as deities, and when these gods danced together it was said to change currents and summon storms. Another ocean-faring culture commonly had triad relationships called the captain, the right hand, and the left hand.

Ottsalia

The home of Evos, the cultural center of the Galaxy, the garden of beautiful nightmares. Ottsalians value change and transformation, especially of oneself. Even before the first Evos, Ottsalia had a large transgender population. Although the animal gene splicing of Evos is not gender, it is worth noting as it can be a large part of a person's identity in a similar way. Although there is a huge variety of acceptable GSRs, Ottsalians are not as concerned with developing a perfect language to encompass them or labeling themselves.

Historically, adolescents experimented with gender presentation publicly. Currently they also experiment with non-permanent special effects makeup to simulate Evos. Relationship structures are varied, and it is fairly standard for Ottsalians to have multiple partners of varying levels of intensity. Relationships are often seen as just as fluid as genders and presentations, especially among young Ottsalians.

Zé

Of all the Homeworlds except perhaps Baryosi subcultures, Zé has the most hierarchal system of GSRs. For hundreds of years, minorities of gender and, even moreso, sexuality had their own caste-like roles in society. Women and men form the majority and share the same societal responsibilities on equal footing. They are thought to be the norm, and tend not to feel that their gender is a defining feature of themselves.

Among the Peakborn, there are many sub-castes defined by gender and sexuality. In the modern era, not everyone in these castes need to have the same gender or sexuality, but the echoes of that historical distinction remains a strong cultural element.

Peakborn trustwomen (women who love women) are trained to become military leaders. The training is gruelling, and often begins at the onset of adolescence. Peakborn twice-minded (trans women) are taken away from society and trained to become “oracles”. While in the past, oracles were seen as those who could predict the future, nowadays the role is of a sage counselor, tactician, and keeper of knowledge. Peakborn innermen (men who love men) are artists of movement and bodies, often becoming dancers, acrobats, martial artists, or physical therapists. Peakborn edge-minders (trans men) are trained to be Martials – individuals who have law enforcement authority outside of the police, and who are meant to be a check-and-balance. Peakborn passage-walkers (third gender) tend to be envoys between peaks, to the other castes, and to different Planets.

Among the merchant class, there are fewer sub-castes and they encompass multiple genders and sexualities. Third gender merchants, as well as trustwomen and innermen tend to be the most talented shipwrights. Transgender and gender-non-conforming trustwomen and innermen are entertainers of various kinds.

In the Sunken caste, some of the sub-castes also serve as religious roles. Third Gender Sunken become candidates for Fog Idols. Fog Idols are said to intuitively understand the fog, and protect those who go beneath it by taking some of the poison on themselves. These Sunken become Fog Idols if they survive exposure to the poisonous mists, and if they do, their skin is marked by it. This ancient practice is in modern times seen as barbaric, and when it is practiced, is done so more safely. Rarer than Fog Idols are Air Idols, who are third gender Sunken who are also deformed or disabled. Air Idols are kept as clean as possible so that, by proxy, the community will not fall to poison.

Among the Sunken, trustwomen and innermen often become healers, whether doctors, therapists, or spiritual healers.

[lodelss]

Soraya Roberts | Longreads | November 2018 | 10 minutes (2,422 words)

Should I be married to a woman? If today were yesterday, if all this sexual fluidity were in the discourse when I was coming of age in the ‘90s, would I have been with a woman instead of a man? It is a question that “The Bisexual” creator Desiree Akhavan also poses in the second episode of her Hulu series, co-produced with Channel 4 because no U.S. network wanted it. Akhavan directed, co-wrote, and stars in the show in which her character, Leila, splits with her girlfriend of 10 years, Sadie (Maxine Peake), and starts having sex with men for the first time. So, Leila asks, if the opposite had happened to her — as it did to me — and a guy had swept her off her feet instead of a woman, would things have turned out differently? “Maybe I would’ve gone the path of least resistance,” Leila says. Maybe I did.

This is a conundrum that marks a previous generation — one that had to “fight for it,” as Akhavan’s heroine puts it, and is all the more self-conscious for being juxtaposed with the next one, the one populated by the fluid youth of social media idolizing the likes of pansexual Janelle Monáe, polyamorous Ezra Miller, undecided Lucas Hedges. Call it a queer generation gap (what’s one more label?). “I don’t know what it’s like to grow up with the Internet,” 32-year-old Akhavan explains to a younger self-described “queer woman” in her show. “I just get the sense that it’s changing your relationship to gender and to sexuality in a really good way, but in a way I can’t relate to.”

***

This Playboy bunny is chest out, lips open, legs wide. This Playboy bunny is every other Playboy bunny except for the flat hairy chest because this Playboy bunny is Ezra Miller. The star of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald calls himself “queer” but it’s hard to take him seriously. What was it Susan Sontag said: it’s not camp if it’s trying to be camp? And for the past few months, while promoting the Potterverse prequel no one asked for, this 26-year-old fashionisto has been trying his damndest, styling himself as a sort of latter day Ziggy Stardust — the monastic Moncler puffer cape, the glittering Givenchy feathers — minus the depth. Six months ago, Miller looked like every other guy on the red carpet and now, per his own request, models bunny ears, fishnets, and heels as a gender-fluid rabbit for a randy Playboy interview. Okay, I guess, but it reads disingenuous to someone who grew up surrounded by closets to see them plundered so flagrantly for publicity. Described as “attracted to men and women,” Miller is nevertheless quoted mostly on the subject of guys, the ones he jerked off and fell in love with. He claims his lack of romantic success has lead him to be a polycule: a “polyamorous molecule” involving multiple “queer beings who understand me as a queer being.”

The article hit two weeks after i-D published a feature in which heartthrob Harry Styles interviewed heartthrob Timothée Chalamet with — despite their supposed reframing of masculinity — the upshot, as always, being female genuflection. “I want to say you can be whatever you want to be,” Chalamet explains, styled as a sensitive greaser for the cover. “There isn’t a specific notion, or jean size, or muscle shirt, or affectation, or eyebrow raise, or dissolution, or drug use that you have to take part in to be masculine.” Styles, on brand, pushes it further. “I think there’s so much masculinity in being vulnerable and allowing yourself to be feminine,” the 24-year-old musician says, “and I’m very comfortable with that.” (Of course you are comfortable, white guy…did I say that out loud?) As part of the boy band One Direction, Styles was marketed as a female fantasy and became a kind of latter-day Mick Jagger, the playboy who gets all the girls. His subsequent refusal to label himself, the rumors about his close relationship with band mate Louis Tomlinson, and the elevation of his song “Medicine” to “bisexual anthem”– “The boys and the girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it” — all build on a solid foundation of cis white male heterosexuality.

Timothée Chalamet’s sexuality, meanwhile, flows freely between fiction and fact. While the 22-year-old actor is “straight-identifying,” he acquires a queer veneer by virtue of his signature role as Call Me by Your Name’s Elio, a bisexual teen (or, at least, a boy who has had sex with both women and men). Yet off screen, as Timothée, he embodies a robust heterosexuality. On social media, the thirst for him skews overwhelmingly female, while reports about his romantic partners — Madonna’s daughter, Johnny Depp’s daughter — not only paint him straight but enviably so. Lucas Hedges, another straight-identified actor who plays gay in the conversion therapy drama Boy Erased, somewhat disrupts this narrative, returning fluidity to the ambiguous space it came from. The 21-year-old admitted in an interview with Vulture that he found it difficult to pin himself down, having been “infatuated with” close male friends but more often women. “I recognize myself as existing on that spectrum,” he says. “Not totally straight, but also not gay and not necessarily bisexual.” That he felt “ashamed” for not being binary despite having a sixth-grade health teacher who introduced him to the range of sexuality suggests how married our culture is to it.

As a woman familiar with the shame associated with female sexuality, it’s difficult to ignore the difference in tenor of the response to famous young white males like Miller, Styles, and Chalamet and famous black women like Janelle Monáe and Tessa Thompson not only discussing it, but making even more radical statements. Appearing on the cover of Rolling Stone in May, Monáe said straight up (so to speak): “Being a queer black woman in America — someone who has been in relationships with both men and women — I consider myself to be a free-ass motherfucker.” The same age as Desiree Akhavan, 32, Monáe identified as bisexual until she read about pansexuality. She initially came out through her music; her album, Dirty Computer, contains a song called “Q.U.E.E.N.” which was originally titled “Q.U.E.E.R.,” while the music video accompanying “Pynk” has actress Tessa Thompson emerging from Monáe’s Georgia O’Keeffe-esque pants. While neither one of them has discussed their relationship in detail, Thompson, who in Porter magazine’s July issue revealed she is attracted to men and women, said, “If people want to speculate about what we are, that’s okay.”

The mainstream press and what appeared to be a number of non-queer social media acolytes credited Chalamet and Styles with redefining their gender and trouncing toxic masculinity. “[H]arry styles, ezra miller, and timothee chalamet are going to save the world,” tweeted one woman, while The Guardian dubbed Miller the “hero we need right now.” Monáe, meanwhile, was predominantly championed by queer fans (“can we please talk about how our absolute monarch Janelle Monáe has been telegraphing her truth to the queers thru her art and fashion for YEARS and now this Rolling Stone interview is a delicious cherry on top + a ‘told u so’ to all the h*teros”) and eclipsed by questions about what pansexual actually means. While white male fluidity was held up as heroic, female fluidity, particularly black female fluidity, was somehow unremarkable. Why? Part of the answer was recently, eloquently, provided by “Younger” star Nico Tortorella, who identifies as gender-fluid, bisexual, and polyamorous. “I get to share my story,” he told The Daily Beast. “That’s a privilege that I have because of what I look like, the color of my skin, what I have between my legs, my straight passing-ness, everything.”

***

When I was growing up sex was not fun, it was fraught. Sex was AIDS, disease, death. The Supreme Court of Canada protected sexual orientation under the Charter when I was 15 but I went to school in Alberta, Canada’s version of Texas — my gym teacher was the face of Alberta beef. In my high school, no one was gay even if they were. All gender was binary. Sex was a penis in a vagina. Popular culture was as straight, and even Prince and David Bowie seemed to use their glam sparkle to sleep with more women rather than fewer. Bisexual women on film were murderers (Basic Instinct) or sluts (Chasing Amy) and in the end were united by their desire for “some serious deep dicking.” I saw no bisexual women on television (I didn’t watch “Buffy”) and LGBTQ characters were limited (“My So-Called Life”). Alanis Morissette was considered pop music’s feminist icon, but even she was singing about Dave Coulier. And the female celebrities who seemed to swing both ways — Madonna, Drew Barrymore, Bijou Phillips — were the kind who were already acting out, their sexuality a hallmark of their lack of control.

“I think unrealistic depictions of sex and relationships are harmful,” Akhavan told The New York Times. “I was raised on them and the first time I had sex, I had learned everything from film and television and I was like ‘Oh, this isn’t at all like I saw on the screen.’” Bisexuality has historically been passed over on screen for a more accessible binary depiction of relationships. In her 2013 book The B Word: Bisexuality in Contemporary Film and Television, Maria San Filippo describes what has become known as “bisexual erasure” in pop culture: “Outside of the erotically transgressive realms of art cinema and pornography, screen as well as ‘real life’ bisexuality is effaced not only by what I’ve named compulsory monosexuality but also by compulsory monogamy,” she writes, adding, “the assumption remains that the gender of one’s current object choice indicates one’s sexuality.” So even high-profile films that include leads having sex with both genders — Brokeback Mountain, The Kids Are All Right, Blue Is the Warmest Color, Carol, Call Me By Your Name — are coded “gay” rather than “bi.”

Despite the rise in bisexual women on the small screen like Annalise in “How to Get Away with Murder,” Syd in “Transparent,” and Ilana in “Broad City,” GLAAD’s latest report on inclusion cited continued underrepresentation. While 28 percent of LGBTQ characters on television are bisexual, the majority are women (75 versus 18) and they are often associated with harmful tropes — sex is used to move the plot forward and the characters scan amoral and manipulative. This despite an increase in the U.S.’s queer population to 4.5 percent in 2017 from 3.5 percent in 2012 (when Gallup started tracking it). A notable detail is the extreme generational divide in identification: “The percentage of millennials who identify as LGBT expanded from 7.3% to 8.1% from 2016 to 2017, and is up from 5.8% in 2012,” reported Gallup. “By contrast, the LGBT percentage in Generation X (those born from 1965 to 1979) was up only .2% from 2016 to 2017.”

Here’s the embarrassing part. While I am technically a millennial, I align more with Generation X (that’s not the embarrassing bit). I am attracted more to men, but I am attracted to women as well yet don’t identify as LGBTQ. How best to describe this? I remember a relative being relieved when I acquired my first boyfriend (it was late). “Oh good, I thought you were gay,” they said. I was angry at them for suggesting that being gay was a bad thing, but also relieved that I had dodged a bullet. This isn’t exactly the internalized homophobia that Hannah Gadsby talked about, but it isn’t exactly not. My parents and my brother would have been fine with me being gay. So what’s the problem? The problem is that the standard I grew up with — in the culture, in the world around me — was not homosexuality, it was heterosexuality. I don’t judge non-heterosexual relationships, but having one myself somehow falls short of ideal. For the same reason, I can’t shake the false belief that lesbian sex is less legitimate than gay sex between men. The ideal is penetration. “That’s some Chasing Amy shit,” my boyfriend, eight years younger, said. And, yeah, unfortunately, it is. I have company though.

In a survey released in June, billed as “the most comprehensive of its kind,” Whitman Insight Strategies and BuzzFeed News polled 880 LGBTQ Americans, almost half of whom were between the ages of 18 and 29, and found that the majority, 46 percent, identified as bisexual. While women self-described as bi four times as often as men (79 to 19 percent), the report did not offer a single clear reason for the discrepancy. It did, however, suggest “phallocentrism,” the notion that the penis is the organizing principle for the world, the standard. In other words, sex is a penis in a vagina. “While bisexual women are often stereotyped as sleeping with women for male attention, or just going through a phase en route to permanent heterosexuality,” the report reads, “the opposite is presumed of bisexual men: that they are simply confused or semi-closeted gay men.” This explains why women who come out, like Monáe and Thompson, are considered less iconoclastic in the popular culture than men who even just make vague gestures towards fluidity — the stakes are considered higher for the guys. In truth, few feel comfortable being bi. Though the Pew Research Center’s survey of queer Americans in 2013 revealed that 40 percent of respondents identified as bisexual, this population was less likely to come out and more likely to be with a partner of the opposite sex. Famous women like Maria Bello, Cynthia Nixon, and Kristen Stewart have all come out, yet none of them really use the label.

“Not feeling gay enough, that’s something I felt a lot of guilt over,” Akhavan told the Times. It is guilt like this and the aforementioned shame which makes it all the more frustrating to watch the ease with which the younger generation publicly owns their fluidity. It is doubly hard to watch young white men being praised for wearing bunny ears in a magazine that has so long objectified women, simply because the expectations are so much lower for them. “I’m not looking down on the younger experience of being queer,” Akhavan said, “but I do think that there’s a resentment there that we gloss over.” In response, many of us react conservatively, with the feeling that they haven’t worked for it, that it is somehow less earned because of that. This is an acknowledgment of that resentment, of the eye rolling and the snickering with which we respond to the youth (ah, youth!). In the end we are not judging you for being empowered. We are judging ourselves for not being empowered enough.

* * *

Soraya Roberts is a culture columnist at Longreads.

[lodelss]

The Queer Generation Gap

Soraya Roberts | Longreads | November 2018 | 10 minutes (2,422 words)

Should I be married to a woman? If today were yesterday, if all this sexual fluidity were in the discourse when I was coming of age in the ‘90s, would I have been with a woman instead of a man? It is a question that “The Bisexual” creator Desiree Akhavan also poses in the second episode of her Hulu series, co-produced with Channel 4 because no U.S. network wanted it. Akhavan directed, co-wrote, and stars in the show in which her character, Leila, splits with her girlfriend of 10 years, Sadie (Maxine Peake), and starts having sex with men for the first time. So, Leila asks, if the opposite had happened to her — as it did to me — and a guy had swept her off her feet instead of a woman, would things have turned out differently? “Maybe I would’ve gone the path of least resistance,” Leila says. Maybe I did.

This is a conundrum that marks a previous generation — one that had to “fight for it,” as Akhavan’s heroine puts it, and is all the more self-conscious for being juxtaposed with the next one, the one populated by the fluid youth of social media idolizing the likes of pansexual Janelle Monáe, polyamorous Ezra Miller, undecided Lucas Hedges. Call it a queer generation gap (what’s one more label?). “I don’t know what it’s like to grow up with the Internet,” 32-year-old Akhavan explains to a younger self-described “queer woman” in her show. “I just get the sense that it’s changing your relationship to gender and to sexuality in a really good way, but in a way I can’t relate to.”

***

This Playboy bunny is chest out, lips open, legs wide. This Playboy bunny is every other Playboy bunny except for the flat hairy chest because this Playboy bunny is Ezra Miller. The star of Fantastic Beasts: The Crimes of Grindelwald calls himself “queer” but it’s hard to take him seriously. What was it Susan Sontag said: it’s not camp if it’s trying to be camp? And for the past few months, while promoting the Potterverse prequel no one asked for, this 26-year-old fashionisto has been trying his damndest, styling himself as a sort of latter day Ziggy Stardust — the monastic Moncler puffer cape, the glittering Givenchy feathers — minus the depth. Six months ago, Miller looked like every other guy on the red carpet and now, per his own request, models bunny ears, fishnets, and heels as a gender-fluid rabbit for a randy Playboy interview. Okay, I guess, but it reads disingenuous to someone who grew up surrounded by closets to see them plundered so flagrantly for publicity. Described as “attracted to men and women,” Miller is nevertheless quoted mostly on the subject of guys, the ones he jerked off and fell in love with. He claims his lack of romantic success has lead him to be a polycule: a “polyamorous molecule” involving multiple “queer beings who understand me as a queer being.”

The article hit two weeks after i-D published a feature in which heartthrob Harry Styles interviewed heartthrob Timothée Chalamet with — despite their supposed reframing of masculinity — the upshot, as always, being female genuflection. “I want to say you can be whatever you want to be,” Chalamet explains, styled as a sensitive greaser for the cover. “There isn’t a specific notion, or jean size, or muscle shirt, or affectation, or eyebrow raise, or dissolution, or drug use that you have to take part in to be masculine.” Styles, on brand, pushes it further. “I think there’s so much masculinity in being vulnerable and allowing yourself to be feminine,” the 24-year-old musician says, “and I’m very comfortable with that.” (Of course you are comfortable, white guy…did I say that out loud?) As part of the boy band One Direction, Styles was marketed as a female fantasy and became a kind of latter-day Mick Jagger, the playboy who gets all the girls. His subsequent refusal to label himself, the rumors about his close relationship with band mate Louis Tomlinson, and the elevation of his song “Medicine” to “bisexual anthem”– “The boys and the girls are in/I mess around with them/And I’m OK with it” — all build on a solid foundation of cis white male heterosexuality.

Timothée Chalamet’s sexuality, meanwhile, flows freely between fiction and fact. While the 22-year-old actor is “straight-identifying,” he acquires a queer veneer by virtue of his signature role as Call Me by Your Name’s Elio, a bisexual teen (or, at least, a boy who has had sex with both women and men). Yet off screen, as Timothée, he embodies a robust heterosexuality. On social media, the thirst for him skews overwhelmingly female, while reports about his romantic partners — Madonna’s daughter, Johnny Depp’s daughter — not only paint him straight but enviably so. Lucas Hedges, another straight-identified actor who plays gay in the conversion therapy drama Boy Erased, somewhat disrupts this narrative, returning fluidity to the ambiguous space it came from. The 21-year-old admitted in an interview with Vulture that he found it difficult to pin himself down, having been “infatuated with” close male friends but more often women. “I recognize myself as existing on that spectrum,” he says. “Not totally straight, but also not gay and not necessarily bisexual.” That he felt “ashamed” for not being binary despite having a sixth-grade health teacher who introduced him to the range of sexuality suggests how married our culture is to it.

As a woman familiar with the shame associated with female sexuality, it’s difficult to ignore the difference in tenor of the response to famous young white males like Miller, Styles, and Chalamet and famous black women like Janelle Monáe and Tessa Thompson not only discussing it, but making even more radical statements. Appearing on the cover of Rolling Stone in May, Monáe said straight up (so to speak): “Being a queer black woman in America — someone who has been in relationships with both men and women — I consider myself to be a free-ass motherfucker.” The same age as Desiree Akhavan, 32, Monáe identified as bisexual until she read about pansexuality. She initially came out through her music; her album, Dirty Computer, contains a song called “Q.U.E.E.N.” which was originally titled “Q.U.E.E.R.,” while the music video accompanying “Pynk” has actress Tessa Thompson emerging from Monáe’s Georgia O’Keeffe-esque pants. While neither one of them has discussed their relationship in detail, Thompson, who in Porter magazine’s July issue revealed she is attracted to men and women, said, “If people want to speculate about what we are, that’s okay.”

The mainstream press and what appeared to be a number of non-queer social media acolytes credited Chalamet and Styles with redefining their gender and trouncing toxic masculinity. “[H]arry styles, ezra miller, and timothee chalamet are going to save the world,” tweeted one woman, while The Guardian dubbed Miller the “hero we need right now.” Monáe, meanwhile, was predominantly championed by queer fans (“can we please talk about how our absolute monarch Janelle Monáe has been telegraphing her truth to the queers thru her art and fashion for YEARS and now this Rolling Stone interview is a delicious cherry on top + a ‘told u so’ to all the h*teros”) and eclipsed by questions about what pansexual actually means. While white male fluidity was held up as heroic, female fluidity, particularly black female fluidity, was somehow unremarkable. Why? Part of the answer was recently, eloquently, provided by “Younger” star Nico Tortorella, who identifies as gender-fluid, bisexual, and polyamorous. “I get to share my story,” he told The Daily Beast. “That’s a privilege that I have because of what I look like, the color of my skin, what I have between my legs, my straight passing-ness, everything.”

***

When I was growing up sex was not fun, it was fraught. Sex was AIDS, disease, death. The Supreme Court of Canada protected sexual orientation under the Charter when I was 15 but I went to school in Alberta, Canada’s version of Texas — my gym teacher was the face of Alberta beef. In my high school, no one was gay even if they were. All gender was binary. Sex was a penis in a vagina. Popular culture was as straight, and even Prince and David Bowie seemed to use their glam sparkle to sleep with more women rather than fewer. Bisexual women on film were murderers (Basic Instinct) or sluts (Chasing Amy) and in the end were united by their desire for “some serious deep dicking.” I saw no bisexual women on television (I didn’t watch “Buffy”) and LGBTQ characters were limited (“My So-Called Life”). Alanis Morissette was considered pop music’s feminist icon, but even she was singing about Dave Coulier. And the female celebrities who seemed to swing both ways — Madonna, Drew Barrymore, Bijou Phillips — were the kind who were already acting out, their sexuality a hallmark of their lack of control.

“I think unrealistic depictions of sex and relationships are harmful,” Akhavan told The New York Times. “I was raised on them and the first time I had sex, I had learned everything from film and television and I was like ‘Oh, this isn’t at all like I saw on the screen.’” Bisexuality has historically been passed over on screen for a more accessible binary depiction of relationships. In her 2013 book The B Word: Bisexuality in Contemporary Film and Television, Maria San Filippo describes what has become known as “bisexual erasure” in pop culture: “Outside of the erotically transgressive realms of art cinema and pornography, screen as well as ‘real life’ bisexuality is effaced not only by what I’ve named compulsory monosexuality but also by compulsory monogamy,” she writes, adding, “the assumption remains that the gender of one’s current object choice indicates one’s sexuality.” So even high-profile films that include leads having sex with both genders — Brokeback Mountain, The Kids Are All Right, Blue Is the Warmest Color, Carol, Call Me By Your Name — are coded “gay” rather than “bi.”

Despite the rise in bisexual women on the small screen like Annalise in “How to Get Away with Murder,” Syd in “Transparent,” and Ilana in “Broad City,” GLAAD’s latest report on inclusion cited continued underrepresentation. While 28 percent of LGBTQ characters on television are bisexual, the majority are women (75 versus 18) and they are often associated with harmful tropes — sex is used to move the plot forward and the characters scan amoral and manipulative. This despite an increase in the U.S.’s queer population to 4.5 percent in 2017 from 3.5 percent in 2012 (when Gallup started tracking it). A notable detail is the extreme generational divide in identification: “The percentage of millennials who identify as LGBT expanded from 7.3% to 8.1% from 2016 to 2017, and is up from 5.8% in 2012,” reported Gallup. “By contrast, the LGBT percentage in Generation X (those born from 1965 to 1979) was up only .2% from 2016 to 2017.”

Here’s the embarrassing part. While I am technically a millennial, I align more with Generation X (that’s not the embarrassing bit). I am attracted more to men, but I am attracted to women as well yet don’t identify as LGBTQ. How best to describe this? I remember a relative being relieved when I acquired my first boyfriend (it was late). “Oh good, I thought you were gay,” they said. I was angry at them for suggesting that being gay was a bad thing, but also relieved that I had dodged a bullet. This isn’t exactly the internalized homophobia that Hannah Gadsby talked about, but it isn’t exactly not. My parents and my brother would have been fine with me being gay. So what’s the problem? The problem is that the standard I grew up with — in the culture, in the world around me — was not homosexuality, it was heterosexuality. I don’t judge non-heterosexual relationships, but having one myself somehow falls short of ideal. For the same reason, I can’t shake the false belief that lesbian sex is less legitimate than gay sex between men. The ideal is penetration. “That’s some Chasing Amy shit,” my boyfriend, eight years younger, said. And, yeah, unfortunately, it is. I have company though.

In a survey released in June, billed as “the most comprehensive of its kind,” Whitman Insight Strategies and BuzzFeed News polled 880 LGBTQ Americans, almost half of whom were between the ages of 18 and 29, and found that the majority, 46 percent, identified as bisexual. While women self-described as bi four times as often as men (79 to 19 percent), the report did not offer a single clear reason for the discrepancy. It did, however, suggest “phallocentrism,” the notion that the penis is the organizing principle for the world, the standard. In other words, sex is a penis in a vagina. “While bisexual women are often stereotyped as sleeping with women for male attention, or just going through a phase en route to permanent heterosexuality,” the report reads, “the opposite is presumed of bisexual men: that they are simply confused or semi-closeted gay men.” This explains why women who come out, like Monáe and Thompson, are considered less iconoclastic in the popular culture than men who even just make vague gestures towards fluidity — the stakes are considered higher for the guys. In truth, few feel comfortable being bi. Though the Pew Research Center’s survey of queer Americans in 2013 revealed that 40 percent of respondents identified as bisexual, this population was less likely to come out and more likely to be with a partner of the opposite sex. Famous women like Maria Bello, Cynthia Nixon, and Kristen Stewart have all come out, yet none of them really use the label.

“Not feeling gay enough, that’s something I felt a lot of guilt over,” Akhavan told the Times. It is guilt like this and the aforementioned shame which makes it all the more frustrating to watch the ease with which the younger generation publicly owns their fluidity. It is doubly hard to watch young white men being praised for wearing bunny ears in a magazine that has so long objectified women, simply because the expectations are so much lower for them. “I’m not looking down on the younger experience of being queer,” Akhavan said, “but I do think that there’s a resentment there that we gloss over.” In response, many of us react conservatively, with the feeling that they haven’t worked for it, that it is somehow less earned because of that. This is an acknowledgment of that resentment, of the eye rolling and the snickering with which we respond to the youth (ah, youth!). In the end we are not judging you for being empowered. We are judging ourselves for not being empowered enough.

* * *

Soraya Roberts is a culture columnist at Longreads.

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