Getting By as Bi
Robyn Ochs, editor of Bi Women Quarterly, put into words an internal struggle. There’s no way to publicly be read as bi, I remember her saying, unless you walk down the street holding the hand of a man and the hand of a woman at the same time. And even then, I’ve come to realize, other interpretations of what’s going on probably supersede the thought that “the one in the middle must be bi”.
As a cisgendered, femme-presenting, bisexual, polyamorous woman, I experience a lot of imposter syndrome about my LGBTQ+ identity. I don’t look queer, I don’t sound queer, I don’t dress queer. If I have a male partner by my side, I imagine I practically radiate heterosexuality when I walk into a room.
I’m used to having to work harder to signal my queer identity. If I want it to be known, I have to proactively show up early in spaces and declare my belonging immediately. Once you miss that critical window, you’re not afforded as much unquestioning acceptance. For example, in grad school I made sure I went to the very first meeting of the queer student organization. There were a few, “Oh my God I didn’t know you were –” comments but quickly everyone accepted I was part of the fam, no questions asked. There were individuals who were more obviously read as queer who didn’t attend, and that wasn’t questioned either; it was openly spoken of as “so-and-so probably has a conflict”, rather than, “is so-and-so not gay?”
Tougher still is when I try to signal to a woman that “I like other women too!” so that my romantic advances might actually be read as such. Another example from grad school: she caught my eye the second she walked into the room. She was charismatic and funny and really knew how to hold eye contact. I was squealing inside that I found myself in a small group chatting with her halfway through that event on the first night, and that she was showing no signs of wanting to move on and socialize with other people. But how to signal that I’m bi, so that my interactions might be read as flirting and not just friendly? I found myself shoehorning in stories of my exes, emphasizing pronouns “they” or “she” (subtly of course) and praying she’d pick up on that nuance. Spoiler alert: she didn’t. It took a whole semester of dropping the same kind of hints for her to really see that I was into her; my showing up at the LGBTQ+ student group also helped. We did eventually get together, and even then, she’d periodically tease me and ask, “Are you sure you’re gay?”
One last anecdote from grad school. In case you’re questioning the need to “show up early” to be accepted without question, let me tell you about the classmate who didn’t. Fair warning: it’s messy – was then, still is.
A two-year program offers you precious little time to job search. As soon as you’re in, you’re applying for internships, and right after you’re hustling for a full-time job offer. So it happened that when ROMBA, the annual LGBTQ+ MBA conference, came around in my second year, we were all frantically (shall I say, desperately) on the job hunt. The ROMBA-attending contingent was bigger this time too: a few more people had decided to see if the conference might offer them more opportunities to get a leg up in their job search. ROMBA asked all conference registrants to provide a school code prior to completing their registration. The president of the LGBTQ+ student group was the keeper of the code. Asking for it was a matter of texting into the group chat…and using it at some point.
Then the drama began. “X is coming to ROMBA!” Wait, what? X has spent the last fourteen months telling everyone about their Tinder adventures and woes with dates of the opposite sex. X has never given any indication they identify as anything but straight – and a big ally. (ROMBA explicitly asks allies not to attend the conference.) X says that they have “always been open” about being bi, and that’s why they’re attending ROMBA this year. X’s “gay best friend” in our program is furious and indignant. After having been X’s confidant for dating woes ever since the beginning of the program, he insists that X has never, ever expressed any interest in women, nor has X ever proclaimed any queer identity. I heard a lot of similarly skeptical and annoyed sentiments from other classmates. No one was interested in my pointing out that we were all reacting in the least inclusive manner ever imaginable, that the whole point of building more awareness and acceptance for differing identities is that we don’t label, question, and force-fit anyone into pre-existing molds. Even as I was saying that to others, however, I was getting increasingly angry on the inside. Bisexuality is often used as a transitional identity label, I know that. It’s not uncommon for someone to start experimenting, then identify as bi, before coming out as gay or lesbian at some later date. Heck, that’s why my own partner at the time was still teasing me about “if I’m sure.”
I found myself angry because I felt that the “convenience” of using bi as a cover-up delegitimized my bi identity. As much as I philosophically don’t think there even should be a debate on “real or fake” identities, I admittedly am living in a world where such judgements are cast and do matter, socially. I wanted to extend X the benefit of the doubt that they truly had always identified as bi and had just somehow not let anyone know, but I felt more certain that they were trying to get access to all the recruiting opportunities at ROMBA. I hated that I was thinking about this at all – that I couldn’t just fundamentally breeze past however X may identify and how they may or may not have changed and if it may or may not be inauthentic and just move on. Why was this occupying headspace?
If it were inauthentic – if our collective memories were correct and X had never identified as bi until the moment they signed up for ROMBA, and if they had only signed up for ROMBA to get access to all the LGBTQ+-focused recruiting opportunities – does X’s fraudulent use of the bi identity erode the legitimacy of that identity?
Originally written for the Cornell Pride Alumni Association monthly newsletter; a shortened version was published in the March 2025 edition