Walking a Fine Line

Siân Dada explores popular myths and misunderstandings about bisexuality.

Feature by Siân Dada | 11 Apr 2007

I've become used to fielding certain questions when I tell people that I'm bisexual, usually along the lines of "who's better in bed?" or "who do you fancy most, men or women?". These questions make the assumptions that all of my experiences with each respective gender have been the same, and that I enjoy discussing my sexual experiences with virtual strangers in the pub. Overall, they're an attempt to classify me one way or the other. To use a well worn analogy, it's as though they're saying, "Look, you may choose to sit on the fence, but could you at least give us the courtesy of telling us which way you are leaning."

Bisexuality tends to unsettle people - it disrupts our mental classification of people into one of two boxes, gay or straight. Sexuality is popularly seen as an either/or option which leads to two completely different and incompatible lifestyles, and this myth serves a very useful purpose in helping many gay and straight people to feel less threatened in their own sexual identities. And then bisexuals come along and upset the apple cart, muddy the waters and bring down the nice neat wall that has been built up between the two camps, by saying that they are both one and the other.

Although things are getting easier as social attitudes towards sex and sexuality become more relaxed, there are still relatively few people who can grasp the idea that sexuality is something that is complex, fluid and very individual. There are really as many sexualities as there are people who are sexual. We use labels such as gay or bisexual as a rough shorthand, or sometimes because it gives us a sense of belonging to a community, but they don't necessarily give a clear indication of what our sexual behaviour is.

The bisexual label is used by people in a whole range of circumstances, from married men to women who mainly identify as lesbians but reserve the right to occasionally sleep with a man. Some bisexuals are monogamous, some aren't, but so it is for people of all sexualities. However, bisexuality seems to threaten people who are unable to see the difference between sexual identity and sexual behaviour, and who presume that a bisexual person would be unable to maintain a long-term monogamous relationship.

Added to this, bisexuality disrupts our cosy little notion of romantic love: an idea that runs deep in our culture that we will all one day meet Mr or Ms Right, the person who fulfils all our desires, and that we will never look longingly at anyone else again. By adopting a bisexual identity, I'm basically saying that I find more than one type of person attractive and that there is more than one type of person that I could be romantically involved with. I think that it's an honest approach to relationships, but it has confused some of my partners in the past, believing that they are not good enough for me, will not meet all of my needs. In reality, no one person can ever completely meet another person's needs - it's a myth, but one that has sustained the notion of romantic love since exaggeration began.

I don't like to think of my sexuality as having two sides to it, a gay and a straight part, but I find that often people tend to focus on whichever 'side' suits them. My family only relate to me as a straight woman who can't find the right man; lesbians sometimes think of me as a lesbian who hasn't fully come out yet. People engage with the part of me that is acceptable to them, and conveniently ignore the rest. I've come to think of myself as almost having a dual personality, walking a fine line between two different worlds with different norms and cultures: lesbian subculture and mainstream straight culture. I wish that the two weren't so separated; there are relatively few environments where I feel that I'm really accepted for who I am. Concerned friends tell me that I need to make my mind up and work out where I'm going, but that would be impossible. My sexuality is essentially a question mark, but I'm happy for it to stay that way.