It was CompHet all along!
A questioning lesbian’s journey to figuring it out.
Anon
My best friend of ten years knows me better than myself. So I guess I just had to trust them when they pointed out that my attraction to all women but exclusively feminine men made me a lesbian, and not really much of the bisexual I thought I was. Now I understand that bisexuality has a spectrum of meaning, unique to each individual. In no way am I invalidating bisexuals who feel the same way. But recently, the way-too-specific TikTok algorithm has been pushing me to reconsider that label. All these callouts have made me face myself and ask: am I really attracted to men, or was it just comphet all Along?
“Comphet”—short for compulsory heterosexuality—is an experience many queer people go through as a result of our heteronormative and patriarchal society. It affects people of every gender, but is more commonly seen as a phenomenon that affects women. Specifically, it refers to lesbians being conditioned into feeling that they need to be heterosexual. This happens because of how society revolves women’s identities around their relationship with men. For me, learning what compulsory heterosexuality was made me realise how much of my life was performing my attraction to men.
If you’ve been around the queer side of the internet, you’ve probably heard of the Lesbian Masterdoc. In my recent identity frustration, I gave it a skim through to find any clarification on my mixed feelings, and oh boy did I find some points that struck a chord with me. I could fill a whole Queerlient with every section I related to, but the loudest for sure was: “You constantly test your attraction to men.” I suppose it is weird that I can’t be in a room with any number of guys and not catch myself trying to trick my brain into finding at least one of them attractive. I play this game in some sort of measly attempt to prove, “See, the bisexual label I’ve been clutching onto for the past six years wasn’t all a lie!” It’s a toxic way of thinking—and has been a form of denial for too long.
If I sit down and think about the men I’ve found genuinely attractive, it becomes a bit more obvious. It’s either the unobtainable feminine idols, the guys who were dicks to everyone except me, or... the DILFs. All classic cases of the Lesbian in Denial.
Case 1: The idol. The man who I can’t and won’t ever have to date, with a carefully crafted personality, and attractiveness mainly due to their feminine expression. The man who exists mostly in my mind, an idea, which probably doesn’t reflect what men in real life are like.
Case 2: The absolute assholes... with their exception being me. I historically have had strangely intense crushes on these guys. But whenever I’m asked, “Why don’t you ask him out?” I immediately cringe and spew rapid-fire denials back: “Nooo, I could never!” I just “Wasn’t ready for a relationship”, right? Who am I kidding, it was because I enjoyed the idea of a man validating, and being into, me, more than I was into him.
And Case 3: Well, I think that one’s just the never-had-much-of-a-father issues shining through.
Diving deeper, another reason why I think I’m so trapped in this performance is that I grew up in a brown Catholic family. I was really serious about my Christian faith up until about my last year of college, and this really affected how I approached my queer identity growing up. Sure, by age fourteen I was out and proud. But then in Year Eleven, I had one incredibly gorgeous and incredibly queer girl ask me out on a date. And just like how I drive down The Terrace, the day after I happily agreed to lunch I slammed hard on the brakes and rejected her. I had never felt such strong anxiety that night she asked me out. It came from a tidal wave of Catholic Guilt telling me it would be wrong to act on my gay feelings. I persuaded myself that God intended it was in my best interest to keep them as they are— just feelings. I never got that chance to explore my queerness in college, as much as I wish I did. Instead, I spent a lot of that time convincing myself that I would, and should, end up marrying a man.
Coming out of my Christian PhaseTM, I learned to let go of that guilt. However, I started to feel a different kind of shame. This time it came from knowing my parents emigrated from India and tore themselves from their own homes, to give me a better life. I’m forever indebted to them, which meant I felt like I owed them what they would describe as a “traditional family”. I’m an only child, and even though it is unspoken there is a looming pressure on my shoulders to make my family’s efforts feel worth it. What the hell would they think if I brought a girl home? I already dread the debate over whether or not I can raise a family without a man, let alone bear children. Perhaps they would resurface all the Catholic Guilt that I spent so long shedding. It was easier for me to not think about it, and keep imagining a future where my husband and I are in love and have a large and fulfilling family—like my parents, and God, would want.
Although I still fear coming out to my parents, understanding what comphet is has been a big step in finding my identity and escaping the clutches of denial. It’s a relief to draw the curtains on my performance and seek comfort knowing I can start getting what I really want out of love and life. If anyone else finds themselves thinking or feeling the same way I did, I hope you can find a bit more clarity in your identity, too. Happy Pride Month, lesbians.