GOOD ADVICE/BAD GAY #1
On bi dykes
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Dear Bad Gay,
I came out as a lesbian when I was 19 and haven't looked back. Until quarantine, that is. My bff got a new roommate, a cis queer guy, and I'm crushing! Since my bff and I are in the same pod, I see this guy a lot, and we've gotten pretty friendly. I don't know for sure but I think he might be into me too.
Here's my problem: My bff, who is also a lesbian, says I can't still call myself a dyke if I hook up with or date this guy. I have no idea where a relationship with him could go (or even if he likes me back!), but it seems ridiculous that I could lose my dyke card after almost 10 years because of a dude who isn't even straight.
Am I overthinking this? I've never had a crush on a guy before, so maybe I should just ignore it? Who's right?
From,
(Maybe) Bi Dyke
Dearest (Maybe) Bi Dyke,
“Coming out” drives me a little crazy. (And yes, let’s just start this whole thing off with me using “crazy” as a pejorative as a mental health professional who works hard to reduce the stigma around mental health and therapy.) It drives me crazy as in, the way we sometimes conceptualize it gets me all hot under the collar, so...sorry, but not sorry.
I believe that coming out is important, vital even, to finding peace within ourselves, finding community—all the good things. But coming out does not mean you never have a “heterosexual” thought, hard-on, feeling, or impulse ever again for the rest of your life. If coming out means we become the horny police (interpersonally or intrapsychically), I’ll leave that one behind, thanks. Let us always and forever be suspicious of the puritans among us. I bristle at the notion that anyone, bffs included, who has your best interests at heart, in quarantine or back in the good old days when we could go out and blissfully rub up against other queers, would tell you what you should do with your sense of your own identity, or in your heart or your bed (or wherever, let’s live a little).
Here’s a caveat to this response before I get into it: Community exists for a reason. You come out so you can hopefully be welcomed in, so, before I sink my teeth into how I feel about the queer hall monitors among us, let me say, respectfully or I suppose not so respectfully, if you came out as a “dyke” and continue to exclusively fuck, date and cuddle (coddle) cishet dudes, I’m with the bff—I’m coming for your card and you can’t come to the meetings anymore, sorry, we need a little skin in the game if you want to hang. When I say “a little skin,” I mean that you can’t sit with us if you haven’t grappled with what sitting with us means sexually, politically, socially, sartorially, haircut-wise, etc. There are lots of different ways to have skin in the game but you don’t get a free pass in just because you use the right words or just want to identify a certain way—that’s privilege, so make sure it doesn’t go unchecked. People fought for you to use the word “dyke” and be able to fuck Mr. Cisqueer, so let’s make sure it means something.
Ok, let’s continue with me bashing the bff….
(Maybe) Bi Dyke, there is nothing but time to think these days so, no, don’t police (ACAB) yourself for overthinking. Rather, let’s think about what the upside might be for anyone who wants to tell us what these labels mean definitively. Hell, let’s really be “dykes” and do some good old-fashioned bff processing. What psychosexual traps are the bff hiding under there? What wondrous (sexy?) sibling rivalry is she enacting to hold you down and keep you from your cisqueer fling? Does she want to fuck him? Does she want to fuck you? Maybe you can all fuck together and really just do what we all have been thinking about when we keep referring to these alleged “pods.”
What I really think is this: We queers, as a large and varied community, decided that we needed to come out to reduce shame and to take back the menace of being outed, but now, if we use coming out to invoke shame in ourselves or others for not doing it right, not committing enough, not being the right kind of “out,” then what the actual fuck are we all doing here? The community you live in, the people you hold dear, the folks you fight with and for, are different than who you may or may not want to fuck or love or be across your lifespan. Maybe you’re Bi, maybe you’re a Dyke, maybe you’re a Bi Dyke, I don’t know, but let’s not let community building and safety be the enemy of joy or the enemy of our own authenticity. That’s counterproductive and painful for all of us, in the end.
Be very wary of anyone who makes you feel (nonconsensually) ashamed of your sexual or romantic impulses. There’s almost always something else behind it that’s usually way more about them than about you.
By the way, the way I see it, virtually no one has ever gotten anywhere by “ignoring” a crush. That’s just kinky. But maybe you’re that, too—live your life!
Talk to the cis queer fellow, kiss his cute face if you want to, and find a little joy.
Yours truly,
Bad Gay
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David tweets at @k8bushofficial.