Me, Myself, and the Bi Guy

Words by Joe L.

The thought of me writing this makes me want to throw up. It’s not often I get to express this stomach-churning feeling through writing, speech, or really any media for that matter. 

I suppose I should explain why I’m getting the urge to run to the toilet bowl and let my bowels empty via the entrance they were filled—I’m a bisexual man shining a light on my own internalised homophobia.

I don’t want to be too depressing or make y’all care too much, but I do want to make sure you know that this exists. There are countless crowds of people casually going about their day, whilst internally fighting themselves over their sexual orientation. I know this isn’t the hardest of battles to fight in this current age of feeling and being everything, but it is a story to be told and shared so others like me know they’re not alone.

To set the scene: I’m Me. I get high with my friends, I paint my nails with my friends, I swipe inconsistently on Tinder and then get interrupted by the dick pics on Grindr. I’m also a young Māori/Pākeha man who was raised by a Catholic mum and a stern father. I lived in Southland and experienced enough time on a sheep farm to know it’s not for me.

But there’s more to me than that. Who is the man that I keep hidden away from myself, that I have never told my family about, that I only address when I’m high, drunk, or crying (which is rarely due to another problem with NZ’s toxic Kiwi bloke representation)? Well, tbh, idk. I first saw him in the reflection of my phone as I searched for gay porn late at night. Sometime later he emerged in first-year as I lost my V-card to a lovely lady. However, neither of us knew wtf to do—so naturally, I downloaded Grindr. More recently, I saw him anxiously struggle to fall asleep next to his ex after another failed attempt to get him off.

These reflections are him, are me. But I only wanted to view him as an entity in a mirror—I didn’t want to be gay, I wanted to be straight. I remember my old science teacher said “nobody chooses to be gay, your DNA is already made, you will be as you are”. And very distinctly thinking to myself “say sike right now” only he never did, he never even said, “and that’s okay”. He just carried on talking about some shit about punnett squares. Hearing that I couldn’t choose made me feel like I had lost a war that I didn’t even want to start. My upbringing never prepared me for this, I went to Catholic Church on Sunday, ate and drank whatever, sang the whatever creed, then went home and smashed my brother’s LEGO. I was the pure image of a good Southland child being raised to fuck chicks and dodge dicks. But boy, (oh boys) have I shown my parents wrong.

My body count isn’t that high, but it’s definitely varied. I’ve sucked dick overseas and in the back of cars, yet I’ve also eaten pussy till my tongue hurts, and struggled to find the clit. If you know me in Wellington, you’ll know I’m not just into chicks. I had a bit of a reawakening when I moved from the farmlands to the capital, but that’s only in my exterior display. Internally, I haven’t. Sure I’m happy to order a 30 dollar Uber to some guys house at 1am so I can blow some grass then pound his ass. Yet I cannot tell myself I’m happy being bisexual.

Internalised homophobia is an easy definition: ‘the gay person’s direction of negative social attitudes towards the self, leading to a devaluation of the self and resultant internal conflicts and poor self-regard.’ (Meyer and Dean, 1998). Or more colloquially, when members of the LGBTQIA+ society are subject to society’s negative perspective, stigma, and intolerance towards LGBTQIA+ people, and as a result, flip those ideas inwards on themselves whilst believing they are true. 

So yes, it’s felt internally, and yes it’s a fear of non-heterosexual orientations. And on top of that, yes, it’s hard to pinpoint which part you fear. For example, some could fear being connected to the gay community when they don’t feel they want/need to be as vibrant, some could fear how their relationship with people would change, others fear the secrecy of having to come out of the closet. Myself? I fear a combination of going beyond the safe haven of the closet, putting myself out into a vibrant community that I don’t always vibe with, and going with the ‘wrong’ I was aggressively taught by my aggressively heterosexual society.

My fear of not lining up with the queer community stemmed from the invalidation of bisexuals. While I was growing up, the Southland queer community was highlighted as only gays (they dropped all the other letters in our handy acronym), no bisexuals were seen at all. If anything, being bisexual was seen as a ‘phase’ and would soon evolve to be a complete gay—no straight attached. The queer community is sometimes still in this mindset, and like every human, is possible of being cruel. So let me make this, quite clear. Being bisexual is valid, is important, is special and creative, is part of you and forever will be. That was more for my sake than yours but ya know. There’s even more evidence for my homophobic side due to my bisexual nature. Being able to like boys and girls means that I can get away with oppressing the queer side and just focus on the women—an easy way out, I know. 

Being stuck doubting and hating my orientation while in a relationship was not very good, not very good at all. I dunno if my ex could tell or could see this struggle. I like to think I was a pretty good actor but she was far too smart to not see through any bs I ever presented to her. Now that I’m out of that relationship, I’ve somewhat realised what I was going through—and still am—a rough patch of being disgusted by every inkling of me that isn’t either a Chad or straight. 

The one thing I’ve found that has helped me to address this homophobic side is time and exposure. Combining these two things has helped to normalise the queer me that I have been taught to deny at every corner. It’s difficult to imagine any queer person in NZ has not dealt with some degree of internalised homophobia, and others I have discussed this with have found resolution in time, counseling, and being with the right crowd. The smallest way to approach this personal oppression is through chat, and if it’s with the right people (like a therapist) then it can work extreme wonders. 

I thought I’d leave you with a little quote that I live by. As Lou Bega classically said:

‘A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Erica by my side,’ but ya see I misheard. I ended up singing ’A little bit of Monica in my life, a little bit of Eric (uh) by my side.’

Btw this is my Tinder anthem ;)