#i just felt like talking about internalized biphobia today???

[simptasia]

it occured to me that i have a lot of bi headcanons for lost where it’s like, the character hasn’t accepted it yet. part of this is because 2004 to 2007 was somehow still having issues grappling with this concept

so i’m making a list of bi headcanons in lost, but it’s the characters who haven’t accepted it and why they haven’t yet (or ever)

internalized biphobia ahoy!

jack

he’s attracted to women so rationally he’s not gay, right? yeah he’s using the it’s one or the other logic. jack knows there’s nothing wrong with being gay. he’s just not gay. that’s fine. it’s fine. [shakes images out of his head]

also i know in my heart that christian and margo are queerphobic. not in the full on getting the belt out way but in the passive aggressive way

claire

she just assumes all straight women feel this way about women and it takes a while for it to occur to her that she’s just in a bizarre form of denial

desmond

he regards his experiences with other men in the army to be “experimenting” and he chooses not to dwell on it

richard

it just took a reeeeally long time for him to find his closet key (miles). the bisexuality was always waiting inside him, it just didn’t unlock until he was like 179 ish. and yes, miles finds this fucking baffling in a “you’re this hot and you’ve been alive this long and you haven’t been getting both kinds of ass??” way

ben

he grew up aware that queer people exist (dharma being a hippie commune) but also instilled in him that it’s weird and gross (roger). but also i think ben has a weird view of sexuality, that sexual desire makes people... weaker? in the sense that he’s observed that people act foolish for sex and love and therefore such emotions are a weakness and he’s better than that

so it’s a weird thing where ben isn’t homophobic to other people (if tom, greta and bonnie are any indication) but he is to himself. but he’s also shaming himself for having sexual desire at all. i think cuz he’s convinced himself that he’s selfless and utterly devoted to jacob and the island. sometimes he almost believes his own lies. but yeah anyways touching himself makes him feel icky, whether it’s about men or women or both so... yeah

locke

okay, locke is bi to me but i’ve always been ? about his sexuality because wow, locke feels like such a nonsexual being to me. so like does locke know he’s bi? i think so? but i don’t think he’d ever call himself that

i think if you asked, locke would say “i don’t wanna label it” or something

besides anything else, he’s an older man who grew up in the foster care system, i have to assume he grew up hearing that being queer is a Bad Thing

locke doesn’t agree but he’d rather not commit to the concept. like, maybe locke thinks being Gay would require him to do things or act a certain way rather than just be. so he’s just like “i am what i am” and stares at a sunset

sawyer

okay now here’s a bitch who actually would be homophobic, biphobic, etc. and it’s directed at himself also. he’s got an idea in his head of what gay dudes are like and no way is he like that so he’s not gay. as for being bi, i think if somebody (eg. charlie) said they were bi, he’d roll his eyes because he thinks they’re saying it for attention. “oh yeah everybody’s bi nowadays, pfft”

also i think sawyer thinks bi people, if they exist, are just people who have threesomes all the time. all the while, he is bi and he’s just making himself not confront it. and hey, even if he was, ya know, queer - not that he is - he’s giving not taking so it’s less gay, obviously. yeah, his bisexuality got all tainted by toxic masculinity. i love sawyer but i ain’t gonna pretend he ain’t got some macho posturing shit going on. and he’s canonically bigoted

shannon

making out with girls is just something you do for fun, haha it’s just silly time, it doesn’t mean anything, it’s not like Real Love, haha, your lips are so soft...

....oh

boone

a combo of not wanting to be mocked and a bad case of “it doesn’t count if”. it’s just porn, it doesn’t count because it’s not real. as long as i don’t do stuff with a dude, it doesn’t count. okay so i did stuff with a dude, but it was a threesome and a girl was there so it doesn’t count. okay okay i did stuff with a dude and it wasn’t a threesome but he never put it inside me so it doesn’t count. okay this dude put it inside me but-

and so on

(and to make it weirder, i think boone would just be gay if shannon didn’t exist. like the Wants Girls part of his sexuality only exists because of her. yikes)

anyways

assume that other characters i consider bi had issues with it when they were younger but are pretty much over it by the time of adulthood (tho charlie does grapple with it. like he’s accepted being bi in a “well, there’s no hope for me anyways” kind of way, so it’s... back handed self acceptance?)

thank you for your time

[thtdamfangirl4]

Bisexual people don’t owe you ANYTHING. We don’t owe you proof or explanations, we don’t need to be more queer or less straight or any of that bullshit because we are exactly what we are: bi. We don’t need to be with a person of the same gender to fucking validate ourselves in your eyes. We don’t need to share our dating histories or personal information just cause you want to know. It’s none of your goddamn business, and nobody asks the same questions of straight people, and they rarely ask it of gay people too.

I know this is a community, and that we all have so many shared experiences, but I’m so goddamn sick of the rampant biphobia in the world and so many people don’t see it or think about it or they let it slide. It fucking sucks. I’m sick of defending myself to heteronormative assholes who don’t believe I exist, for whom I am not straight enough. And I’m sick of reading posts from queer people, the kind of people I usually feel safest around, that tell me I don’t belong in their spaces.

In all honesty, I’m an incredibly privileged person. I am. I’m white and grew up in an upper middle class family and I’m able bodied and intelligent and I went to good schools and had a mostly good family, and I didn’t get dealt a lot of difficult cards. All of this is to say that, much like everything else in my life, I don’t really give a shit about myself.

I got fucked up from some things that happened to me, but I never really did anything about it or felt angry until I saw it happen to people around me. I consider my own feelings far less often than I consider those of the people I care about. That’s how I feel about this. So if you want to be a biphobic asshole, direct it at me. I’ve taken it before, and I’ll survive it again. I can hear slurs and bible passages from family and priests and deal with people I considered friends telling me I would never really be a part of the queer community. Throw it at me if you’re a shithead who needs a target cause if I see you doing it to one more kid who’s going to internalize it the way I did, I’ll fucking lose my mind.

We don’t owe you anything, and we don’t deserve your hatred and constant invalidation. Stop erasing us. Stop berating us. And for the love of GOD, stop telling kids who they are or are not supposed to be, or placing labels on themselves that they’re not ready to hand you. WE DONT OWE YOU A LABEL. QUEER PEOPLE OF ALL KINDS DO NOT OWE YOU A COMING OUT. Heteronormative society demands one, because to them, we are outliers, we are strangers, we must announce ourselves. Fuck that bullshit. We owe you NOTHING. Celebrities??? They owe you NOTHING. Believe what you want to believe, but stop pressuring people to reveal their private lives to you. They owe you NOTHING. And especially if that person is young, you have no idea how much damage you’re doing. Stop commenting on everything about how “queer coded” something is. It’s a person’s LIFE. It’s not a code to be cracked. You want to talk about that? Text your friend, tell your roommate, say it to upset your dad. But don’t go yell across the internet void at an impressionable human being (something we are at every age) that you “know their secret.” You’re making it harder. You’re making it worse. I’ve felt this way before, too. Sure of something, sure of representation I so desperately craved. And I still think maybe I’m right. But it’s not my place to yell at celebrities and anybody else I know about coming out, because that’s a deeply personal decision.

Watching an 18 year old who is giving the world perhaps the best onscreen bisexual representation I’ve ever seen get harassed into coming out to get a mob of prying, insensitive fans off his back was something that fueled my anger today. And the people who caused the problem are standing by it, some even saying he’ll be “fully out” by next year. Fuck you. Fuck every biphobic bone in your body. Leave kit alone, leave young adults alone, leave adults alone, stop forcing people to fit into your boxes so you can judge them accordingly. QUEER PEOPLE OWE YOU NOTHING. At 18, I hadn’t come out to anyone except my closest friends, who were also queer. Not my parents, not my siblings, and now, years later, still not to many other family members, friends, or coworkers. We are constantly talking about not knowing what we’re doing through the early years of adulthood, and yet you’re demanding that 18 year old kids have it all figured out, and on top of it, be okay and comfortable enough with all of it to announce it to the world, despite living in a world that still sees us as a secondary group and tells us we’re going to hell. Or that we’re liars. Or both. That’s fucked. Leave people alone.

[hellomynameisbisexual]

I grew up surrounded by religion, from Christian schools and summer camps to weekly church and youth groups. Most of these institutions taught me that it was sinful to be gay. Even if they taught that an “attraction” to the same sex was okay, it was coupled with the lesson that acting on it was a sin.

I never really vibed with that part of Christianity, even at my most devout moments. I firmly called myself an ally, tried to find holes in scripture to debunk anti-LGBT creed, and argued with friends and family about the morality of homosexuality. I don’t know if it was because I grew up in the San Francisco Bay Area or the fact that I was just a closeted bisexual.

Unfortunately, even though I disagreed with what I was taught, those homophobic lessons still firmly rooted themselves into my head. The result has been years of internalized biphobia that I’m still working through today. Don’t worry, it’s not all doom and gloom. I’ve found ways to actively fight against those evil thoughts in my head. Before I get to that, let’s look back at the beginning of how I came out to myself, and then everyone else.

Becoming Bisexual

As a host on the podcast Sex Ed Shouldn’t Suck, I talk to a lot of people about their sexual orientation, particularly about their journey of self-discovery. Some people knew they weren’t straight from the minute they felt a twinge of sexual attraction. Others describe it as more of a flicker that they tried to ignore until they couldn’t. My experience is more of the latter.

I was always attracted to the opposite sex. My first memory of a crush was in preschool. I loved chasing boys around the play yard and there was a little boy at school that I liked. My first memory of attraction to a woman came much later.

I was around ten and watching Return of the Jedi with my family. Believe it or not, it wasn’t sexy bikini Leia that got me going. It was Oola, the blue green alien lady that was fed to the rancor. Something about that scene turned me on in a really confusing way. That being said, I didn’t identify this scenario as bisexuality, but more as an indicator of my interest in bondage.

A few years later, my first real face-to-face experience with bisexuality came when I had feelings for my best friend (let’s call her Melissa). Melissa and I hung out almost daily in the summer when I was fourteen. Granted, we were often talking about boys we liked, but my feelings reached their pinnacle when we were having a sleepover one night. She was in my bed next to me, and I remember a voice in my head saying “What if you just kissed her? What would it feel like?” And more than just that voice prompting me to think about kissing Melissa, I found that I really wanted to.

That one innocent thought sent me into a spiral. I was in 8th grade at the time and hadn’t even kissed a boy yet (though I had imagined kissing dozens of them). Was I a lesbian? I desperately didn’t want to be. I vividly imagined scenarios where my friends and family disowned me and I was ousted from the church. Or worse, I would be an outcast and have to end up alone for the rest of my life because it would be sinful to marry a woman.

I never talked to anyone about it. I don’t think I even wrote about it in my diary for fear that someone would find out. The crush felt dirty to me, so I kept it secret. I stuffed it deep down and hoped it would go away. It eventually did, especially once I changed schools and started receiving lots of attention from the boys at my new school.

My new public high school was a welcome change from my private Christian school. I mostly dove head first into making out with as many boys as I could my freshman year, but the tingle of attraction to women never really faded.

Even as a “straight” teenager in a liberal area at a non-religious school I still experienced biphobic behaviors. The first experience I remember was when I was sixteen, my boyfriend told me that if I ever waned to make out with another woman, he wouldn’t mind because it would essentially be “the same as making out with a wall” for me. So I took him up on it. I went to a birthday party where a group of girls played spin the bottle and I made out with almost all o f them. I then enthusiastically went to tell my boyfriend about it and he got angry. I guess he failed to mention that it was only okay if he was present to enjoy watching. Huh.

The second experience was when a girl at my high school came out as bisexual. All of my guy friends went bonkers over her and it drove me up the wall. I was jealous as hell and assumed she was just doing it for the attention.

By the end of high school, I had these two different biphobic messages in my head. One told me that being gay was sinful and wrong in any context. Bisexuals were really just lesbians trying to ignore their reality. The other told me that straight girls liked to pretend to be lesbian in order to get more sexual attention from men. This caused me to doubt my own sexuality.

After I experienced a painful breakup in 2014, I decided to try and date again. I downloaded Tinder and even turned on my preferences to be for men or women. But I kept hitting a problem: I could easily find an excuse to turn down a woman I matched with. Sometimes her grammar was bad, sometimes one of her pictures was weird, sometimes she was too forward, and sometimes she was too shy. Honestly, I was just scared. I didn’t think I could exist as a valued person and exclusively date a woman.

So I continued to date men and experimented with women in a strictly casual way. I continued to make out with friends when drinking “as a joke” and quietly check out women in life, sometimes even harboring crushes on friends. In other words, the only way that interacting with a woman felt safe — or even valid — was in front of men.

Eventually, my partner in 2016 and I decided to have a threesome with another woman so I could explore my sexuality. Looking back on it now, I know I’m really lucky to have had a drop dead gorgeous, incredibly kind, and sexually insatiable friend who was interested in group sex with us (hear more about that story here). I was beyond nervous. I was finally going to take a step beyond making out with a friend and have sex with a woman. It felt safe because my boyfriend was there, which was the only way I had even known my bisexuality to be valid. The best part for me was that I felt like once I finally went down on a girl, I would know if I was “actually” bisexual, or if I just liked the idea of it.

The idea that bisexuality must be physically expressed in order to be defensible is extremely biphobic…but I won’t lie, I felt validated as hell when I ate her out and loved it. I could finally claim my B in the LGBTQ+ and not feel like a poser with a boyfriend trying to infiltrate an exclusive club.

Bring on the Biphobia

I’m now polyamorous, which has been instrumental in a lot of unlearning I’ve had to do over the years. It also opens up my romantic and sexual life to dating people who don’t identify as male. I’ve been trying to for the last two years, but now I’m starting to hit the walls of stuffed internalized biphobia from all the negative messaging I learned as I grew up.

It comes up in a few different ways. I almost always doubt my ability to tell if a woman is into me. With men, it’s like reading a book I’ve read hundreds of times. I know what to look for, I know what to expect, and I know what to do to get what I want. With women, I have no idea if they’re flirting with me or if they’re just being nice. On dates, I’ll freeze up when it comes to making a move. I can’t kiss her, even if I really want to.

Often, I’m struck with a paralyzing fear that I’m being creepy or sending unwanted attention on a woman. I think part of that fear is knowing how horrible it feels to be hit when it’s not wanted. Especially if the person is…unsavory. That thought likes to work in tandem with the Christianity messaging that same-sex relations are disgusting and wrong. So if I hit on a woman and she isn’t into it, I’m afraid I’ve presented her with something horrible and sinful and she will resent me for it. Then I resent myself.

It also impacts my female friendships. I’m not very touchy with my friends that are women. Ever since I came out as bisexual and began talking about it openly with my friends, I’ve noticed that I recoil when my friends touch me. My best friend will try to snuggle me on the couch platonically or dance with me when we’re out — a totally normal way that people behave — but I’m so deeply terrified of making my friends feel uncomfortable that I think I need to remove myself from the situation.

The mean biphobic voice in my head tells me whatever it can to make me doubt myself. It will even flip flop between contradicting arguments, trying to worm its way in. At times it will tell me that I’m only publicly out and bi so that I can seem sexier to cis straight men. I’m just a needy attention whore that craves the male gaze. Then immediately after, it will say that I better be careful going out with a woman because I might actually just be a giant lesbian and then I’ll have to break up with my fiancé and boyfriend.

My internalized biphobia prevents me from being able to really enjoy dates with women. It stops me from fully embracing my sexuality. It gets in the way of relaxing and being my snuggly self with my female friends. Overall, it keeps me from just being able to do what feels authentic to me.

So what is there to do?

Overcoming and Unlearning Biphobia

I don’t have all the answers yet because I’m still working on this myself. I also want to add that I’m not a medical professional, these are just things I’ve tried that have worked for me.

An important part of accepting my own sexuality has been the process of overcoming my internalized biphobia and unlearning harmful lessons. For all of these, remember that it’s a process and not something that will change overnight.

Affirmations and Validations

The biggest help for me so far has just been to find validation in my own sexuality from within. Any time I have a doubt, I listen to what that doubt is saying, acknowledge it, and then give myself a positive affirmation that I think is true.

For example, if I was hanging out with a friend and she puts her head on my shoulder, my brain might go into a panic and say “You’re being creepy! Abort! Get up and leave the situation!” I listen to that thought, acknowledge it, and then I send it into a little boat to sail away. Then I tell myself “This is your friend and she loves you. She feels safe around you and her expression of that physically has nothing to do with your sexuality.”

Other validations can just be regularly telling yourself:

“I’m bisexual because I like men and women.”

“I’m bisexual for myself.”

“Being bisexual is great!”

“My sexuality is beautiful and valid.”

These may sound simple, but I’ve found that my brain can act like a toddler that needs simple concepts repeated over and again in order to push out bad messaging.

Push Your Comfort Zone

Another way that I’ve worked through my feelings is by continuing to do what I want to do, even if it makes me uncomfortable. I recently went on a date with a woman that went really well. At the end of it, we both wanted to kiss, but were both too awkward to do it. Afterwards, she texted me saying that she wished she had kissed me.

When we went out again, I went into the date knowing there might be a kiss at the end. It made me incredibly nervous and I wanted to bail a number of times because I was so afraid of having to make a move. But guess what? I didn’t have to. She made the move, we kissed, and it was wonderful. I’m glad I pushed through my feelings because now I’m feeling even more confident than I did before.

Be Open About Your Sexuality

I know that this isn’t going to be possible for everyone because of the world we live in, but for me, being open about my bisexuality to everyone has helped cement it as a part of my identity. For a long time I displayed as a very straight monogamous person to the world because I was too afraid to come out. Recently, I’ve begun to speak openly about being bisexual and polyamorous and you know what? It feels great. Every time I tell someone I’m bi, I feel a little closer to my truth.

Affirm Others in Their Sexuality

I’ve found that talking to people from a variety of sexual orientations has also helped make me more accepting of my own. Affirming others in their choices makes my own choices seem worthy of acceptance as well. It also has opened up a whole world of learning about what makes people tick, and I love it.

Working through internalized biphobia is hard. Studies have shown that bisexuals experience high levels of mental health issues due to confusion and lack of acceptance from both the straight and LGBTQ+ communities.

If you’re not bisexual but you’re reading this, really try to look at ways that you may have invalidated someone’s bisexuality in the past. Think about how you can show love and support to the bisexual people in your life. Your acceptance could mean a world of difference to someone.

If you’re bisexual and reading this, just keep loving yourself and know that your sexuality is super fucking valid.

[posi-pan]

I had an upsetting interaction with a panphobe today and it made me feel like it would be easier if I just gave in and started calling myself bi (bi ppl are great, I'm just not one of them) and I hate feeling like that :( it's okay if you don't want to answer this since it's a downer and not even a question, I'm just really sad and trying to find support n positive stuff :(

ugh i'm sorry that happened. you don't deserve to be feeling that way. the fact that people can make us feel like this about ourselves and our identity when we aren't doing anything wrong or hurting anyone is so fucked up.

would it be easier to just identify as bi? possibly. but at what cost? we'd lose our sense of self, autonomy over our identity, our community, our pride. it'd just be another closet. and we deserve better than that.

being pan doesn't hurt anyone. if someone claims otherwise, it's their own insecurity and internalized issues speaking, and those things don't get to dictate our identity and label and how we express ourselves. being pan is lovely and wonderful and we deserve to take pride in that and celebrate it.

i know panphobia is horrible and constant, but those people will just find something else about us to hate and police and blame for all negative things they feel about themselves. changing who we are, or rather, repressing it, won't make their self-hatred go away, or make them stop taking it out on us.

(if we identified as bi instead, they'd probably just turn biphobia on us and claim we're not truly bi or we're bi in the wrong way. they'd never be satisfied.)

we have a lovely community of supportive people who are always going to be there if you need someone to talk or vent to, who will lift you up when you're down about panphobia, who will remind you how perfect and valid you are as is when you forget it or someone tries to tell you otherwise.

panphobia is draining and i understand thinking maybe giving in is easier, but this is what community is for. you're never alone. we have each other, ya know? we can help each other through doubt and internalized panphobia. whatever you're feeling, another pan person has felt too, and got through it, so you can, too. and even if you're not quite there yet, knowing that can make a hell of a difference.

hang in there and know you're not alone, that it's okay to be pan, and there's a whole community rooting for you and doing their best to drown out the hate with love and positivity.

i don't know how helpful or positive or whatever this is. but i hope it makes you feel maybe a bit better? if anyone else has some kind, positive words, please do share!

[awrestlinggirlwholoves80sbands]

Guns N’Roses when they discover that their girlfriend is bisexual:

A/N: Requested by this anon, and I couldn’t do anything but write it because y’all know my bi ass loves some bi-positivity. Also today is bisexual awareness day, so this is a gift to all the wonferdul bi girls/ bi female presenting people ( don’t worry bi nb/ bi boys, soon I’ll do the second part for you)

TW: Mentions of sex, curse words, mentions of internalized biphobia

Axl Rose:

You were constantly afraid that your boyfriend Axl could discover your secret.

You never told him that you were bisexual, too afraid of being rejected or laughed at. Everybody knew what Axl had said on people of the community like you, in the past, and even if he was growing and changing, you were still too scared to come out.

But a part of you knew it had to be done, if there was something Axl hated was liars, many people in his life destructed his trust, also everyday you were finding more difficult keeping the real you hidden, and you were afraid it could make you two break up.

You two were cuddling on the couch, not so invested in the random movie on the TV, he looked so calm and happy, smiling every time he looked at you, kissing gently your hand. You hated to burst his bubble of happiness, but you knew it has to be done, so you decided to gather the courage, and talk to him.

“Axl, I need to tell you something.” You wanted to sound chill, but your voice was trembling a bit.

“Did something happen? Is it bad?” Axl was getting scared, even if he was trying to hide it.

“I kept a secret from you, and I’m sorry. I’m…. I’m bisexual. I’ve never told you because I was afraid you would have found me disgusting, like all the others, I was scared that you thought I could cheat on you just like your exes, but even more just because of my sexuality. But I’m not more likely to cheat and I’m not confused. I-” You broke down, salty tears streaming down your cheeks.

You waited for screams, for insults, or any bad reaction. Would he left? Would he be angry with you because you kept a secret? Would he throw you out of the house?

He did neither of those things, instead he took you into his arms, kissing your forehead.

“Shhh, baby it’s okay. I’m not angry or disappointed, I know what I’ve said in the past and I’m sorry, I’m trying to change, and I could never hate my girlfriend, I could never be angry at you for who you are. I’m proud of you! And I hope to learn more and be a better boyfriend with you at my side!”

“So is it not a problem for you?” You asked, still unsure.

He shook his head, and kissed you softly, first on your lips, then all over your face.

Slash

You and Slash were slumped on a couch, pretty drunk, in the Hell House. All the other members were too busy or passed out to give a fuck about you two, so you were talking about random shit, like you usually do when you are not sober.

You were on your boyfriend’s lap, his arms around you and you were talking about his first time having sex. You were not shy to talk about past relationships, even the sex parts.

“Wait, you were really only 14? Fuck, that’s impressive! “You said with a giggle.

“How was your first time?” He asked you, taking a long sip from his Jack bottle.

Well, your first time was actually with a girl, they one that made you realize you had feelings for other girls too, rather than just boys. But you could have just lied and tell him your first time with a boy, right? I mean you were not out to him so it was the logical thing to do.

Wrong! Your inebriated brain didn’t want to collaborate, so you just started telling him the real story.

“I was older than you, like 17 or 18. I knew her for quite some months, she was my friend, and we did it at their parents’ house. It was great, until they come back earlier than we thought and I had to jump out of the window!” You laughed hysterically, but the look of confusion on Slash’s face made you stop.

Oh, fuck! You were so screwed!

“So it was a girl?” Your boyfriend questioned, completely chill.

“Yeah, I’m bi, so I like girls too. Are you disgusted with me?” You were usually never scared, but then your heart was jumping out of your chest.

“I could never be disgusted with you, baby. I’m just surprised that my girl likes girls too, but that doesn’t mean I don’t agree with that or I don’t support you. I’ll keep loving you, no matter what.” You kiss him on the lips, too happy to say anything.

“Plus I could use that as an excuse to have threesomes with some groupies!” He added, and you punched him on the shoulder with a smile.

Duff Mckagan

You were sitting at the bar counter, when you felt Duff’s long arms around you.

“Babe, something weird happened earlier, you can’t believe that!”

You were starting to get a little worried, but Duff seemed mainly amused, so it wasn’t something too bad.

“Okay so a groupie approached me backstage…” Well know you started to  get worried and a little jealous.

“And?”

“Well she looked me in the eyes and told me that she thought my girlfriend was into girls too. I was like What the hell? And she said you totally have like this energy, I don’t know she was weird, but I want to show you to her so she could prove me her point!”

Okay, now you were super scared. Because, you were bisexual, but Duff didn’t know that. So did you had to pretend that you are straight or be honest? But what if they already knew and it was all a test?

You decided to nod and follow him, just to not raise any suspect on you. However, once you had the groupie right in front of you, you stopped dead in your tracks.

Oh, no she was hot!

Of course, you loved Duff and didn’t feel any desire to date the girl, but hell if you were not in love him, you would have hit on her tonight. She totally made your bisexual heart skip a beat.

“Oh wow, she was right then!” Duff said surprised, looking at your open mouth. The girl just smiled, happy to have proven her point and left you two.

Those words brought you back to reality, and you started to feel a sense of dread inside you, while your eyes started to get wet. Fuck, you felt horrible, Duff would have left you and you couldn’t live without him.

“Hey baby girl, hey look at me!” Duff’s smooth voice said, cupping your face.

“P-please don’t leave me. I-I swear I love you!” You were so scared and desperate, while the void inside you kept growing.

“I’d never do that sweetheart! I love you so much, and this doesn’t change anything between us!” He hugged you closer, rubbing your back.

“I’m sorry if I didn’t tell you that I was bi sooner!” You said between the sobs.

“It’s totally okay, I’m proud of you for doing it now.” The blond answered with a smile.

“By the way, you have a great taste in women, if I was not your boy, I’d be your wingman!” He joked, kissing your forehead and your lips.

Izzy Stradlin

Today was not a good day for you.

For years, you had struggled with your feelings, you tried to keep them down, to convince yourself that there was no way in hell that you could also like girls, but they never went away. You just couldn’t understand, that was not normal, you were supposed to like either girl or boys, you had to choose.

But then, thanks to a friend, you realized that what you were feeling had a name : bisexuality. You never felt brave enough to come out, and you still felt like you were “wrong”, but things seemed to be easier.

However, since Izzy became your boyfriend, you felt bad keeping this thing from him, and also to feel in that way. You were not sure if he would ever accept you or not.

“What are you thinking? You have been pretty distant today, and I’m saying that!” Your boyfriend asks, with his usual calm.

You were bad and you clearly needed to take this thing off his chest, so maybe you could have talked about it with him? Izzy was a very smart and kind man, never the judging type, but still that’s different when it is about your girlfriend.

“I’m bisexual. I think I’ve known this since I was a teenager, but I’m admitting it with myself just now. I’m so fucking scared that you could hate me, or that I could hate myself, everything is so confusing and scary. But yeah, I’m sure I’m bisexual!” You bit your lips, nervously.

“Okay.” He simply answered, getting back to play his guitar.

“Just okay? No screams, or disgusted faces? No I’m proud of you?” You were happy that he didn’t seem angry, but still disappointed with his nonchalance.

“I love my girlfriend and this won’t change anything. I’m glad you realized who you are, but I won’t treat you any different. I loved you before and I still love you now!” He was serious, but then a smiled softly.

“Well I’m so glad you feel like this, I was so scared to lose you!” You admitted.

“Nah, I would never leave you. Oh, I’m proud of you!” He said at the end, gently kissing your lips.

Steven Adler

Your boyfriend Steven was on tour, and you spent much time thinking about whatever you should come out to him as bisexual. Sometimes you felt super confident while others you just kept stop imagine the worst, you loved him so much and the thought of him leaving you would break your heart, but also keeping this secret was eating you alive.

In the end you realize that you had to do it, but in a fun way, doing something that Steven would have loved and maybe that could have helped you being accepted, and what better way to do it that with a lovely chocolate cake, your boyfriend’s favorite.

So you started to bake, picking up all the ingredients and swaying  to some random music, hoping that it would have calmed you down a bit. Once the cake was in the oven, you prepared the frosting and also decided what to write on it : a simple “I’m bisexual” with two little hearts.

The doorbell rang right when you finished decorating, so you quickly put the cake in the fridge, and opened the door. Steven picked you up with force, hugged you tightly and made you spinning, all with a huge smile on his face.

“Babe I missed you so much! This tour was awesome, but without you there was something missing, like I needed my girl to be there!” He explained, getting inside.

“Well I’m here Stevie and you can spend as much time as you want with me.” You answered, kissing his nose.

“I’ll stay with you all the time. Oh, is it chocolate cake the smell I sniff?” He asked excited.

“Ehrm… yeah but it is a surprise, so sit and close your eyes.” You tried to hide your trembling voice and with shaky hands you put the cake on the table.

The blond drummer smiled, then he frowned, looking quite confuse. You felt like every bit of air left your lungs.

“Honey, what’s this?”

“I’m bisexual, I like girls too. I wanted to tell you, but I was too scared that you could have taken it the wrong way, so I keep it a secret. However, it was too much and I felt the need to tell you, please don’t go away from me!” You pleaded scared, just to be in Steven’s arms the next moment.

“ Hey I love you, you’re my girl, and I’m very happy that you decided to tell me this very important thing! I’ll always love you, no way I stop doing that. So please don’t be scared or cry now, okay?”

You were in tears, but they were happy ones. Your boyfriend held you even closer, keeping telling you how proud he was of you.

“10 points for creativity, that cake looks amazing, can we eat it now?” You cut a slice and gave to him, his smile priceless as he realized it was a two flavor one.

A bi cake though and through.

[antiterf]

I would really appreciate if people talked about this more

I’ve never mentioned this before on here, but I used to label myself as a truscum. I never outright said anything on it or about it online, and never attacked people with it, I’ll get that down first. I mostly used that for myself because those were the blogs that I went to for issues with dysphoria as a trans man.

This post isn’t about how truscum are bad, those who are going to reblog and listen to this post already think that truscum are bad. This is me pointing out that trans men and those with severe internalized transphobia need more of a community to avoid falling into truscum rhetoric.

Trigger Warning: Description of my self injury, internalized transphobia, and a lot of depression under the cut.

I originally went to truscum to figure out if I was dysphoric or not. I know I’ve had an anon on here try to ask me somewhat of the same question. The reason why is because I had a lot of internalized transphobia and live in a conservative Christian suburb. I seriously was born and raised in the same town my life and that town was that suburb. I was around 14 at the time.

Basically, the only reason why I wanted to find out is because I wanted to know if I could force myself to be cisgender. I was terrified of being transgender, and I hated myself for the possibility of it.

My logic though is that if I was dysphoric, then I couldn’t do much about it. Yeah, terfs would say that I could cope with it with anti-depressants, but my disassociation and sickly feeling was not helped by my anti-depressants. I was at the point of being constantly suicidal and with cutting I ran out of room on my arm and started to go for my legs (because I said that I would never go to my right arm... I was a creative little shit). I was put in an 8 hr a day outpatient program, and they legit kept me there as long as they possibly could before I was sent back to school, before I just went back to self injuring but kept it way more secret that time. I had been getting mental health treatment since 10 and puberty started, with it just getting worse, I was way out of options

I related to a lot of what truscum were saying with my dysphoria, and while they did tell me that they could not ever tell another person that they experience dysphoria or not, that they did relate to some of the things I was saying. One linked me to a list where someone gave a lot of specific symptoms of dysphoria, and boy, did I fit a lot. I also learned how to explain my disassociation. It was the first time I ever related to something when it came to my mental health issues instead of just hearing “yeah these people are just like you” before I didn’t actually relate to them at all. I felt so much relief.

I continued to go to them for advice on dysphoria and it wasn’t anything more, but you start scrolling through and things start to stick. Especially when you already have a lot of internalized transphobia.

“Yeah, why would anyone be trans? If they weren’t suffering like I was, I was at my breaking point to actually start accepting myself, how are they the same?”

It went on from there, and I started to believe what they said. I shared it to one cis person, and that cis person ultimately ended up harassing me because I was trans even after I explained honestly the entire pity story I shared above along with truscum beliefs that you need dysphoria to be trans (this is actually how I finally snapped out of it, thank you fucker, I’m more intolerable now). I mainly shared this shit with cis people in order to try and see me as more tolerable, and honestly, I just wish that I could have surrounded myself with trans people where I didn’t have to feel like I needed to prove a point. I was so vulnerable at that time, and didn’t nearly stand up to cis ignorance as I do today.

I mentioned trans men in the beginning too, and part of the community I was lacking in, was trans men. I would see more positivity for trans woman and nb people. I did and still see lack of support for issues trans men face both with the rest of the trans community and things that are trans man specific. Something I feel like I can relate it to is the bisexual limbo of being too gay for straight people but too straight for gay people. I’m looked down upon by my oppressors, but I’m too privileged to really access my own community. Especially when I identified as straight. It’s isolating, it’s isolating to a point where I would be happy that someone included trans men specifically in their “I hate all men” posts, I would be happy about it. And I know I can’t possibly be the only one.

I don’t have the power to create a community name for trans men where we can all find each other. I don’t have the power to put a name to struggles that trans men face specifically. I know that there’s transmisandry, but that gives everyone who doesn’t know what it is a fight or flight response. While it makes sense, it gives the same impression as calling the biphobia I face as a form of heterophobia.

I’m as proud of this as I am just as proud that I used to shoplift at 14 and believed things that my racist cop father said. I think that the shitty parts of your past self can be shared for some sort of benefit of others and that’s why I’m sharing this. If other trans men would like to add their own experiences, I would encourage it.

[gay-jesus-probably]

Bisexuality didn't "feel right" as a label because you're biphobic and will do anything to distance yourself from bisexuality. Get well soon, the bi community will be here when you're ready.

Are you the raging homophobe anon back for round two or a new guy? ...It doesn’t really matter, you people are all the same.

If you are the same anon, then now I’m extra pissed off at you because do you have any idea how difficult it is to make fun of your messages? You’re making this really hard for me. First you send a five word ask declaring me a homophobe with no details, and it took a lot of thinking to come up with a vaguely funny response to such a lackluster prompt. You’re a really bad improv partner.

And now you send me this shit. Sorry everybody, no jokes today, now I’m actually just fucking furious.

Let me tell you a story, anon. When I was an innocent little twelve year old back in the far of reaches of 2011, I first discovered Tumblr, and soon enough I was learning about different genders and sexualities, and began exploring my own identity. As you already know since you’re sarcastically quoting me talking about my own fucking feelings, I’d been having a minor sexuality crisis for several years at that point, since gay, straight and bisexual were the only label I’d known before then, and none of them fit me. Despite me trying all of them. Multiple times. You condescending piece of shit.All this was resolved by me stumbling across a post defining pansexuality, and that being the first and only sexual identity that’s ever actually felt right for me. It clicked instantly, and has continued to be my sexuality for literally a decade now.

But back when I first started entering the queer community, pansexuality was actually pretty controversial. So was bisexuality. The two were just lumped together actually, because according to the exclusionists back then, bi/pan people are attracted to the opposite sex, and therefor are basically just straight. Actually they rarely cared enough to bother differentiating between bisexual and pansexual people, they just lumped us all in together as a bunch of heteros pretending to be gay for attention and oppressing the real gays. What a bunch of special fucking snowflakes, pretending to be gay for attention. So there I was, a twelve year old queer kid with a brand new identity, being welcomed by a bunch of exclusionists angrily yelling about how I was definitely just a hetero faking it for attention, and being pansexual was Wrong and Bad. But it was okay, because the exclusionists knew better than me. They knew how I really felt, and what my real identity was. They could fix me. I just had to agree with everything they said and become the person they decided I was supposed to be.

I didn’t do that.

Let’s jump forward a few years. I was older, and still perfectly confident in my identity as a pansexual. I hadn’t considered any other parts of my identity. Why would I? I just never really thought much about gender. Then shortly after my fourteenth birthday, I watched a short film online about a trans boy figuring out his identity and working up the courage to come out to his mother. I don’t remember what it was called or most of the details. All I remember was the last scene where the boy and his mother got into an argument about him not feminine enough, which ended with him screaming that he wasn’t a girl. And then I unexpectedly burst into tears because neither was I.

So that was a fun surprise. Once I pulled through that unexpected sobbing breakdown in the middle of the night and re-evaluated my entire life, I realized that yeah. I really wasn’t a girl. I wasn’t a boy either. Fortunately by then I knew that nonbinary people were a thing, so I had plenty of options. I spent awhile feeling things out and experimenting with different labels and pronouns before finally settling on agender and they/them pronouns. Which was great! I felt better than ever, and was confident that I had my identity down and everything would be fine. But everything was not fine. Because I’d been so happy about the biphobia dying down that I hadn’t quite noticed the exclusionists switching targets. Now the nonbinary people were lying. What a bunch of special fucking snowflakes, pretending to be queer for attention. The ones who wanted to medically transition were declared to actually be poor confused trans people who couldn’t get over their internalized transphobia to accept their True Identities. And the rest of us... well, we were just a bunch of cishet special snowflakes playing at being trans for attention, and oppressing the real trans people. I wasn’t agender. I was a cis girl making up fake identities for attention, and calling myself nonbinary was Wrong and Bad. But it was okay, because the exclusionists knew better than me. They knew how I really felt, and what my real identity was. They could fix me. I just had to agree with everything they said and become the person they decided I was supposed to be.

I didn’t do that.

Step forward a few more years, now to eighteen year old me. There’s no dramatic revelations or long struggles this time, just a slow realization. Because I’d been single for years, and I wasn’t bothered by that. I actually enjoyed it. Marriage didn’t sound very appealing. Neither did dating. I’d dated people before, but I wasn’t sure if I actually wanted to; it was just... the thing I was supposed to do. I found people attractive, sure. But I hadn’t wanted to flirt with anyone. Actually, now that I was thinking about it, had I ever felt romantically attracted to anyone? I didn’t even want romance in fiction! So I experimented. Went on some dates just in case age made it more appealing (it didn’t). Began calling myself aromantic, and was pleasantly surprised to find that the longer I used it, the better it felt. It was right.

But once again, the exclusionists were back and even angier than ever. Because now aphobia was in full swing. After all, asexuality wasn’t really queer. It’s just not having sex! It’s basically straight! What a bunch of special fucking snowflakes, pretending to be queer for attention. And the aromantics, oh the aromantics who weren’t asexual were even worse. Because everyone knows that love is what makes us human. How could someone not feel romance? Us aro people weren’t just lying about our identities, we were pretending to not have feelings so that we could get away with using people for sex without commitment. Being aro meant I was an abusive sex crazed monster taking advantage of all the poor innocent allo’s. I wasn’t aromantic. I was a sexual predator making up a fake identity to take advantage of people, and even though I wasn’t actually sleeping around calling myself aro was Bad and Wrong. But it was okay, because the exclusionists knew better than me. They knew how I really felt, and what my real identity was. They could fix me. I just had to agree with everything they said and become the person they decided I was supposed to be.

And I didn’t fucking do that.

Look. I’ve been here for a very long time, and I have dealt with so many versions of exclusionist bullshit. Every aspect of my identity has been met with random fucking strangers online smugly informing me that I was wrong about myself and they were right. And that’s just the ones that wanted me to pretend to be something else; about half of the exclusionists didn’t make any attempts at conversion therapy, and instead skipped straight to suicide baiting. I’m not even getting into the actual homophobes I’ve had to deal with, or the TERF’s that have come after me under the assumption that I’m a trans woman. My point is, I’m pretty fucking used to this sort of thing.

This just hurts a little more, because like I said earlier, the first round of exclusionism I faced was just expanded biphobia. And the bi/pan community banded together in the face of that. We weren’t the exact same identities, but we were being treated the same, and we were similar enough that nobody really minded the difference. It was wonderful. Bi and pan people were a tightly knit group, and that was a sense of community I desperately needed when I was young. I’ve been seeing this coming for awhile. There’s been increasing amounts of bi people getting drawn in by exclusionist bullshit, and I’ve seen anti-pansexual sentiment growing. I just... really hoped it wouldn’t get this far. It’s sad, y’know? It feels like losing an old friend. I’m really disappointed that you think trying to force people out of their community is right. It’s fucking pathetic, and I hope that someday you’ll rediscover basic compassion and realize how much damage you’re doing to yourself and others. This sort of thing doesn’t help the bisexual community. It drives people away. It’s like the damage that TERF’s have done to the lesbian community; this sort of thing poisons the whole well. I hope you re-evaluate what you’re doing and find a more healthy mindset.

...But also at the same time: Who the fuck do you think you are? Take your condescending bullshit and shove it directly up your ass you fucking waste of oxygen. How the fuck dare you. Do you realize the fucking audacity it takes to claim to know someone's identity better than they do? You self centered egotistical douchebag. Your parents should feel ashamed for having raised such an utter failure of a human being. I’d tell you to go fuck yourself, but I can already tell you beat off twice a day to how fucking clever you think you are. If you ever darken my inbox again you’d better be damn sure you keep it anonymous, because if I find you I’ll kick your fucking teeth in, you smug piece of shit.

[cuntess-carmilla]

D0n’t r3bl0g

I’ll preface this with three statements:

Don’t reblog this. Yes, I know it’s in the title of the post but you bitches can’t read.

I feel compassion towards the people who up until today trusted her, and I’d be a hypocrite to act like I’m all knowing and infallible considering I excused her behavior for a long time too and enabled her as well. I understand, in particular, why bi woc would cling to someone like her and have an impulse to protect her, for both who she is and the content she provided.

There’s a lot to be said about her antiblackness, but me being non-Black, not having had exactly the firmest condemnation of it at the time, and many of the people she’s disappointed today being Black wlw, I don’t feel comfortable being the one to expand on that. I’m only mentioning it briefly in this point for the sake of acknowledging that that’s an issue too.

That said, it’s my opinion that Navya’s “reach” (for lack of a better word) on this website would’ve been lesser if she had been properly held accountable for her constant blatant lesbophobia.

Again, I’m not angry at anyone other than her for the most part, and I feel sad for the people who trusted her and are hurting over this, so please don’t take this as me “calling out” anyone or anything alike. Again pt 2, I enabled and excused her lesbophobia for a while too, so I’d be a hypocrite to chastise anyone for that.

The thing is, biphobic lesbians sadly did give her enough genuine ammunition to claim biphobia at the smallest criticism of her lesbophobia, but she really was (and I’m sure still is) a raging lesbophobe and I started to feel uncomfortable with her by the last bunch of months we were mutuals, but was too much of a coward to openly acknowledge it, as well as too scared that I was being a Delusional Hysterical Dyke.

I don’t fucking know why I let it slide so much, even as her lesbophobia personally made me hate myself as a lesbian to the point of her adding into my suicidality, but she really was going around saying countless times shit like “Thank God I only talk to bi and straight woc” clearly in reference and reaction to lesbian anything. Saying “I only talk to bi woc” is one thing and that I can understand (even though she would’ve indirectly bitten my head off if I said the same as a lesbian lol) but adding the straight women into it makes it a different type of statement. I seriously don’t know why I kept my mouth shut on that, it’s not something I would’ve allowed to slide from anyone else.

I started to see her insane levels of egotism, pettiness, cowardice and arrogance whenever I made posts discussing my own hurt as a lesbian, things as “casual” and brief as “I hate being a dyke lmao” in reference to intracommunity lesbophobia triggering me, and she’d immediately start to mirror everything I said but about herself as bisexual. Which, obviously feeling self-hatred as a bi woman and feeling hated within spaces that should be the most accepting towards her is a real and valid feeling, but she started to replicate my exact phrasing after a while and would almost always make that kind of comment indirectly right after I made mine as if she was always responding to me.

In general she would post a lot of shit mirroring mine in that way or vagueblog about my commentary on intracommunity lesbophobia. This chick went as far as to (correctly) point out that biphobique was pushed out of this website via biphobic harassment specifically, but when Yole being pushed out similarly (back when she identified as a lesbian) was brought up in conjunction to that, she brushed it off as it being because she was a Black wlw, which she directly named as being the one thing she had “in common” with biphobique, intentionally obfuscating that Yole was pushed out via specifically lesbophobic harassment mainly perpetrated by bi women, just like biphobique’s biphobic harassment was mainly perpetrated by lesbians. Nope, it was just because she’s a Black wlw, her (at the time self-identified) lesbianism specifically had NOTHING to do with it, but biphobia specifically did have everything to do with the other case. Because lesbophobia is not that big a deal and no one hates lesbians specifically for being lesbians, only for being wlw in general, but bi women are hated specifically for being bi women instead. Apparently.

Every time I tried to make any post addressing intracommunity lesbophobia she’d make yet another type of vague post (having a much larger following than me) redirecting the attention towards “But bi women...!” which, AGAIN, is obviously an important thing to discuss, but can we fucking discuss lesbophobia for once without having the spotlight stripped from us for five fucking minutes? Or is that too much to ask?

It happened with shit such as me begging to please stop spreading (the misreading of?) a statistic that while correctly assessing the insane levels of abuse bi women face, also painted lesbians as facing significantly less abuse than cis straight women. In the context of this stupid fucking website in which I have had to see posts about how lesbians are privileged over bi AND STRAIGHT women all the fucking time and how we’re supposedly never fucking abused and WE alone are to blame for the abuse bi women face.

It happened with me discussing that lesbian self-hatred comes 99% of the time not from us liking women, but from us NOT liking men, which in another vague post she deemed as me saying that “bi women benefit from being attracted to men” when that was not what I said at all. I never even mentioned bi women specifically until I had to clear that up. I begged in one (1) post for people to extend the same level of solidarity to us that they demand from us, I begged people to see us as vulnerable human beings who have Feelings and hurt too, and she made a victim of herself on another vague post in response.

Everything always had to be about her and what mattered to her specifically. Which, fine in your personal life, but let the rest do the fucking same if that’s how you’re gonna be too. It wasn’t just that she had to always divert attention back to herself but created an environment in which it was seen as horrendous for lesbians to behave with 1% of the same self-priority.

Honestly, being around her as a lesbian felt like constantly walking on eggshells and increased my internalized lesbophobia exponentially. I saw in real time her influence turning other bi women into vocal lesbophobes thinking that shit was Radical. She and the people who supported her lesbophobia reinforced SO MUCH of the sentiment of Apologize For Being A Lesbian At Every Turn OR ELSE...! that’s so prevalent everywhere in which dykes dare to breathe.

But few people took it seriously, and those few people who took it seriously, especially Black lesbians, were painted as vile biphobes, no matter how careful they were to not fall into biphobia in their critiques of her lesbophobia.

I still see the impact of her widespread lesbophobia in this website to this day and very soon after I ceased any sort of contact with her (which was when I left Tumblr in early 2019) I came to terms with the fact that she’s a raging lesbophobe and stopped being too found of her memory, to say the least.

I wish so badly we could all take lesbophobia more seriously rather than, as per usual literally everywhere in the world, seeing claims of lesbophobia as dykes just being our delusional hysterical cunt selves always crying wolf. And I wish too that biphobic lesbians hadn’t given her all the excuse to claim biphobia whenever she was being rightfully criticized over her lesbophobia. What a way to dig your own graves you dumb bitches.

[sexedforbiguys]

Internalized homophobia and biphobia: what are they? – Sex Ed for Bi Guys

Published August 27, 2020.

This is the SFW/censored version of this post. You can view the uncensored version on a sexually-explicit blog here on Pillowfort.

Content warning: examples of internalized homophobia and biphobia, homophobic slurs.

I’ve been wanting to write about our mental health for some time, and internalized homophobia and biphobia are a good starting point. Homophobia is negative attitudes and stereotypes towards people with same-sex attractions, same-sex romantic relationships, and sex stuff people of the same gender do: think of the ickiness some people feel seeing two guys kiss. On top of this, we also have to deal with bullshit that gay guys don’t face. Biphobia is similar to homophobia, but towards people who are attracted to multiple genders. It’s the old: “we’re just on our way to gay town”; “I’d never date a bi guy”; “you have to choose”; etc. Homophobia and biphobia become internalized when we start to believe what we’ve been hearing our whole lives, when the fear of people’s reactions takes root, and when self-doubt and self-hate rear their ugly heads.

Internalized homophobia and what it feels like

Internalized homophobia makes you wish you were straight. It can lead to denial. It makes you feel you don’t deserve the same things “normal” people get because of your desire or love for men. It can sound like that:

You wish you were “normal”, and you even started hating yourself. When the other guys started accusing Rob of looking at their d**ks in the showers, you called him a f*g – because you were looking at their d**ks too.

Things are better now, but you were walking downtown and you saw two guys kiss. It was so weird, even though you’ve been dreaming of kissing your best friend. You hooked up with a guy from Grindr, but you were clear: no kissing, no hugging, just sex. But the moment you blew your load, you wanted out. Your skin crawled as you walked home, and you felt hollow.

Now, the sex is good, but that’s all you want from guys – there’s no way you’d fall in love with one. Your profile says masc-for-masc; you’re not like those over-the-top, flamboyant guys. You wish they’d tone it down, they give everyone the wrong impression. Seriously, what’s the idea of making your entire life about being gay, with the rainbows and the parades? It’s making everyone uncomfortable.

Internalized biphobia and what it feels like

Internalized biphobia is even more insidious. It starts by feeding on the ignorance those around you have been cultivating about being bisexual, pansexual or polysexual.

All you know is gay or straight. Sure, you think of other guys, but fucking girls feels amazing! You couldn’t possibly be gay; you just wish you had this guy’s body.

Or you’ve always been into other guys, you can’t be having feelings for that woman you just met. Anyway, everyone says you have to choose, maybe it’s just a phase. Maybe watching the right kind of porn will help you “choose”.

And once you think you know the truth about yourself, it tells you that maybe you’re wrong, or that it’s not such an important part of you.

Just settle with your new wife and you don’t have to bother about liking guys anymore. Or just say you’re gay so you don’t get the weird comments from your gay friends. You’ve always preferred guys after all, and you don’t want to deal with what they would think of you if you got a girlfriend. For all you know, maybe you’re just faking being attracted to women.

Or you’ve always seen yourself with a wife and kids and a family; even if you have these sexual desires for guys, your sexuality is nobody’s business but your own. Anyhow, your wife would be right to be angry if you told her you’re bi: that’s not what she signed up for, and it’s normal she’d worry about you being gay if she saw your porn.

You talked, and it’s kinda okay? You’ve been thinking of coming out, but you’re not really into labels, and people all get the wrong ideas when they hear a guy’s bisexual. Yet you end up being one of the 12% of bi men who come out to most of the important people in their lives; you’re finally done with that shit. But lately, you haven’t really been thinking about women, just guys… Are you gay after all? Oh, that girl who walked by is hot; you’re good.

This cool gay guy and you have been flirting – you think? – but what if he thinks you aren’t gay enough, or that there’s something he could never give you? Hey, he’s bi too! Wait, what if he leaves you for a woman someday? You’re not too sure about that.

Now it’s been years, and you love being bi! But that pansexual friend you had in college just got married, she was probably straight after all… That singer just came out as bisexual, but you bet he’ll say he’s gay in a couple of years; all the celebrities end up doing that, it’s so disappointing. And being bi is trendy with young people today. You wish you had another friend who’s bi, but they’re all gay or straight. Oh wow, your friend that you’ve known for years just said he’s not just into women! You had no idea, how come he didn’t say something sooner? He’s known for a long time that you’re bi after all.

It’s not all of that for everyone

I hope you’re not thinking or feeling all of what I just wrote. For many of us, internalized homophobia and biphobia are subtle, and only a few of these thoughts poison us, especially when we’ve worked towards accepting ourselves. Also, some of these beliefs can be there for reasons other than internalized oppressions. For example, many people have valid reasons to not want to label themselves: maybe the words feel too limiting. Or some people are private and feel that aspects of a sexuality they haven’t touched in a long time, or only when they watch porn and masturbate, belongs to them.

But internalized homophobia and biphobia hide in our blind spots and in our subconscious – it’s their thing, that’s what they do. So do some introspection. What are ways you think the internalized oppressions are still impacting you? Healing starts with developing an awareness that these exist within you. Still, although many of us have overcome our internalized homophobia, I have yet to meet a bi, pan or polysexual person who doesn’t occasionally struggle with internalized biphobia – so it’s probably in there somewhere.

My next article will talk about overcoming internalized homophobia and biphobia, but I don’t want to leave you hanging after stirring that shit up. This article and this video offer helpful suggestions, like reading books with bi characters or learning not to second-guess your feelings. Another important way of taking care of yourself is to connect with other people like you. If you haven’t already, check out r/BisexualMen on Reddit and maybe join our Discord chat server. You might discover how much of a weight is off your shoulders when you talk about your sexuality with other bi, pan and polysexual guys like it’s the most normal thing in the world.

***

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Check out all Sex Ed for Bi Guys posts here, including articles such as “Am I bi?”, Dating men, women, and nonbinary folks, and Butt sex 101.

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[deadlymodern]

1, 14, and 17 :)

① Who/what made you start questioning?

You know what? I can’t exactly pinpoint that!

I’ve had many experiences and red flags since I was really young. But because of compulsory heterosexuality and biphobia (both internalized biphobia and from people around me), I kept on shoving my sporadic doubts back inside.

Let’s just say I have been questioning myself ever since I can remember existing. It just culminated after I actually fell in love with a woman. 

①④ "How did they not realize i was gay" moments?

Before I went to high school (my high school was known in that part of the city as the School of the Gays, so you know how that went), I went to a very preppy school. Everyone was so fucking straight, it’s laughable at how oblivious they (and I) were.

I’d bend over backwards to make my best girl friends gifts, I’d write them poetry and draw their portraits during Maths classes. And they’d just think it was so cute kfdfldlddlf. 

One big memorable red flag, though, was when me and one of my friends were at a party sitting in the sofa and I just felt the urge to hug her. We usually hugged but this time I felt the need to cuddle, basically, throwing my leg over her and getting comfy. She laughed, but then said “lol why are you acting like a lesbian today”. I WENT LIKE OOP.

①⑦ Talk about your first pride!

Let’s rewind: It was 2016, I was 18 years old, I was in love with a girl (let’s call her Jasmine, idk) and was still in the closet for my family. 

Me, as a fresh little gay mess wanted to attend the parade more than anything. I mean, I live in São Paulo and São Paulo Pride Parade was considered the biggest in the world! But it was so freaking cold and I was feeling so so sick, I was taking antibiotics and shit. 

I was really sad to not be able to go, but Jasmine and our friend in common kept instigating me to go out because “it was supposed to be an important day”. OK? I took more medication, put on some rainbow shit and stealthily got out of the house.

Now, let me tell you something: São Paulo Pride 2016 received the Sense8 Netflix Show cast and they recorded a fucking SCENE FROM THE SHOW LIVE WHILE WE ALL WERE THERE. Can you... Can you imagine this? I mean, just watch this scene and picture the freshly out of the closet person I was in there. I cried so fucking hard man, the whole parade was great. Seeing the cast was amazing, watching them record the scene was amazing.

And then, my friend started recording me. I was like “whachu doing?”. When I see, ‘Jasmine’ is kneeling down in the middle of the freaking crowd with a ring box, formally asking me to be her girlfriend. I swear. (We take dating proposals quite seriously/formally in Brazil tbh). So that’s why both wanted me to attend so bad. She had bought rings ;-; 

I mean. Mate, I cherish that day so much.

Shoutout to Jasmine, we sucked together, but we were cute before that x

I’m so fucking sorry this is so long, who knew I had so much to say... I did, I’m sorry.

Thank you for asking, nonny! x

[wetookanoath]

Can I see some post breakup kiss?

This… got out of hand, I’m so sorry. Based on this kiss prompt list. TW: There’s a conversation about internalized biphobia, and it kinda has some angst here and there. Edited by @chaostheoryy ~

(Read on AO3)

Shane froze at the sight in front of him. He frowned, not sure of what to do next. Ryan was sitting on the ground outside his building, probably waiting for Shane to buzz him in.

The man hadn’t seen him just yet. Shane could easily turn around and lose himself in the city, maybe go hide in someone else’s apartment. Scott would probably let him stay the night without Shane actually having to tell him what was wrong. But his feet didn’t move in either direction.

What was Ryan doing in the cold, sitting on the ground like a lost child waiting for his parents to pick him up? Shane swallowed, finally deciding to face whatever was coming.

“Ryan.” He called. The man looked up at him immediately, standing up so fast he seemed to get dizzy.

Shane sighed, walking towards him as his ex-boyfriend tried to hold his stance, one hand lingering near his forehead. 

“Are you okay?” Shane said, taking him by the shoulders.

Ryan looked at him. His big eyes said nothing but the same story as two months ago and Shane was tired of hearing it, tired of being told he wasn’t enough. Ryan had one hundred and a million doubts he couldn’t solve with Shane at his side. He bit his bottom lip, letting go of Ryan before taking out his keys.

“Uh, I just— I wanted to talk to you.” Ryan answered while Shane looked at his keys to avoid making eye contact. “Shane, can— can we talk?”

“Sure.” He sighed. “Step into my office.” He signaled inside, opening the door to the lobby and the stairs.

They walked in silence towards the elevator, but Shane’s heart closed his throat. He couldn’t have Ryan upstairs. It would drive him crazy to have the couch where he was sure he was going to cry later today smelling of him. Slowly, he walked to the stairs, taking two then sitting.

“Uh,” Ryan frowned, but followed his lead and sat down. “Okay…”

Neither said anything for a while, just dwelled in the presence of the other.

For two months, Shane thought of many things he wanted to tell Ryan. He had wanted to say he was sorry, even when he knew fully well and had been told he had done nothing wrong; he wanted to beg to be taken back at one point, and later as the weeks passed, he wanted to say hurtful things and make Ryan feel as empty as he had felt when December came and he was alone in his apartment, packing to go see his parents with tears in his eyes.

It had been too hard to say something. And now, he was in need of words.

“I think… I think I owe you an explanation for my actions.” Ryan said after a long minute or two.

Shane looked at Ryan for a few seconds, then at his own feet. He wasn’t sure what the man was talking about, if he was talking about their break up two months ago or his happy social media life during their time apart. Hell, it was really a surprise to see him here, looking like this.

He looked like he hadn’t slept in weeks, stopped eating well, and was in desperate need of a shower and a cup of hot cocoa. Los Angeles wasn’t as cold as Schamburg, but right now it felt like Iceland.

“What do you mean?” Shane murmured.

Ryan cleared his throat. Shane could feel his eyes on him. “I mean… “ He sighed. “When…when I asked you to take a break. I told you I needed space.”

“Yeah.”

“Well, I’ve… I’ve had a lot of time to think and a lot of space. Like, way too much space…” He trailed off. Shane finally looked at him, trying to stay strong for whatever the hell Ryan had in mind now. “And I just…” 

The man looked away. Shane’s eyes followed his hands and he noticed Ryan was playing with a stray thread on the sleeve of his jacket. 

He blinked a couple of times.

“I was afraid.” Ryan said, looking up at Shane’s face. He nodded, unsure of what else to do or say. “Because you are the first man I’ve ever…” He swallowed. “Being with you took me out my most selfish comfort zone, which was saying I’m bisexual and only daring to date women so nobody would ever…say anything bad to me.”

“Uh.” 

Shane looked away, clenching his jaw as he tried to calm his nerves before he could punch Ryan in the face. If he started an actual fight with the man, he didn’t stand a chance. But god-fucking-dammit, he wanted to.

“Please, don’t misunderstand this, I know I’m fucking up even more, It’s just…” He said quickly. Shane looked back at him again, his jaw still tense. Ryan looked away. Maybe his expression gave away just how angry he was feeling. “I know, I know— Internalized biphobia, all that jazz. I know.”

“To the point, Ryan.”

“I’m sorry.” He said, letting out what sounded like a sob. Shane sighed and looked away. “I’m so sorry, I know I was wrong… I should have told you what was actually happening, but I thought that if I tried to get back to the way I was a year ago, maybe the guilt would go away.”

“Guilt?” 

Ryan nodded.

“I felt like I was doing something I shouldn’t.” He said. “Like, everyone expects me to be one way, but every day together I was the complete opposite of that, and I was afraid I was disappointing someone.” His eyes filled with tears and Shane’s throat closed again. “But I was so happy. I liked who I was becoming and— all that. How much we laughed together and how it was becoming easier to be myself. But…” 

He swallowed again. His nose had turned red and a tear crossed his left cheek. Shane held his breath, restraining himself from drying it.

“The more open we became, the more people, like— on Instagram and Twitter, started to notice. I got terrified of what would come. A… Guy I studied with in high school sent me a DM one day, asking if you were my boyfriend and I froze. I couldn’t just answer yes, and it wasn’t— it wasn’t because of you, I swear—”

“Oh, Jesus Christ.” 

Shane moved, trying to stand before Ryan noticed. Ryan immediately took his arm. Shane thought of pushing it away but didn’t. 

“Shane!”

Shane just kept looking at the ground, waiting for Ryan to finish whatever speech he had planned for today. His heart actually hurt. Not just in the squeezing kind of way either. No, it actually hurt every time it hit his ribcage and Ryan just kept talking. And maybe he shouldn’t be listening to this with an empty stomach because it felt like it was eating itself and it burned.

“Shane, I mean it— It’s not you, it really isn’t it,” Ryan insisted, “It’s different for you. You already went through this when you were younger. But I hid it away for so long… and I thought I could just bury it and be happy. I should have taken care of it before but I didn’t. And I hurt you because of that.”

Slowly, he looked back. Shane wondered how many nights Ryan had spent awake thinking of all this, rehearsing his words and trying to figure out the right thing to say. He looked sincere, crying as he was. Hell, he looked scared. 

It was Shane’s turn to swallow. He closed his eyes, trying to get his own lonely nights out of his head as he searched for the best way to put his hurt on display.

Ryan was right: he had hurt him. If he had known all this, maybe they wouldn’t have broken up. Maybe he could have helped Ryan find a better way to deal with all the baggage. It was shitty, to be so scared to be yourself and he understood it well.

“There’s one thing I don’t understand, Ryan.” Shane hoped his anger would go the hell away now that he was thinking straight. “Why didn’t you say anything that day? You just said you needed space and to me, it sounded like you wanted an out from me.” He swallowed. “I could have helped you. We could have figured it out together, why—?”

“I don’t know. I don’t. I just— I wasn’t even sure of what I was feeling back then, Shane.” He confessed, letting go of Shane’s arm and drying his tears. “Look, I… I know this sounds like a shitty excuse—”

“Okay.” Shane said. His jaw tensed again as he licked his lips and took a deep breath. “Thank you for telling me this, I guess.” He looked at Ryan. The man blinked a couple of times. “Why are you here?”

Ryan’s mouth opened. He wanted to say something but he couldn’t find the words. He looked down for a few seconds, then swallowed. Holy shit, were they a mess. They’d never been like this before, not even during the first awkward weeks of their friendship when they were getting to know the other.

It was like the way Shane and Ryan used to anticipate what the other was thinking never happened, as if Shane had dreamed it all along and this was all it really was: silence and cold between them. Ryan’s eyes showed so much despair it was unnerving.

“I wanted to see you.” Ryan said finally. 

Shane sighed.

“Just that?”

When the man looked at him, Shane tried his best to smile. It probably looked crooked. He was trying his damn best not to burst into tears on Ryan’s shoulder. So instead of crying, Shane got closer until their arms were touching. He saw Ryan’s eyes open wider, lips parting, but this time he just pressed against his face.

His eyes were closed now. Shane took a few seconds to admire the view and finally gave up, closing his eyes and sinking into the kiss he had prayed for two months.

It was such a strange kiss, somehow unreal.

Shane had dreamed of kissing Ryan so many times during the months they had spent away from each other. And every time it had been empty and had left him crying. This kiss was warm, but Ryan’s lips were dry and chapped. He probably hadn’t been applying chapstick like Shane had told him to a million times before. 

One of them shivered, or maybe they both did. Shane opened his mouth and moved his head to the left, deepening the kiss without using his tongue. His ex-boyfriend didn’t try anything either. They kept moving their lips as slow as any first timer would and it told Shane everything he needed to know about this situation: space was no longer necessary and maybe things could change for the good. 

The kiss tasted of hope and long nights thinking of each other, the yearning of each other’s arms, of kisses so intense yet sweet that give another meaning to the act itself.

Shane had missed Ryan and it felt good to know he had been missed as well.

They needed air eventually, and maybe another talk. Shane leaned his forehead on Ryan’s, listening to his heavy breathing and letting his fingers slowly caress the hair on the back of his neck. He couldn’t open his eyes, see what was lost and then pretend like if he could keep going. This kiss hadn’t felt like goodbye, but it wasn’t something he wanted to say again so soon.

“Take me back.” Ryan murmured against his lips. Shane opened his eyes without actually looking at his face. Instead, he was looking at his lap and the stray thread on Ryan’s sleeve. “Please? I know I’m a mess, but I think I’m doing better at last.”

“Just like that?”

“No.” He swallowed. Shane pulled back to look at Ryan’s face. “I know it didn’t look that way, but these past few months I was miserable… thought there was no way I could come back. Then I stopped acting like an idiot, started all over again.” He smiled. It was tiny but it made him look more like the man Shane had actually fallen for. “And there’s something more.”

“What is it?”

“I love you.” He said, sighing before allowing his smile to brighten. Shane stopped breathing, recognizing it was the first time Ryan ever said the words to him. “I… every day, I fall deeper for you. And I think you may feel the same. I want to be with you, Shane.”

Shane licked his lips again, looking up at Ryan. 

“You wanna come up? I think we should talk about this further.”

“Uh.” Ryan nodded. “Okay, yes.”

Finally, Shane smiled back. It was the first time in a long time he did so too. His cheeks almost hurt and his eyes were filled with tears he didn’t think he had anymore. But he didn’t cry again. He just leaned on Ryan and kissed him.

This time it wasn’t a surprise, not something that wasn’t supposed to be happening. It was a start.

[gettin-bi-bi-bi]

So I told my mom, and she said she accepted me, that she wished I've come to her sooner, but she also said that I needed to take some time to figure things out (implying that perhaps I was confused bc of my internal biphobia I wasn't exactly very forward about it, I couldn't even pronounce the word bisexual to her) I told her that I needed to work on accepting it, not bc I was confused, but bc I still had trouble wrapping my mind about it. She said that that's where I needed to focus, +

+ on accepting myself before I came out to others. That I didn't even needed to come out to others, that it wasn't their business and that if I wanted to, I could, but first I should work on accepting me. She also told me that it was too son for me to put on a label bc who knows what could happen in the future, maybe I would change my mind to being gay or straight. Of course I told here that could happen, but that she needed to accept that right now I felt, knew, that I'm bi. Still, she +

+ insisted that I first needed to work on accepting that, and on and on about the future. That I could always change my mind bc sexuality isn't a stagnant thing. And so I feel like she said some valid points but at the same time invalidating how I identify now. Because what matters is the now, right? I mean, it's a possibility that I could change my mind but it doesn't feel like that right now and she couldn't understand that. So I gave up and...well. Specially bc she truly believes that+

+ being gay, straight or bi (whatever) is something you realize since you're a kid. There's no other way. And I just... I don't know how to make her see things my way. She won't ever understand and I think it's better if I just leave it be and with time, she realizes that I'm not confused and that I was telling the truth. Still, thank you so much for everything Maddie. At least I finally did it. Even though it makes me doubt about everything again haha.

Well.... I guess it could’ve gone worse but it also could’ve gone way better. The whole “you shouldn’t put a label on it until you [fulfill my completely arbitrary rules that I just pulled out of my ass because I think I know more about your sexuality than you do]” is unfortunately a very common reaction that adults have towards teenagers who come out - especially towards bisexuals.

Your mother doesn’t seem to realise how contradictory she is if she a) thinks you have to have known since you were a child but b) are too young to know your label now.

I think she was in some way trying to take some pressure off you by saying you don’t have to come out to anyone and that it’s nobody’s business but she really shot too far by saying you have to wait until you are certain or that you have to figure things out first. You are right that she should just accept your current statement that you are bi as a fact and not as something that’s debatable. If you are uncertain then that’s something you may choose to talk about but it’s not somebody else’s place to determine that you are “unsure” about your sexuality. That’s some bullshit that many bisexual people have to face again and again and it is invalidating and hurtful and, you guessed it, biphobic.

“Who knows what could happen in the future” is a terrible argument to make against choosing a label now because yeah... nobody knows what happens in the future so how about not overthinking that and focussing on the present instead? And right now you feel bisexual so that’s what you are.

Maybe you want to bring it up again with your mother at some point and explain how her reaction has made you feel invalidated and hurt. You shouldn’t have to be in this situation but unfortunately the world leaves queer kids to do more emotional labour than they should be exposed to. So maybe, if you want and feel ready, you can talk to her again. Or write things down in a letter. I think you articulated the issues very well in this message so maybe if you write something similar to you mother she might understand.

But it’s also totally fine to decide that this isn’t the right time to talk about it further. You don’t owe her any explanations and you can also just not talk to her about it anymore. You’ve already did a very brave thing today and you should be proud of yourself. I am proud of you. And I can promise you that coming out going to become so much easier.

Maddie

[star-anise]

do you have any sources on the claims you made? im always willing to change my stance if you have legitimate backing for it haha

So first, I’m sorry for blowing up at you the way that I did. I’m not proud that I reacted in such a kneejerk, aggressive fashion. Thank you for being open to hearing what I have to say. I’m sorry for mistaking you for a TERF, and I’m sorry my response has caused other people to direct their own hostility towards you.

So, here’s the thing. “You can’t call bi women femmes” is pretty intrinsically a radfem thing to say, and I am deeply opposed to letting radfems tell me what to do. I’m trying to write this during a weekend packed with childcare and work. I’ll try to hit all the high notes.

The one thing I am having trouble finding is the longass post I talked about in my reply, that was a history of butch/femme relationships in lesbian bars, which had frequent biphobic asides and talked about “the lesbophobic myth of the bi-rejecting lesbian”; the friend who reblogged it without reading it thoroughly has deleted it, and I can’t find it on any of the tags she remembers looking at around that time. If anyone can find it, I’ll put up a link.

As far as possible, I’m linking to really widely accessible sources, because you shouldn’t intrinsically trust a random post on Tumblr as secret privileged knowledge. People have talked about this at length in reputable publications that your local library either has, or can get through interlibrary loan; you can look up any of the people here, read their work, and decide for yourself. This is a narrative of perspectives, and while I obviously have a perspective, many people disagree with me. At the end of the day, the only reason I need for calling bi women femmes is that You Are Not The Boss Of Me. There is no centralized authority on LGBT+ word usage, nor do I think there should be. Hopefully this post will give you a better sense of what the arguments are, and how to evaluate peoples’ claims in the future.

I looked up “butch” and “femme” with my library’s subscription to the Oxford English Dictionary because that’s where you find the most evidence of etymology and early use, and found:

“Femme” is the French word for “woman”.  It’s been a loanword in English for about 200 years, and in the late 19th century in America it was just a slangy word for “women”, as in, “There were lots of femmes there for the boys to dance with”

“Butch” has been used in American English to mean a tough, masculine man since the late 19th century; in the 1930s and 1940s it came to apply to a short masculine haircut, and shortly thereafter, a woman who wore such a haircut. It’s still used as a nickname for masculine cis guys–my godfather’s name is Martin, but his family calls him Butch. By the 1960s in Britain, “butch” was slang for the penetrating partner of a pair of gay men.

Butch/femme as a dichotomy for women arose specifically in the American lesbian bar scene around, enh, about the 1940s, to enh, about the 1960s. Closet-keys has a pretty extensive butch/femme history reader. This scene was predominantly working-class women, and many spaces in it were predominantly for women of colour. This was a time when “lesbian” literally meant anyone who identified as a woman, and who was sexually or romantically interested in other women. A lot of the women in these spaces were closeted in the rest of their lives, and outside of their safe spaces, they had to dress normatively, were financially dependent on husbands, etc. Both modern lesbians, and modern bisexual women, can see themselves represented in this historical period.

These spaces cross-pollinated heavily with ball culture and drag culture, and were largely about working-class POC creating spaces where they could explore different gender expressions, gender as a construct and a performance, and engage in a variety of relationships. Butch/femme was a binary, but it worked as well as most binaries to do with sex and gender do, which is to say, it broke down a lot, despite the best efforts of people to enforce it. It became used by people of many different genders and orientations whose common denominator was the need for safety and discretion. “Butch” and “femme” were words with meanings, not owners.

Lesbianism as distinct from bisexuality comes from the second wave of feminism, which began in, enh, the 1960s, until about, enh, maybe the 1980s, maybe never by the way Tumblr is going. “Radical” feminism means not just that this is a new and more exciting form of feminism compared to the early 20th century suffrage movement; as one self-identified radfem professor of mine liked to tell us every single lecture, it shares an etymology with the word “root”, meaning that sex discrimination is at the root of all oppression.

Radical feminism blossomed among college-educated women, which also meant, predominantly white, middle- or upper-class women whose first sexual encounters with women happened at elite all-girls schools or universities. Most of these women broke open the field of “women’s studies” and the leading lights of radical feminism often achieved careers as prominent scholars and tenured professors.

Radical feminism established itself as counter to “The Patriarchy”, and one of the things many early radfems believed was, all men were the enemy. All men perpetuated patriarchy and were damaging to women. So the logical decision was for women to withdraw from men in all manner and circumstances–financially, legally, politically, socially, and sexually. “Political lesbianism” wasn’t united by its sexual desire for women; many of its members were asexual, or heterosexual women who decided to live celibate lives. This was because associating with men in any form was essentially aiding and abetting the enemy.

Look, I’ll just literally quote Wikipedia quoting an influential early lesbian separatist/radical feminist commune: “The Furies recommended that Lesbian Separatists relate “only (with) women who cut their ties to male privilege” and suggest that “as long as women still benefit from heterosexuality, receive its privileges and security, they will at some point have to betray their sisters, especially Lesbian sisters who do not receive those benefits”“

This cross-pollinated with the average experience of WLW undergraduates, who were attending school at a time when women weren’t expected to have academic careers; college for women was primarily seen as a place to meet eligible men to eventually marry. So there were definitely women who had relationships with other women, but then, partly due to the pressure of economic reality and heteronormativity, married men. This led to the phrase LUG, or “lesbian until graduation”, which is the kind of thing that still got flung at me in the 00s as an openly bisexual undergrad. Calling someone a LUG was basically an invitation to fight.

The assumption was that women who marry men when they’re 22, or women who don’t stay in the feminist academic sphere, end up betraying their ideals and failing to have solidarity with their sisters. Which seriously erases the many contributions of bi, het, and ace women to feminism and queer liberation. For one, I want to point to Brenda Howard, the bisexual woman who worked to turn Pride from the spontaneous riots in 1969 to the nationwide organized protests and parades that began in 1970 and continue to this day. She spent the majority of her life to a male partner, but that didn’t diminish her contribution to the LGBT+ community.

Lesbian separatists, and radical feminists, hated Butch/Femme terminology. They felt it was a replication of unnecessarily heteronormative ideals. Butch/femme existed in an LGBT+ context, where gays, lesbians, bisexuals, and transgender people understood themselves to have more in common with each other than with, say, cis feminists who just hated men more than they loved women. 

The other main stream of feminist thought at the time was Liberal Feminism, which was like, “What if we can change society without totally rejecting men?” and had prominent figures like Gloria Steinem, who ran Ms magazine. Even today, you’ll hear radfems railing against “libfems” and I’m like, my good women, liberal feminism got replaced thirty years ago. Please update your internal schema of “the enemy”

Lesbian separatism was… plagued by infighting. To maintain a “woman-only” space, they had to kick out trans women (thus, TERFs), women who slept with men (thus, biphobia), women who enjoyed kinky sex or pornography or engaged in sex work (thus, SWERFS) and they really struggled to raise their male children in a way that was… um… anti-oppressive. (I’m biased; I know people who were raised in lesbian separatist communes and did not have great childhoods.) At the same time, they had other members they very much wanted to keep, even though their behaviour deviated from the expected program, so you ended up with spectacles like Andrea Dworkin self-identifying as a lesbian despite being deeply in love with and married to a self-identified gay man for twenty years, despite beng famous for the theory that no woman could ever have consensual sex with a man, because all she could ever do was acquiesce to her own rape.

There’s a reason radical feminism stopped being a major part of the public discourse, and also a reason why it survives today: While its proponents became increasingly obsolete, they were respected scholars and tenured university professors. This meant people like Camille Paglia and Mary Daly, despite their transphobia and racism, were considered important people to read and guaranteed jobs educating young people who had probably just moved into a space where they could meet other LGBT people for the very first time. So a lot of modern LGBT people (including me) were educated by radical feminist professors or assigned radical feminist books to read in class.

The person I want to point to as a great exemplar is Alison Bechdel, a white woman who discovered she was a lesbian in college, was educated in the second-wave feminist tradition, but also identified as a butch and made art about the butch/femme dichotomy’s persistence and fluidity. You can see part of that tension in her comic; she knows the official lesbian establishment frowns on butch/femme divisions, but it’s relevant to her lived experience.

What actually replaced radical feminism was not liberal feminism, but intersectional feminism and the “Third Wave”. Black radical feminists, like Audre Lorde, bell hooks, and Kimberlé Williams Crenshaw, pointed out that many white radical feminists were ignoring race as a possible cause of oppression, and failing to notice how their experiences differed from Black womens’. Which led to a proliferation of feminists talking about other oppressions they faced: Disabled feminists, Latina feminists, queer feminists, working-class feminists. It became clear that even if you eliminated the gender binary from society, there was still a lot of bad shit that you had to unlearn–and also, a lot of oppression that still happened in lesbian separatist spaces.

I’ve talked before about how working in women-only second-wave spaces really destroyed my faith in them and reinforced my belief in intersectional feminism

Meanwhile, back in the broader queer community, “queer” stuck as a label because how people identified was really fluid. Part of it is that you learn by experience, and sometimes the only way to know if something works for you is to try it out, and part of it is that, as society changed, a lot more people became able to take on new identities without as much fear. So for example, you have people like Pat Califia, who identified as a lesbian in the 70s and 80s, found far more in common with gay leather daddies than sex-negative lesbians, and these days identifies as a bisexual trans man.

Another reason radical feminists hate the word “queer”, by the way, is queer theory, which wants to go beyond the concept of men oppressing women, or straights oppressing gays, but to question this entire system we’ve built, of sex, and gender, and orientation. It talks about “queering” things to mean “to deviate from heteronormativity” more than “to be homosexual”. A man who is married to a woman, who stays at home and raises their children while she works, is viewed as “queer” inasmuch as he deviates from heteronormativity, and is discriminated against for it.

So, I love queer theory, but I will agree that it can be infuriating to hear somebody say that as a single (cis het) man he is “queer” in the same way being a trans lesbian of colour is “queer”, and get very upset and precious about being told they’re not actually the same thing. I think that actually, “queer as a slur” originated as the kind of thing you want to scream when listening to too much academic bloviating, like, “This is a slur! Don’t reclaim it if it didn’t originally apply to you! It’s like poor white people trying to call themselves the n-word!” so you should make sure you are speaking about a group actually discriminated against before calling them “queer”. On the other hand, queer theory is where the theory of “toxic masculinity” came from and we realized that we don’t have to eliminate all men from the universe to reduce gender violence; if we actually pay attention to the pressures that make men so shitty, we can reduce or reverse-engineer them and encourage them to be better, less sexist, men.

But since radfems and queer theorists are basically mortal enemies in academia, radical feminists quite welcomed the “queer as a slur” phenomenon as a way to silence and exclude people they wanted silenced and excluded, because frankly until that came along they’ve been losing the culture wars.

This is kind of bad news for lesbians who just want to float off to a happy land of only loving women and not getting sexually harrassed by men. As it turns out, you can’t just turn on your lesbianism and opt out of living in society. Society will follow you wherever you go. If you want to end men saying gross things to lesbians, you can’t just defend lesbianism as meaning “don’t hit on me”; you have to end men saying gross things to all women, including bi and other queer women.  And if you do want a lesbian-only space, you either have to accept that you will have to exclude and discriminate against some people, including members of your community whose identities or partners change in the future, or accept that the cost of not being a TERF and a biphobe is putting up with people in your space whose desires don’t always resemble yours.

Good god, this got extensive and I’ve been writing for two hours.

So here’s the other thing.

My girlfriend is a femme bi woman. She’s married to a man.

She’s also married to two women.

And dating a man.

And dating me (a woman).

When you throw monogamy out the window, it becomes EVEN MORE obvious that “being married to a man” does not exclude a woman from participation in the queer community as a queer woman, a woman whose presentation is relevant in WLW contexts. Like, this woman is in more relationships with women at the moment than some lesbians on this site have been in for their entire lives.

You can start out with really clear-cut ideas about “THIS is what my life is gonna be like” but then your best friend’s sexual orientation changes, or your lover starts to transition, and things in real life are so much messier than they look when you’re planning your future. It’s easy to be cruel, exclusionary, or dismissive to people you don’t know; it’s a lot harder when it’s people you have real relationships with.

And my married-to-a-man girlfriend? Uses “butch” and “femme” for reasons very relevant to her queerness and often fairly unique to femme bi women, like, “I was out with my husband and looking pretty femme, so I guess they didn’t clock me as a queer” or “I was the least butch person there, so they didn’t expect me to be the only one who uses power tools.” Being a femme bi woman is a lot about invisibility, which is worth talking about as a queer experience instead of being assumed to exclude us from the queer community.

[xxfanfiction-emo-trinityxx]

His Smile Will Keep You Safe - Chapter Two

Warnings: biphobia (I guess), mentions of emotional abuse

Word Count: 5 206

Even if you did not want to admit it, you were still shaky from the unexpected encounter with Lars when you were finally home. The whole bus ride over you had fought an internal battle over what to do.

Lars had hurt you in ways no one had ever before, and you had cut all strings to him, for good. But now, going on a several weeks-long tour with him, stuck in a bus every day, being unable to get away?

Yet on the other hand, this was your dream. Going on tour with a band, no matter how big, had been your dream for over ten years now, and you would not allow Lars to ruin this for you. You had promised to never let him ruin anything else for you ever again.

With a sigh you sat down on your bed, elbows resting on your folded legs, face buried in your hands. Lars and you went back a long time. First you had met in high school, and somehow you had ended up going to the same college. That’s where you had fallen in love with him.

Retrospectively, it was still a mystery to you, how you had been able to be in love with someone like him. His mood swings were legendary, he was far too convinced of himself, the first few months you had been in the same college classes, he had managed to completely ignore you, and when he said something to you it had been degrading.

Yet you had been in love. And over time he started to warm up to you. He got friendly, went out of his way for you, turned into the perfect gentleman. And by the beginning of the second year of college you had started dating. You had been as happy as never before in your life, especially considering the ongoing battle with your mental health since you were about fifteen.

For the first time in years, it had felt as if everything was working out the way it was supposed to be. You had a boyfriend who you were in love with, had friends, and even won a photography contest.

But by the end of the second year, it seemed as if luck had left you. Your mental health declined, and soon afterwards you started seeing a therapist, knowing that even with their help the ultimate breakdown was unavoidable. Lars in the meantime seemed to be thriving. He went out almost every night, seemed happier than ever, and spent less and less time with you. In the state of your worsening illness, it made sense to you that he did not want to be around you.

Looking back on it, you should have known earlier that he was cheating. Needless to say that you were beyond heartbroken, when you came into the lecture room, and found him making out with another girl.

He swore he still loved you, that it would never happen again, that he had no idea why he had done it, and being the gentlehearted person you were, you gave him a second chance. This event made you spiral downwards quickly nonetheless. And while you were in hospital to find a good combination of meds to make you feel better, Lars graduated college.

And cheated again.

You had still no clue where you had taken the energy from to throw him out this quickly, and break up with him so cleanly, after you had found out that for months he had had a second girlfriend at the side, especially since you had just been released from the hospital, but you did.

Within half a day you had cleaned your apartment of things he had given to you, stuff he had left over at your place, and all the pictures you had taken together.

But it left scares. The self-esteem of a depressed person is in the gutter anyway, and having the person you thought was the one for life cheat on you did not make anything better at all.

But you recovered. You got better. You fought. Sometimes, when you were about to give up, you remembered that you would not give Lars the satisfaction of knowing that he had destroyed your life, so you kept fighting. You finished college, started getting practical experience, got this job, and now even the offer to go on a tour with bands! Maybe your mental health still was not always perfect, but with the meds, and the occasional meetings with your therapist, the coping mechanisms you had learned, and the support of your family and your boss (who always was very understanding whenever you needed a week off) you were leading a good life. And Lars would not take that away from you, he would not take this tour away from you.

Having come to that conclusion, you took a deep breath, and got up from your bed. Putting on your favourite Beatles album, you started searching for a small suitcase, and began packing.

Deciding on what to pack turned out easier than you had imagined. Thanks to the detailed weather description in the different states this time of the year, you quickly had assembled a small collection of clothes, backed up with shirts and trousers to change into, if the first set got dirty.

Shampoo and shower gel were quickly packed, since you had gotten some sort of solid shampoo, resembling a soap bar, which you were excited to try out. Traveling toothbrush, and toothpaste, body lotion and some facial cream, plus the your favourite basics for make-up, and two pair of different shoes to match cold and hot weather, and the packing was completed.

By now the day had passed, and the sun sunk behind the houses of your neighbourhood, allowing darkness to take its place.

You were still shaking with excitement for the coming day, yet the knowledge of having to spend the following weeks on minimal space with your ex-boyfriend, who happened to be the first and last ex-boyfriend, and therefore the only one, was making you feel sick.

When the clock finally showed 10pm, you decided to go to bed after a quick dinner. Putting an alarm for the following day, you fell asleep surprisingly quickly, even though your mind was still racing, filled with all the amazing things that might happen in the following two months.

~*~

You woke up shortly before your alarm clock was able to tear you out of your sleep. For a moment you wondered where this excited tickling came from that flooded your body the second you opened your eyes, but you immediately remembered. You would go on a tour, as photographer for a band. You would get to travel the country, meet new people, get to know lots and lots of different places.

Never before in your life had you been out of bed quicker. Even though you still had two hours before you had to leave the house, you hurried downstairs into the kitchen. Thankfully your fridge was almost empty, which in any other situation would have been worrisome, but, since you would not be home for a fair while, there was no food that you would have to throw away. Out of the yogurt and the milk you still had, mixed with oatmeal and fruit, you quickly prepared a delicious breakfast that would surely keep you filled for several hours.

After you had eaten, you did the dishes and took a shower. Too unmotivated to blow dry your hair, you dried it off with a towel and pulled the long hair into a ponytail, which resulted in perfectly showing off your shaved side. You still absolutely loved the new haircut. No matter what anyone had to say, for the first time in a long time you felt like yourself. Remembering you had already prepared the clothes for the journey you walked back into your bedroom and dressed into some black jeans, paired off with an old, white band shirt and a hoody.

With still plenty of time left, you carefully applied a little bit of make-up. You did not want to overdo it, since you would probably spend the entire day in a car, but a tinted day cream, and a tiny bit of mascara always made you feel more comfortable. Adding to that was the softly red coloured lip balm you had applied.

Once you were finished, you started making a tour through the house. You started in the bathroom, making sure all the tabs were closed properly. Walking through the rooms you unplugged the electronics, and put the roller shutter halfway down, so it would not be as easy to tell if someone was home. A quick look on your watch told you that you had just enough time to go over to the neighbours to ask them to check your mailbox once a week, so you did that.

And then the journey began.

For one last time you checked if you really had all your documents, your ID, your keys to lock the flat, your money, and your credit card, then you grabbed your suitcase and the bag with the camera, and left the flat, locking the door behind yourself.

With the bus being on time, you arrived at the address, you had been given the day prior, several minutes early. A huge touring bus was standing in front to the house, and Lucas was just in the process of carrying a case, probably containing an instrument, to it.

“Good morning,” you greeted the man, who today had gone without his buns.

“(Y/n), good morning,” he replied, shoving the case into the baggage department, and making sure it was standing securely, “you’re early!”

“9am, wasn’t that the deal,” you asked, handing Lucas the bag with the camera which he was holding his arm out for.

“Yeah, just wouldn’t expect anyone to be on time. The others definitely aren’t. Except for Dallon and Ryan. Just leave the suitcase, and go inside to get to know them,” he suggested.

Handing him your suitcase, you followed his advice, and climbed up the few steps towards the door, which was standing open. The hallway still smelled of plastic, but now there were cases with instruments standing on the floor, making walking almost a little dangerous, especially with how scared you were to accidently fall onto one of the cases and break something. From upstairs you heard the voices of two men, so you followed the sound up the stairs. Here were a couple of suitcases, which probably belonged to the men talking, and to Lucas.

You found the two in the same room in which the meeting had taken place yesterday. The first man you saw was exceptionally tall. His brown hair was styled to stand up on the front and he was wearing a black jacket, paired with a ripped jeans. The other man was standing with his back to you, doodling on the whiteboard. He had blue hair, shaved at one side, longer on the other, just like yours. He too wore jeans, and a red white checked shirt.

Nervously you cleared your throat, causing the two men to spin around to you. The tall one, who had been leaning against the table, had blue eyes, that took you in with surprise, but your attention was entirely fixed on the man at the board. He had turned around as well, and when his chocolate brown eyes found your face, he furrowed his eyes in confusion.

“Hey,” you greeted awkwardly, as you recognized the man who had helped you up yesterday, after you had been pushed to the ground in the rain.

“So we meet again,” the brown eyed one chuckled, his face now showing off a beautiful smile, “how’s the hand?”

The other one turned to him.

“You know each other?”

“Yeah, I had a… let’s call it accident, yesterday, and he was kind enough to help,” you explained, burying your hands in the pockets of your trousers, “Hand’s fine by the way, thanks.”

“That’s good,” the brown eyed man smiled softly.

“I’m Dallon,” the tall one introduced, “I play bass and sing. I guess you’re the photographer?”

“Yup,” you nodded, nervously bouncing on your heels, “Got the job just yesterday.”

“Yeah, Lucas told us. Sorry we didn’t meet any earlier, we just had to do some recording before we’re on the road for the next weeks,” Dallon explained. “I guess you know each other already.”

“Not really,” his bandmate admitted, “I’m Ryan, I play drums.”

“(Y/n), nice to meet you.”

“Dallon, Ryan! Suitcases!” Lucas’ voice boomed through the building.

“That’s our signal,” Dallon chuckled, and walked past you into the corridor, picking up two of the suitcases.

“Can I help something,” you asked, following him, Ryan right behind you.

“No, no, it’s fine,” Dallon assured, but that did not stop you from picking up the last suitcase that was left in the corridor after Ryan also had taken two, and carrying it down the stairs.

In the hallway the cases had disappeared by now, and outside the door, Jay, Charlie, Luis and Lisa were waiting on the pavement next to the bus. Lucas helped you lifting the last suitcase into it, then walked over to the baggage department, and threw the door shut.

“Only one missing now is light guy,” announced Bill, who appeared in the door, pulling it closed and locking it.

“As always,” Ryan mumbled.

Much to your amusement he did not seem too fond of Lars, which was at least a little bit of reassurance.

“His problem, he’s the one who doesn’t get the info,” Lucas decided, “So, as you all know, first stop on the tour is Phoenix tomorrow. We’ll have a drive of about ten hours ahead of us, meaning we should be there by evening, if things go as planned. Any questions?”

Since nobody spoke up, Lucas reached for the handle of the door into the bus, and opened it.

Following the other crew members on board, your eyes widened at the sight. Facing the door stood a small sofa. Next to it was a door, probably leading into the cabin for the driver; and next to that stood another sofa. Turning to your left, you discovered a small kitchen, fully equipped with a fridge, a tiny stove and a small sink. Next to the fridge, facing the sofas, a table with two benches was installed, offering enough space for about four people to sit. Overwhelmed by the sight, you had stopped in your steps, and now hurried to keep up with the others who had walked past the kitchen.

You discovered that there were two tiny bathrooms, one on each side of the bus, and walking through another door, you found yourself surrounded by bunk beds. In total there were twelve, always three on top of each other, on both sides of the bus and in two rows. Due to the nine people in the small space it was very crowded and you quickly stepped aside, as Luis tried throwing his backpack into one of the upper bunks.

“Where do you want to sleep,” Dallon asked, looking over the other people directly at you.

He must have noticed that you felt slightly lost, so he tried to include you.

Helplessly you shrugged.

“You like sleeping high up,” he inquired, earning another shrug from you, “Well, in this case…”

With just one quick movement he basically threw your suitcase into another of the highest bunk beds.

“Congrats, now it’s your job to guard Ryan an me,” he grinned and winked at you, before he sat down on the lowest bunk bed underneath yours, and started opening his suitcase.

After watching all the other doing pretty much the same, you decided to also unpack. Skilfully you manoeuvred yourself to the ladder that lead to your bed, and climbed up. The bunk bed was not very big, and just high enough for you to sit upright. On one end of the matrass was a shelf for the things you had brought, on the other end you found the tiniest wardrobe you had ever seen. Grinning you opened your suitcase and unpacked your all your things, including the hygiene products, into the small wardrobe.

All the others seemed to be finished at about the same time as you, because the chattering started picking up slowly. Curiously you poked your head out of your bunk, interested in seeing who was sleeping where.

As far as you could tell, Luis had gotten the other highest bunk on your side of the bus. Underneath him, Jay and Charlie had claimed their beds. The two highest bunks on the other side of the bus were empty, but in the middle one, facing the opening band, Lisa had unpacked her things, and in the other one Bill was about to put a couple of books into the shelf. Lucas was nowhere in sight, but you guessed he was sleeping underneath of Bill. And last but not least, Ryan and Dallon had chosen the bunks under you; Ryan in the middle, and Dallon closest to the floor.

“Oh, light guy’s here,” Bill suddenly noticed.

You felt your body going into panic mode as you turned your head, and locked eyes with your former boyfriend. He noticed you too, but pretended not to know you, as he threw his bag onto the bed beneath Lisa.

Releasing the breath you had been holding, you looked down and found Ryan grinning up at you.

“Everything alright up there,” he asked happily, obviously glad that the tour was about to begin.

“Yeah, pretty much,” you agreed, grinning back at him.

“Lucas said you take the most amazing pictures of concerts, how come you haven’t been signed to a label yet,” he wondered, blowing a strand of his blue hair out of his eyes.

“Probably because I never tried,” you confessed with a shrug, making him gasp quietly, “Well, it would take confidence to say my pictures are any good, and I sort of lack said confidence most of the time.”

“Well, well, if that’s the only problem, then let’s make sure you build this confidence during the tour,” Ryan suggested, and then disappeared inside his bunk with a grin and a wink towards you.

You sat back up properly again, and were suddenly faced with Lars. He stood closer to you than you liked, his grey eyes boring into you, and for a split second you had the feeling he was looking into the bottom of your soul, just like he always used to do in college.

“Now what are you doing here,” he asked casually.

Oh, he wanted to play the ‘I pretend not to know what happened between us’-game? Alright, probably better than fighting. You just had the slight feeling that it would not stay at that.

“Uhm, Lucas hired me. As a photographer” you explained, secretly a little proud of it. “And you?”

“I’m doing the lights,” he answered immediately, “so, how are things?”

“Good, things are good.”

You really did not feel like giving him too much insight into your life. He had ripped your heart out, admittedly years ago, but you did not want to offer the painfully stuck-together pieces of it for him to rip them apart again.

“Now that’s a lot of detail,” he chuckled. “Tell me more?”

“What kind of details,” you wondered, already having a feeling what he would ask for. “I have a great job, which I love very much. I started doing aikido a few years back, I got my own flat…”

“And do you have a boyfriend?”

There it was. Of course he would ask that.

“Why not a girlfriend,” you retorted, having already been prepared for this question.

You were about to turn away, but he spoke up again.

“Oh come on, we both know you’re not into girls. As much as you were into me, you can’t be into girls,” he spoke, his voice taking the same snarly sound which you remembered so vividly.

So it had not been just your imagination.

“You haven’t seen me in years, you know nothing about me,” you hissed, causing his eyes to widen in surprise.

But the initial surprise quickly disappeared and got replaced by anger, the same type of anger he always got into when you dared disagreeing with him.

He was about to shoot an evil comment your way, maybe worse, when all of a sudden Ryan’s head popped into your view. He must have gotten out of his bunk without you noticing, and now was standing next to Lars, as if he did not notice his aggressive posture. And yet you were pretty certain that he had a good idea about what was happening.

“You two know each other,” he asked innocently, his brown eyes curiously flickering from Lars over to you, where their expression changed slightly, and they took a short look of worry, before pretending this curiosity again.

Even though you had always considered Lars tall, and Ryan was by far not as tall as Dallon, Ryan still was about two inches taller than Lars. Realizing that he had no way of approaching you now without getting into trouble, Lars just shook his head, and left the bunk area, leaving Ryan and you as the only two behind.

“You alright,” he asked.

For some reason it seemed always to be Ryan who had to help you. You hoped to be able to return the favour one day.

“Yeah, thanks,” you mumbled, dangling your legs off the bed.

“You two got history,” Ryan wondered, trying not to sound too interested.

“A little. We- we used to date, back in college. That was years ago,” you admitted, “I guess a part of me will never get rid of the insecurity he caused in me.”

Ryan was about to ask what you meant, but in just that moment the motor of the heavy bus awoke to life, causing the floor to vibrate.

“Maybe we should join the others,” he suggested instead, and when you nodded, he helped you off the bed.

The warmth of his hands against yours felt so different from what you had once known from Lars. Lars’s hands had always been cool and a little moist, but Ryan’s hands were warm and dry. You tried not to give this realization a second thought, and instead murmured a thank you to Ryan, before walking out into the kitchen, closely followed by him.

~*~

The drive was, as expected, long. Through the windows of the bus you watched the landscape fly by. Never before in your life had you ridden on a vehicle for such a long time.

Suddenly you felt very small and inexperienced. All of the people on the bus with you had travelled far beyond the state borders, and you? The only time you had left the outskirts of Salt Lake City, it had been for a school trip to a farm.

Now the bus was racing past unknown mountains in the distance, and past citied you had only heard the name of. Slowly you began to realize the scale of the state you lived in, and knowing that Utah was only one of fifty… the size of the country seemed unimaginable to you.

You had lost the feeling of time, when suddenly somebody sat down next to you, and tore you out of your trance.

“Hey,” Lisa greeted gently. Her brown eyes flickered to the window and back to you, “the landscape’s beautiful, isn’t it?”

You nodded; your throat seemed to have dried out while you had marvelled at the world outside the city.

“Its’s so vast,” you agreed, turning you head back to the window, your eyes following the mountain tops at the horizon.

“You haven’t been out of the city often,” Lisa guessed, and again you nodded.

“Never had a reason to,” you explained, “I think… I mean I knew how big the country is, but- I feel like I finally understand how much change there can be within a hundred miles.”

“It can be overwhelming,” she agreed.

For a while the two of you sat in silence. A part of your brain registered that she smelled faintly of roses, and it made you smile. She seemed like a cute girl, friendly, innocent. Wearing this flowery perfume matched her perfectly.

Outside, you passed fields and farms, small forests that engulfed the high way, and in the distance the mountains continued spiking into the sky. You had believed that the drive might be boring, but you were too fascinated by the new sceneries that presented themselves to you every second to even participate in one of the conversations that were going on.

Only when Lisa next to you quietly sighed, you turned your attention back to her.

“You okay,” you asked, scrutinizing her worriedly.

“I’m fine,” she replied, but you could tell there was something on her mind.

Her chin was resting in her hand, supporting her head while her elbows were sitting on the table, as if she was following a boring lesson in school. Your eyes followed the direction she was looking into, and found Jay, who was sitting on the sofa next to the door to the driver’s cabin. Realization dawned on you, and you could not help the little smile that tucked on your lips.

“Jay, hm?”

Shocked she turned her head to look at you with wide, brown eyes.

“Is it that obvious,” she asked concerned, and you giggled.

“I know this kind of look, trust me,” you shrugged, “so, tell me. Is there something between the two of you?”

“Ha, I wish,” Lisa groaned, “I don’t think he even knows I exist. All the girls love him, honestly how couldn’t they? And he’s so witty and kind and clever…”

You rolled your eyes in amusement; oh yeah, you knew this feeling only too well. This sort of infatuation was what you had felt for Lars, and in your experience this sort of irrational attraction to another human only caused pain in the end.

But you did not say it. It did not seem appropriate. After all, the two of you had just met yesterday, and while you were the only two women on the bus, which made you somewhat of conspirators, you felt like you would overstep your boundaries with such a comment.

Around noon the bus stopped at a gas station. The air outside was hot and dry, and yet it was nice to feel solid ground under your feet again. You stretched your arms over your head, and yawned sleepily. The warm weather did not necessarily invite for moving around much, yet you decided on walking around for a bit.

Dallon, Luis, Charlie and Bill walked into the gas station to buy some snacks while Lucas started refilling the tank of the bus. Lisa was lingering around in the shadow of the bus, trying to get some fresh air. Looking around further, you found Jay igniting a cigarette several feet away from the station, and Ryan was, just like you walking around aimlessly, trying to revive his legs. Lars was nowhere in sight.

You really wondered how things would go on with Lars. Under absolutely no circumstances whatsoever you planned on ever getting back together with him. He had hurt you enough for a lifetime; you would not give him a second chance to do this again. But it did not seem like he had the same plans. The questions he had asked you on the bus earlier made you feel uncomfortable, and you wondered what he would have done, had it not been for Ryan interfering.

Slowly you started to sweat in the heat of the sun, yet you refused to go back onto the bus. The limited space would start feeling restricting soon enough, and you were not in the mood to be alone with Lars, so you waited in the shadow of the gas station, until Luis and Dallon walked back outside, both holding a bottle of cooled mineral water.

“So,” Dallon asked, turning to you once he had spotted you standing by the side of the building, “tell us a little bit about yourself.”

Nervously you shuffled your feet through the dust.

“Not much to tell there, I’m a rather dull person,” you excused, making Luis raise his eyebrows.

“Your haircut says something different,” he told you, making you smile shyly.

“Thanks, it’s just something I’ve wanted to try out for a long time,” you admitted.

“See, that’s already valuable information, you always tried to fit in, and finally got the courage to do more of what you like,” Dallon grinned.

“If you say so,” you shrugged, “anything else you want to know?”

“Why did you decide on doing photography,” Luis immediately asked.

From the corner of your eye you noticed that Ryan had stopped his pacing in front of the gas station. Instead he had turned towards the group, and was listening in from several meters away.

For a moment you hesitated. Would they judge you if you told them you had always wanted to take pictures of bands, capturing the energy, the music, the beat of the concerts? Why should they though?

“When I first got into music as a teenager, there were rarely good pictures of concerts to be found anywhere. So I sort of decided that I wanted to change that. Not just document a person’s face, or do a close-up of someone playing the guitar, but really transfer the vibe of the concert, the emotions of the music, through a picture to someone who hadn’t seen it live.”

When you stopped talking the men looked down at you, clear awe written into their faces.

“That sounds like one hell of a goal,” Luis finally stuttered out, and Dallon nodded.

“With such intentions, it is no surprise your work is this good.”

“Have you seen some pics,” you asked, suddenly feeling nervous. You had not expected anyone but Lucas to be familiar with your work.

“Lucas showed Ryan and me a few photos from the website,” Dallon explained.

Your conversation got interrupted by the tour manager, who called everyone back to the bus so you could continue your journey. Since you felt tired from all the exciting changes so far, you decided to take a nap.

You crawled into your bunk bed, climbing past Ryan’s bunk which had small curtains drawn in front of it, and settled in your own bed. Pulling your own curtains closed as well, you engulfed yourself in the little, precious private space. Since the ceiling was so close above you, it felt like the bunk bed was a cosy, little cave.

Lying down on your side, you pulled your knees to your chest. Just now you noticed that there was a small, tinted window which allowed you to look outside. Underneath you the bus awoke to life once more, and you watched the landscape pass by again. It felt strange, lying in a moving vehicle, but it sparked a feeling of adventure inside of you. And before you even knew it, you had fallen asleep.

Chapter Three

[hillnerd]

Au headcanons romione but Ron is a girl but Hermione is still a girl

So this has  bi-Ronnie struggling with coming to terms with her sexuality- as well as her feelings for Hermione. There is some internalized biphobia in this- which I am very familiar with, given how I went through the same thing. :P  I wrote it all between last night and today, and it’s unbeta-ed but… Anyways! Here we go:

A Million Reasons to Kiss you -  rated pg-13 - f/f- Romione

Quidditch practice hadn’t gone well. Ronnie was aching all over, had let her nerves get to her, and felt about as useless as a tutu on a frog. She’d done alright last year! She flew great at home! She even outdid that wanker McLaggen at tryouts! Why did she have to be so stupidly inconsistent?

It didn’t help that she’d been having trouble sleeping lately. It went beyond worries about Quidditch, the impending war, her family, and poor Harry- it was worries about romance; which made her feel even worse since it was silly to let something that dumb be a bigger distraction that everything else.

She couldn’t help it though! For weeks she’d been concerned about it, and she didn’t know what to do with herself. Ronnie had been attracted to a fair few boys. At least she thought so. Dean was awfully good looking, and had drawn her and said her scars from the department of mysteries were pretty. And Harry she’d dated for a little bit back in fifth year. It made sense, right? He and she were so alike. That spark hadn’t been there, so they ended ‘the great experiment,’ as she called it, fairly quickly. That and she was feeling like a crap sister, since she knew Ginny had fancied him.

Beyond the boys though, she had also noticed a few of the girls who were good looking as well. It was an odd sort of feeling, but she thought she might like both, and the prospect of it scared her. She didn’t know any women who liked other women, and was worried something had to be wrong with her. Maybe the chess match their first year had hurt her brain, or that spell Pettigrew had done on her in third year, or the brains at the end of the year. She had fancied boys too, not just girls, such as a certain pretty brunette who chased her about in her dreams.

Hermione… Ronnie looked across the fireplace at her. She was the loveliest girl of them all. Ronnie was drying out from their miserable rainy practice, and Harry had just turned in, giving Ronnie plenty of time to stare at her best friend. Hermione was working on some essay or another for arithmancy, and had her brows furrowed as they always did when she was concentrating. She also had the cutest habit of biting her lip, which Ron found more and more distracting with each passing month. She’d been in deep denial about how much she liked Hermione for some time, but finally had come to terms with it some time last year. The excuses she gave herself seemed a bit silly now, with her fully smitten as she was.

They were just close because they were best friends! They would sit for hours in bed talking about everything under the sun, sides of their legs touching, and it was just the same as any other relationship Ronnie’d seen with other girls. She’d wanted to punch Krum the moment he showed interest in Hermione because she was so fiercely protective of her good friend. She wanted to kiss her and run her fingers through Hermione’s wild curls because… Well there was no way to deny that particular imagery wasn’t exactly ‘friendly.’

“Well, I think I’m almost done. Want to head up with me?” Hermione asked, startling Ronnie out of her thoughts.

“I… I dunno. I think I might stay down here a bit longer…” Ronnie replied, not sure she could handle Hermione in her adorable pajamas right now, with where her thoughts were.

“Are you feeling alright? You look flushed!” Hermione said, leaning over to put a hand to Ronnie’s cheeks.

“I’m probably just too warm from the fire.”

“Then maybe you should head up with me?”

Unable to think of a good excuse, Ronnie complied. She stalled in the shower for a long time. If she stayed there long enough perhaps Hermione would already be asleep, and she could avoid her til they were all in their formless black robes.

A week later and Ronnie was certain she was going to murder her little sister. She’d been making fun of her Keeper skills all through practice, and Ronnie couldn’t deal with her sister a moment longer. She didn’t want to see anyone, so stayed at the pitch long after everyone else had gone back to the tower. Ronnie finally dragged herself up to the castle, and got to the Fat Lady’s portrait minutes before curfew. The common room was mostly empty, and Harry and Hermione were nowhere to be found, but she decided to stay beside the fire until it was almost midnight, she was so grumpy.

The dorm was dark, and she could hear the soft breathing coming from a few curtains. She changed in the dark and slid into bed, but she could just make out the light coming from between Hermione’s curtains.

“Oi, Hermione!” Ronnie whispered at her, smiling fondly. She was the only person who could cheer her up now. “You need to sleep some time!”

Hermione’s head popped out from between her curtains. Ronnie could just see the book’s cover. She had been reading one of her ‘smutty books’ that she kept hidden at the bottom of her trunk. Ronnie was the only person who knew about it, and Hermione had sworn her to secrecy.

“I can’t read this any other time though!” Hermione whispered back.

“You could just spell the cover to look like something boring. You read enough boring books no one would know the difference.”

Hermione had grown tired of leaning out the bed apparently, because she quickly gestured Ronnie over to her bed.

“Budge over,” Ronnie said as she nestled in with practiced ease, and cast a Muffliato on Parvati and Lavender so she could talk a bit more freely. Hermione looked cross, as she did with anything related to the Half-Blood Prince book, but Ronnie wasn’t going to turn down a good charm because of a cross look from Hermione. Half the time she like the cross looks, as Hermione looked adorable when she pouted.

“I can’t read this book just anywhere,”Hermione said, turning back to the topic at hand. Smutty books. “Because if someone read the pages they’d know it’s a romance novel!”

“When is the last time anyone asked to look at the pages of a book you were reading!” Ronnie laughed.

“Last year Ernie MacMillan asked about a runes book I was reading!”

“Ernie MacMillan is a pompous tosser. Of course he would ask.”

“Asking about books isn’t pompous,” Hermione said, looking a touch hurt. She always was a bit touchy about her brainy tendencies being poked at.

“Oh I know, I’m just being a cross tosser myself,” Ronnie quickly said, not wanting to see Hermione look down. “I just don’t want you staying up until three in the morning to find out if ‘Rodrigo’s large girth penetrates Juliet’s quivering femininity.’”

“Well… Er, this one doesn’t have a ‘Rodrigo’ in it per se.”

“What, he named Humperdrink or something else instead,” Ronnie said grabbing the book.

“No… She’s named–”

“She?”

“Yes. It’s two girls, well, women in this one.”

Ronnie blushed and her mouth hung open as she stared at the book in her hand.

“They… They put that in books?”

“Of course they do!” Hermione said with a roll of her eyes. “Well, they’re not as easy to find, but they’re out there.”

“So…” Ronnie said, wheels in her head turning. “You had to look for this then?”

“Oh! W-well, I don’t know about that.” Hermione began to play with a curl of her hair. “They have a lot of books at this bookshop down the way from my house- and I happened to come across it in the paperback section, and I bought it not entirely knowing what it was…”

Ronnie was eyeing the back of the book. It seemed to be pretty clear what the book was. They’d written an enticing summary right on the back that made it clear there were no heroes in this book- just heroines.

“It’s ok if you knew,” Ronnie said, looking at this book with more interest than she ever had a book in her life. Harry could keep his potions tutor book for all she cared, there was a book about romance between girls in it. “Can I borrow it when you’re done?”

She quickly realized her mistake when Hermione’s brows shot up. She’d never asked to borrow a book for fun in her life.

“I… I’ve already read it, actually.” Hermione said, biting her lip.

“So it’s good then.”

“I liked it a lot, yes.”

“Well, when you finish it for a second time, I’d like to borrow it.”

“Are you sure?” Hermione asked. “It’s two women… You know… In a romance.”

“Yeah.”

“There are still racy scenes in it.”

“I think I’ll be able to cope if you could,” Ronnie said with a roll of her eyes. She stopped to think a moment. Perhaps Hermione would know a bit more about this whole ‘liking girls’ thing. She’d read books about it, after all. Well, one book at least.

“If you like, you can borrow it now.”

“No no… You finish your reread. I can wait,” Ronnie said, though she desperately wanted to read it, she didn’t want to seem too eager.

“Well… if you insist. I better get reading then,” Hermione smiled at Ronnie, who took that as her cue to get to her own bed.

“As long as you don’t stay up too late! Reading in a dimly lit four poster? You’ll make your eyesight as bad as Harry’s!”

“A little eye strain never killed anyone!”

“Night Hermione.”

“Night Ronnie.”

Ronnie had never known Hermione to be a particularly slow reader, but it felt like she was taking FOREVER to get finished with the romance book. Ronnie didn’t dare ask about it, for fear of it making her look too obvious, even though weeks had passed. Hermione had been at a bunch of those blasted Slug Club meetings, that Ronnie had not scored an invite to, and Harry was having lessons with Dumbledore- leaving Ronnie a bit lonely at times.

Fall had approached, and the first Hogsmeade visit was the next day. They sat in Hermione’s bed making plans for it when Hermione reached in her bedside table and retrieved the book.

“I finished this last night, if you still want to borrow it.”

“Er… Yeah. Yeah, I will, thanks,” Ronnie said, trying not to show her enthusiasm. “So can you tell me a bit about the book? Do the girls… only romance each other, or were there guys too.”

“Well, the only main romance is between the women. I’ve read another though where there was a love triangle where a girl had to choose between a boy and a girl.”

“That’s a thing then?” Ronnie said, feeling a burst of excitement, relief almost spilling over as she waited to hear.

“Love triangles?” Hermione asked.

“No! Girls liking both boys and girls.”

“Of course it’s a thing,” Hermione scoffed a bit, looking away from Ronnie.

“It’s not thought of as strange?”

“Well… I won’t say that. Not everyone is nice about it, but things are changing in the Muggle World at least. I don’t know what it’s like in the Wizarding World really.”

“Honestly, I don’t know either…” That’s what scared her really. She didn’t know anyone like her.

“Do you think it’s strange for a girl to like girls?” Hermione suddenly asked her.

“I don’t know… I mean. It doesn’t feel like it should matter… but no one else is doing it, so I don’t know what to think.”

Hermione seemed to deflate at this, for some reason.

“If… If a girl you knew liked girls, would you think poorly of her?” Ronnie asked, breath bated as she looked down at her knees.

“Of course I wouldn’t!” Hermione declared, bold as brass. Ronnie felt deep relief pooling within her, but it was quickly met with fear as Hermione squared her shoulders as she always did before a lecture. “And you shouldn’t either! People love who they love, and there’s nothing wrong with that. I know you can be old fashioned, but there is no place for that sort of attitude! There was this one film last year, The Bird Cage. It’s about two men who are together, but it’s the same thing.  I support gay rights, and you should too! My mum and dad took me to see it and it was lovely, and I can’t have one of my best friends things poorly of gays and lesbians and everyone else!”

“I don’t think poorly of them, though!” Ronnie declared, angry at the implication.

“Well the way you were asking if it was strange and if I’d think poorly of someone if they did sure made it sound like you didn’t like the idea of it!”

“I wanted to know because–” Ronnie stopped herself short.

“Why?” Hermione said, looking at the book between them, then back up to Ronnie.

“I– I might…” Could she really tell any of this to Hermione?  It was one thing to make speeches about it when they were strangers, but would she feel so cozy about gays when she found out her friend was one of them? Would Hermione figure out she had a crush on her and then find Ronnie disgusting? It was frightening to say it to your own crush and best friend of six years.

“Just say it!”

“I like girls, ok!” Ronnie let out before slapping her hands to her mouth, and closing her eyes tight. She couldn’t believe she’d said it. She’d said it! It was oddly relieving after a few years of it bouncing around in her skull, but she also was afraid to so much as look at Hermione. She braced herself to be thrown out of the bed, or hear Hermione start laughing at her. Nothing happened though. Nothing was said. Instead one of Hermione’s cool hands went to Ronnie’s and pride them from her mouth.

“Ronnie, it’s ok,” she said pulling Ronnie’s hand to her side.

Ronnie shook her head.

“It is!” Hermione said holding her hand tight. “You’re not the only one in the school!”

“I like boys too sometimes,” Ronnie said weakly.

“You’re not the only bisexual in the school either.”

“A what?”

“A person who likes both.”

“There’s a word for it!” Ronnie said with a smile. “Oh god, of course you would know the name for it. You know everything. I should have said something sooner.”

“Well…” Hermione said suddenly looking uncertain. “A-a lot of people are afraid to c-come out of the closet, so it’s… It’s only natural to want to keep it to yourself.”

“’Come out of the closet?’ Is there some sort of gay Muggle ritual around this?”

“No! Nothing like that!” Hermione laughed, giving Ronnie a friendly nudge in the arm, before sobering up. “Thank you for trusting me enough to tell me.”

“Yeah… I don’t know that I actually meant to say it, but I’m glad I have now,” Ronnie said with a sigh. “You’re… You’re ok with it, right?”

Hermione blushed, but she squeezed Ronnie’s hands in hers and looked her square in the eye before saying, “I’m very ok with it.”

“Cool, cause I’ve been dying to read this romance novel for weeks, and didn’t want to say anything!”

The two of them giggled and spent the rest of the night at ease.

“Bisexual?” Harry asked. They were at the Three Broomsticks, and Hermione had convinced Ronnie to come out to Harry. They had their own booth and had put up a spell so no one could hear them.

“Yeah… Do you know what that is?” Ronnie said, looking to Hermione for guidance.

“Well yeah. So you think that’s what you are?”

“Yeah.”

“Well that’s convenient,” Harry said, smiling and looking at Hermione who promptly kicked him under the table. “OUCH!”

“Seems to be more confusing than anything, but as long as you aren’t weirded out by me for it…” Ronnie said, weaving her fingers so tightly the joints were beginning to ache.

“Not at all,” Harry beamed, lifting his glass before making the oddest toast Ronnie could ever think of. “To all the bisexual women in my life!”

Hermione frowned at Harry, but schooled her face into a smile as soon as she noticed Ron looking at her.

“Yeah… to me, I guess” Ronnie said, holding up her glass, and pulling at face at how weird her friends were being.

The Hogsmeade trip went on somewhat pleasantly, though Harry get blathering on about Ginny this and Ginny that. Ronnie wasn’t certain, but it seemed Harry might have cottoned on to how great Ginny was. It was a shame she was already dating Dean. The Hogsmeade trip ended horribly, though, with Katie Bell twitching on the ground and being carted off to St Mungo’s. The trio had sat talking for hours about who was possibly behind the heinous act, but it was all for naught because nothing was really solved. The next few weeks brough with them another mystery that Ronnie found much more perplexing and worrisome.

Hermione had been acting very distant around Ronnie, and she just knew that it was because of the whole ‘bisexual’ thing. Ronnie couldn’t begrudge her. Hermione genuinely thought she was ok with it, but maybe Ronnie was just too much for Hermione to handle. They used to join each other in bed every few nights to catch up on things, but lately Hermione hadn’t asked her, and she’d been too afraid to do it either. She wanted to ask Hermione what her problem was, but frankly she didn’t know what she’d do if Hermione didn’t want to be her friend anymore. Sure, she had a huge crush on her and thought she was the most beautiful, lovely person in the entire world- but she could get over heartache. You know. Eventually. She couldn’t get over Hermione not being her friend, though.

They were in Herbology when Hermione started talking that ruddy Slug Club again, with which Ronnie was just about up to her ears with frustration.

“Slug Club. It’s pathetic. Well, I hope you enjoy your party. Why don’t you try hooking up with McLaggen, then Slughorn can make you King and Queen Slug–“

"We’re allowed to bring quests,” said Hermione, who was blushing so red she more resembled an overdone lobster than a human. But then something completely baffling happened, and Hermione turned to Ronnie. “I was going to ask you to come, but if you think it’s that stupid then I won’t bother!”

Ronnie’s mind started zooming. Was this… This couldn’t be a date situation… Not between them. Hermione had never showed any interest in Ronnie that way. She was straight. She was just asking a friend to go to a party.

“I’d like to go with you,” Ronnie said quietly.

“Really?”

“Yeah.”

Harry was suddenly the noisiest arse in the world and broke his bowl while trying to stab his pod. It was just as well, for Ronnie was sure she’d say something stupid. She’d walked around in the daze the rest of the day, failed miserably at Quidditch again, ran into Ginny snogging Dean. On some level she registered she’d housed a bit of a soft spot for him at one point- but she couldn’t begrudge Ginny that given how Ronnie had briefly dated Harry. She and Ginny had a bit of a row about the snogging (it was quite hot and heavy compared to any of the chaste passionless kisses she’d tried on Harry.) Ginny reacted with the calm of a blast-ended skrewt, ended up letting out a truth-bomb on Hermione having snogged Krum, which was an unpleasant mental image. Harry had been in a snit after it all, though, which was the one thing to bring a smile to Ronnie’s face that night.

“Are you ok?” she asked Harry as they went down the corridor.

“Why would I not be ok?”

“Well you’ve been pretty Ginny obsessed recently, and just had to witness her eating Dean’s face off.”

“I’m– I’m not… I just… It’s brotherly protectiveness.”

“Uh huh,” Ronnie said with a raise of her eyebrow as Harry began to blush. 

“It’s that Weasley charm. You can’t resist us,” Ronnie said with a laugh before punching him in the arm. “I’m all for it! The second you get over your ‘brotherly protection,’ and Dean’s no longer in the picture, snog her. Guarantee you she’ll snog back. Caught her staring at your bum the other day. It was sickening.”

They’d been closer since ‘The Great Experiment,’ and were a little more able to talk about these things with one another.

“What about you with Hermione,“ said Harry. She similarly went red. “You have some ‘sisterly’ protective feelings about her?”

“That’s different,” Ronnie said hastily. “Plus you heard Ginny, Hermione snogged Krum. Heterosexuality confirmed pretty solidly.”

“Hmmm,” Harry said, though he had that look on his face he got when he was keeping a juicy secret.

“Do you know something?”

“I… I don’t know know everything… I have suspicions.”

“Of–?”

“Let’s just say, perhaps you should talk to Hermione and see if that hetero thing is as locked down as you think.”

It was the first good idea she’d heard from Harry in so long she thought they should throw him a parade later.

She entered her Dormitory to find Hermione in bed with the light of a wand shining through a crack in her curtain again. Ronnie gave a soft knock on one of the posts of the bed and Hermione opened the curtain for her.

“Budge over,” Ronnie said as she always did. Hermione was reading another romance, this one with a cover that housed a man and woman dressed in old Scottish highlands garb about to snog. “I have a question about that book I borrowed.”

Hermione looked at Ronnie curiously.

“Why did you choose a book with a lesbian couple in it?”

“Why wouldn’t I? They’re just as valid as any other couple! You don’t need a reason to enjoy romance between two people. Their sexuality should have nothing to do with it,” Hermione said, nose in the air.

“Yeah, fine, you’re right. But do you perhaps… Is it… Could you maybe fancy girls too?”

Ronnie held her breath as Hermione looked at her with wide eyes. Hermione’s mouth opened and closed.

“I don’t fancy girls,” Hermione said, and Ronnie almost felt like crying.

“Oh… So… Ok… So you don’t… Ok, I shouldn’t have assumed,” Ronnie said wanting to escape the bed. “That’s fine… That’s great. Erm, I’m gonna go to–”

Ronnie felt tears forming in her eyes and had to get out of there immediatetly. She practically sprinted for the Common Room, which was blessedly empty of people before she started all out crying.

She should have known! She should have bloody known. It would be fine. It would be. She’d heal up and they could go back to being friends, and it’d be fine, but right now, in this moment, Ronnie needed a good cry.

“Ronnie?” she heard Hermione’s voice from the stairs.

“Go ‘way ‘Mione,” Ronnie said, wiping at her eyes, not wanting her humiliating breakdown to be witnessed.

“Please don’t cry!” Hermione said, sitting beside her.

“I’m fine, I just… I’m fine, Hermione, don’t worry about it. Practice was hard and… It’s fine.”

“You’re not… Why did you start crying when I said I didn’t fancy girls?”

Ronnie couldn’t answer that.

“Because,” Hermione continued, “I only fancy one girl… Not girls. I’ve never noticed any other girl at all, but the one.”

Ronnie looked at Hermione in amazement.  It was too much to hope for. Harry had said something. He must have known Hermione fancied a girl. Could it possibly be Ronnie she fancied?

“Is that Slug Club party invite a date? Or would we be going just as friends?” Ronnie asked.

“Would… Would you be ok if it was a date?” Hermione practically squeaked.

Ronnie smiled so broadly her cheeks began to hurt. “Yeah, it’d be ok if it was a date.”

“Really?” Hermione said, still not looking completely at ease.

“Yes!” Ronnie let out, starting to laugh. “Just to make sure, I’m the one girl you fancy, right?”

“Y-yes,” Hermione hesitatingly confessed, a shy smile working its way onto her beautiful face.

“I’ve fancied you back for ages,” Ronnie said, putting her hands in Hermione’s. Hermione’s eyes began to cloud with tears, but she was smiling and laughing.

“Oh thank fucking God!” Hermione let out, shocking the both of them.

“Ok, you just cursed. I’m obligated to kiss you now,” Ronnie said leaning across to Hermione, and holding her chin in her hands. She slowed a moment making sure Hermione was ok, but Hermione closed the distance. This wasn’t like the chaste passionless kisses she’d shared with Harry- this was some sort of surreal fulfillment she’d never hoped to dream of. It was like one of those soul exploding kisses. It was casting a Patronus for the first time. It was the first bite of a warm freshly cooked pastry. It was perfection.

“Just for edification, you don’t have to wait for me to curse to kiss me in the future,” Hermione said as they parted.

“Oh, I can think of a million reasons to kiss you,” Ronnie said, kissing her again. 

Over the years, she definitely did.

[lyricsandpapers]

Lets Talk

I want to talk about @danielhowell and his coming out video. As I mostly shitpost here I honestly doubt anyone will give two shits about what I have to say, but personally I need to talk about it. 

First off, a huge welcome and thank you; to the community that seems to hate itself and for all the very gif-able memes you have given us upon this day. 

Now with that out of the way, I’m going to break this down. Dan talking about his personal experience with internalized oppression and PTSD from social homophobia was incredibly brave, especially sharing very deeply personal and close things about himself that he clearly stated he hadn’t shared before. Many a tears were shed in the 45 minutes since I got off work. 

The most important things that I really felt the need to sit down and type out into the void that is my blog were 1.) ‘The Phandom’ literally as a whole 2.) Dan being afraid to come out due to infighting in the community 3.) Pressure for labels 4.) Coming out and the need for it in todays life 5.) Bystanders in bad situations

I want to start off my Huge Rant by addressing something that exists and I have seen, Phan. Hey, hey you super creepy 15 yr olds who have been fetishizing someone who had previously told you he was straight with his best friend. Step the fuck off right now.  I understand ‘shipping’ is a pretty powerful force that binds the walls of tumblr together. But Dan has specifically stated in this video that he wants his personal life private, he never openly stated anything about his relationship with Phil and if you take this opportunity to write fic or scream out your uwu’s then you are NOT supporting him. Fetishizing is not support, it is not okay and I, as a legal adult, own swords and know how to use them. 

I have always found shipping real life people to be pretty problematic alone, but Dan giving a powerful and moving 45min speech about his experience gives you NO permission to be gross about it. I’ve had to listen to Adult Men in my hometown fetishize two lovely married women who just moved into town with us and that ISNT support, you are creating MORE oppression by using sexuality as a fetish. 

Moving onto Dan being afraid to come out due to the community, this made me shed so many tears (especially when he mentioned acephobia. Hi Dan, you have validated me so much with one simple word). Our community is ostracizing it’s own members due to the bigoted gate-keeping people have decided is neccessary. Biphobia, Acephobia, hatred against certain pronouns, against certain labels, the entire truscum-tucute ordeal, and the amount of racism and transphobia present. The LGBT+ is supposed to be our safe space, our riot to the world to say “We are here, we are alive and you cannot defeat us.” But if we are driving out people who belong with us, people who feel helpless and alone, fighting and tearing each other down? The world doesn’t need to TRY to defeat us, we’re doing it ourselves.  I don’t care what labels you use, what pronouns you prefer. My opinon on someone else’s identity isn’t Automatically Okay because I’m LGBT+. If it was people OUTSIDE the community doing this to us, we would never stand for it! So why are we attempting to drag each other down? Sexuality and gender are fluid, we experiment and we learn. But by putting the community under lock and key people are AFRAID to learn, to find out who they really are and that only hurts us in the long run. 

We WANT people to normalize figuring out their gender and sexuality, even if someone ends up cis or straight, because life is HARD and the world is confusing and we need to learn and be accepted not dragged down and locked away. 

Tying that into the pressure for labeled identities and the hatred for labels. Dan explained how he felt scared by the numerous amount of identities out there, but if ANYONE takes that as an opportunity to shit on pan people or aro/ace specs I’m going to go absolutely feral. @danielhowell himself stated that some people Feel Better and Validated with specific labels. I understand the argument against ‘too many labels’ in the LGBT+ community is it makes us ‘seem like a joke’ to anyone else. But let me tell you this, it is not the labels that made someone treat you poorly, they were always an asshole. OR they are dealing with internalized oppression and if THATS the case, we shouldn’t be fighting anger with hatred. Want labels? Good!! Go find one and we should support you! Are afraid of labels? That’s okay too! Find something you are comfy with and even if it isn’t perfect we should respect that too. I hate how policed the reclamation of the word Queer is, you are valid if you don’t want to reclaim that word or dislike it, but please stop invalidating people who enjoy using it for themselves. Who WANT to reclaim it. If someone wants to identify with the word Queer you have NO right to police ‘if they are allowed’ to use it or not. Because if they identify as it, they are RECLAIMING it. 

Last two things! Promise, coming out is hard ((Also @danielhowell I came out with a QnA PDF file I texted my family at 11pm in another state so big mood on email)). And some people find it unnecessary to do so, and that’s okay. But understand if you openly show you are proud of who you are, you are showing younger people it is okay to be this way and giving them security and helping them not feel alone. But you know what makes you feel the MOST alone, when anyone refuses to help you. This is in regards to any minority group, racism, anti-religious propaganda, sexism, homophobia, transphobia. I understand it is hard to stand up, but standing up is the only way to CHANGE anything, we cannot change until we show people what is wrong. A lot of institutionalized issues some people don’t even realize, TELL THEM! Hey! Don’t use that word, don’t make that joke, don’t treat that person like that! Stand up for our brothers and sisters and siblings of other minority groups! Correct people for using the wrong pronouns on your friend, shut down racist comments. Educate yourself to help others and show that we are ready to stand up for them. 

Mostly because, we all wanted someone to stand up for us. And maybe someone did? But maybe someone didn’t and we need to change that cycle. 

All in all welcome to the family @danielhowell we love you so much and hope together we can make a change