Interesting Observations on Bisexual Visibility

This was posted anonymously at Bialogue, citing Feministing.com. I want to share it.

Holding My Boyfriend's Hand: On Becoming Invisible Again

After over a decade of dating mostly butch/masculine women, I am dating a man again. I am a queer high femme, and I "pass" easily through straight society. I am never gay-bashed, just street harassed.

Dating a man again does not fuck with my sense of self, nor does it somehow alienate me from my queer family. I've always identified as a femme attracted to male energy, and that energy inhabits a wide spectrum of bodies and presentations. I am queer. My queer chosen family and friends understand that who I date does not negate my queerness, and they care more for my happiness then the gender of who I date. My male lover is queer and knows how my attractions work. He likes the boys as well as the girls, and frankly, we enjoy these parts of each other.

Coming out, I felt the pain of rejection from LGBTQ folks. I remember going to lesbian bars in multiple cities and having my intentions questioned. Walking down a long, dark alley to one bar, one of the hottest butches I have ever seen leered and asked, "you here to watch, straight girl?" I escaped to the mecca of San Francisco only to have bouncers demand "you know this is dyke night, right?" If this happened today, I would saucily sashay my way past the bouncers, toss a line to the butch, and walk right in, but I wasn't there a decade ago.

I mistakenly thought that even if it wouldn't be easy, it at least wouldn't be that big a deal to date a man again - but the invisibility is back. As my boyfriend and I walk up to see a movie, I give the butch-femme couple in front of us the smile of shared community. They glare at me with "we-don't-need-your-patronizing-smile-of-acceptance-straight-girl" faces, and a part of me goes cold. I know that smile - I would give it to people as I walked next to my butch, waiting for a gawk at her presentation from the straights around us so that I could glare back. I loved the feeling of community when I smiled at other obviously queer couples.

I went home this weekend with my new boyfriend. My mother's joy hurt. My ex had nursed my mother through multiple painful events, mowed the lawn when she couldn't, gotten drunk with her, but all of this was wiped away by bringing a man home. And she should love him too - he is amazing and wonderful and smart. But she should love him for him, not for his gender.

I don't know where to go from here. I don't want to go back to wearing rainbow buttons, and frankly they don't work with my knee-high boots or strappy sandals. I've made it clear to my mother that I have not changed and that women lovers will always be a part of my life. But some part of me is still waiting to get into the dyke bar. I hate being invisible again, and I hate being in a world that defines my sexuality by the person whose hand I am holding. Even all of my sauciness can't lead me to easy answers or fast retorts, and I'm struggling to find how to be here and queer even while holding my boyfriend's hand.