The B in LGBT+ doesn’t stand for Blank.  Yet so many times I see…
Posted inbiphobia Bivisibility lgbt qtipoc racism

The B in LGBT+ doesn’t stand for Blank.  Yet so many times I see…





The B in LGBT+ doesn’t stand for Blank.  Yet so many times I see events big and small, who have the acronym LGBT, but with zero bisexual input.

“We don’t ask our guests/panelists/speakers sexual orientation,” is something that’s only ever said in response to questions about the lack of bi representation.

“No bisexuals approached us,” is only said when all the letters except B are represented at events.

I can’t imagine a world where someone would run a Pride event, and say “Sorry, no gay groups contacted us, so there won't be any marching in the parade.  Yet this is exactly what London Pride has done (2 years after they let the hate-group, UKIP march).

Pride used to be something that excited me, but it hass joined the long list of places that are racist and biphobic - places I don’t want anything to do with.  And as an isolated alienated person, that just stinks.

Labels are not the Enemy
Posted inbi biphobia

Labels are not the Enemy

I made a little web graphic about something that keeps coming up in conversations around bisexuality both in person and online.While labels are optional, too often they seem to catch the blame for another thing's misdeeds.(shareable online from here...
They don’t need to kill us, when we want to kill ourselvesThey…
Posted inbiphobia bisexuality depression lgbt poems poetry queer racism suicide

They don’t need to kill us, when we want to kill ourselvesThey…



They don’t need to kill us, when we want to kill ourselves


They never think of me when they say LGBT.
They spy young and thin and so, so white
And if their vision widens to invite my body, big and brown,
I will never be named:
I am not one of the queer crowd.

My human shell contains a beating bisexual heart.
But my sound and my shape are scrubbed
Until only a white dream remains,
And bisexuals are left at the back of the Pride parade.
We will never be named.

Whose tears are these?  Whose dreams are gone?
Are questions never asked.
Bisexual erased right off this planet
Gay rainbows as a mask.
The very last thing to cross your mind
As darkness and silence puffs out my flame:
My identity is hated first and last;
A terrible mark of your shame.

Who will listen when I am gone,
To discover an echo on the microphone?
A smudge where a human might have sat:
Bisexual and alone.
My old words will form an image of me.
Incline your ear to my remains.
The silence is never ending now.
Marked in stone, yet never named.

28… years on
Posted inbi biphobia conservatives homophobia labour ldb legalise bi lgbt liberal democrats politics

28… years on

28 years ago today, Section 28 became law. It was not the first thing to make me pay attention to politics, but in the end it would be the biggest motivator in going from armchair to activism.

One of the joys of life today is that when you talk to young people, even politically informed queer young people, you have to explain what it was. Often this is followed by some incredulity that people thought such a thing was OK, let alone a popular vote-winner, just a few years ago. Yet David Cameron got elected into parliament through a campaign that included attacking the politically correct rascals on the other side with their wicked intentions to repeal the law.

Section 28 as it would be known, Section 2A as it more strictly became once law, and "the clause" in popular parlance at the time it was going through parliament, was an amendment to the 1986 Local Government Act, which said:
Prohibition on promoting homosexuality by teaching or by publishing material.

(1)The following section shall be inserted after section 2 of the Local Government Act 1986 (prohibition of political publicity)—
2A“ Prohibition on promoting homosexuality by teaching or by publishing material.

(1)A local authority shall not—

(a)intentionally promote homosexuality or publish material with the intention of promoting homosexuality;

(b)promote the teaching in any maintained school of the acceptability of homosexuality as a pretended family relationship.

(2)Nothing in subsection (1) above shall be taken to prohibit the doing of anything for the purpose of treating or preventing the spread of disease.

(3)In any proceedings in connection with the application of this section a court shall draw such inferences as to the intention of the local authority as may reasonably be drawn from the evidence before it.

(4)In subsection (1)(b) above “maintained school” means,—

(a)in England and Wales, a county school, voluntary school, nursery school or special school, within the meaning of the Education Act 1944; and

(b)in Scotland, a public school, nursery school or special school, within the meaning of the Education (Scotland) Act 1980.”

(2)This section shall come into force at the end of the period of two months beginning with the day on which this Act is passed.
In practice and in intent, Section 28 made homosexuality a thought crime, an act which Russia is busy proving to us was not solely possible off the back of 1980s HIV hysteria, though back in the 80s that probably helped. Despite the "homo" wording it was a bi and trans issue too, as there was such a deep lack of grasp of LGBT in the public consciousness back then.

It was a vague law - I remember hearing one Tory MP defend it to an LGBT audience claiming that as it was so poorly worded it didn't mean anything and therefore couldn't be homophobic in effect and did no harm. Fair play, if you're going to lie, make it a big one.

Actually the looseness of the language meant that it could be argued to prevent anything homophobes in positions of power wanted to stop happening. I saw it used to block information for schoolkids who wanted to know their human rights, to bar newspapers appearing in libraries, and to silence those who wanted to support people struggling with their gender or sexuality.  Even where there was support for gay people, it was used as an excuse to defend biphobia (to paraphrase but not by much, "section 28 means we can't give help or recognition to bi people, as that would encourage straight people to become gay")


It was a populist backbench Conservative bill introduced with Labour support, leaving only the Lib Dems on the other side of the argument. The Lib Dems had slightly more MPs than they do now but were still helplessly outnumbered. Knowing it was unlikely to be stopped outright, Bermondsey MP Simon Hughes brought forward changes that would have watered the measure down, but they lacked support beyond his own party. Labour's grassroots members started pressing their party's MPs to change tack and oppose the measure, but that took some time: and even if they could be persuaded, Margaret Thatcher was sitting on a majority of 100.

And so on May 24th, 1988 it became law.  It was the post-1967 nadir of LGBT equalities in the UK, adding to a litany of inequalities: employment, age of consent, adoption, partnership recognition, pensions, housing and so on.


But it had a galvanising effect on the LGBT community, not least by giving lesbians and gay men a common cause to fight around. Like the baddy in any story, the politically active queer organisations and individuals it spawned would bring about its own downfall, and spur momentum toward the near-equality we have for LGBT people with straight cisgender people today. 


It should have been gone in 1997 when the Tories left power, as the new government had pledged to a tight spending programme but here was something positive for society that could be done at no cost. Alas Labour chose not to include repeal of Section 28 in their manifesto.  In the great tension of "what is right to do" versus "what will upset the Sun and the Daily Mail", they decided that keeping the tabloids on side was more important than childrens' lives. That meant repeal had to wait until the 2001-2005 parliament as the pro-prejudice majority in the Lords blocked repeal. As it wasn't in the manifesto, Labour felt they couldn't overrule the Lords on the subject.

It went in Scotland in 2000 though - one of the prices of coalition the Lib Dems extracted from Labour at Holyrood; in England and Wales it would stick around until 2003.

I was a teenager in 1988, and though I had newspaper cuttings about the clause on my bedroom wall I no longer remember the day the clause became law. I remember the day it went though; for a little while I thought: we have won, it is ended, I can stop fighting now. Then the next day dawned and there was still far too much wrong in the world to rest just yet.
Trigger Warning: Rape, Suicide, AbuseI’ve had depression for…
Posted inActivism anxiety anxious biphobia bisexual bisexuality depression racism

Trigger Warning: Rape, Suicide, AbuseI’ve had depression for…



Trigger Warning: Rape, Suicide, Abuse


I’ve had depression for most of my life.  I have a diagnosis of Borderline Personality Disorder and Post Traumatic Distress Syndrome.  But chronic anxiety was something new to me; until 2014, I’d never experienced it.  Anxiety for me wasn’t simply feeling nervous or on edge.  Anxiety felt like a blazing fire behind me, and barrels of oil around me, just waiting to explode.  Anxiety makes me want to run as fast as I can.  It makes me grind my teeth and clench my fists.

I’m invited to give a talk for a panel on LGBT hate crime at a small London police station.  I’m surrounded by white police officers, most of whom are wearing body armour.  Multiple radios crackle on the table as I clear my throat.  I speak about racism of the police, of how biphobia is different to homophobia.  There is a strange silence around me.  I feel very nervous, but once I start talking I don’t stop until all I’ve wanted to say is done.  The police officers are positive – they ask a lot of questions that show how little they now about biphobia.  I’m happy to answer them with a smile.

I was raped in 2014.  It was not a first for me.  I am a survivor of childhood sexual abuse, which carried on into adulthood and only ended when I ran away aged 22.  Shortly after the assault, I got sick.  I had severe abdominal pains that landed me in hospital twice.  The first of these admissions into Casualty happened on the first day of my new job.  I lost my job whilst in hospital.  I also had a breakdown.  Everything seemed to be happening at once.  Chronic anxiety shoved its way into my life, and it hasn’t left.

I lead a workshop for the British Psychological Society on mental health and LGBT people.  I print out webpages from a few organisations who claim they can help.  Most of these pages only ever use the word Gay.  Any illustrations are of white people.  Bisexuals are never mentioned.  People of colour are never mentioned.  Intersections of oppression are ignored.  I ask the group to look at the sheets and tell the others what they want to see changed; how these organisations could do better.  The participants have lots of ideas.  I’m happy to see their enthusiasm.  As soon as the workshop ends, my stomach bunches into painful knots.  I want to hide in a corner.  I do exactly that until someone I know spots me.


I blame myself some days for being raped.  I feel like I should have known what to do.  I should have been able to stop it.  I should have pushed them away.  I shouldn’t have been frozen in place.  I shouldn’t have waited until they left and I knew I was safe before I started crying.  Anxiety makes it difficult to breathe when I think that way.  Anxiety makes me want to step in front of a bus.  Somehow I keep on living.

Twitter and Tumblr have been lifelines for me; when I was in hospital, it kept me in touch with people I know who live thousands of miles away.  Tumblr in particular lets me see images of people similar to me, all of whom seem to live in the U.S.  Twitter is great, but it is also chock full of mean people who slip into my mentions with racist, biphobic and sexist trash.  My block hand is strong.  But my anxiety is stronger.  I dread clicking on the little bird symbol most days.  Sometimes I want to smash my computer into pieces.  The only thing stopping me is knowing I wouldn’t be able to watch Steven Universe otherwise.

I was a survivor before I started writing this.  I’m a survivor when I speak in front of hundreds of people.  Reading my smutty stories out loud in the past has prepared me well for public speaking.  But when I’m alone, the anxiety barges in to the front of my mind.  When I’m in crowds, I want to disappear into the shadows.  Bisexual activism makes me feel like a confident, competent human.  It also fills me with despair when I see how aggressive it makes (mostly lesbian and gay) people.  I stand on the edge of a knife, trying to balance the positive things my activism can do, with the hatred it exposes me to.  I feel anxiety pushing me on to the blade.

I’m invited to speak at Totnes Pride in Devon.  I accept without hesitation.

LGBT Asia: Thoughts About Bisexuality
Posted inbiphobia bisexuality coming out english heteronormativity homophobia LGBTQ bangladesh masculinity mental health opinion public speaking

LGBT Asia: Thoughts About Bisexuality

I promised a follow up post to the short talk I gave at the Southbank Centre a few weeks ago, so here it is. With anything we write or say beyond cathartic self-expression, I believe the reactions people have to our work are very important to note. Given the short amount of time we had for discussion, I wouldn't say any of us had the chance to fully articulate our positions. As such, I don't want to single anyone out or criticise anyone, and will rather be speaking generally. The below is an amalgamation of themes that arose from discussions after the event had come to a close, and I wanted to expand on certain impressions people seem to have of bisexuality that keep cropping up in my life.

One of the most honest things I've heard in a while was around jealousy, and how gay men and lesbians may be jealous of bisexuals given we are capable of having heterosexual relationships. As perceived by them, this allows us to gain access to heterosexual privileges and shields us from homophobic discrimination. And yet, our realities are often a little more complicated. It's true that heterosexual relationships are still more socially accepted - whether in Bangladesh or the UK. And in Bangladesh, some very significant legal barriers fall away as soon as you are involved with the opposite sex. And so to a certain extent, I can understand the jealousy. It's rooted in how our world is currently structured and not something to be dismissed - although it's important to note it's not this way because of something bisexuals have done. But there is more to it than that. If you're openly bisexual, the homophobia, and indeed the biphobia, don't suddenly go away. We merely face a different set of prejudices and stereotypes when we enter an opposite-sex relationship - the questions about when we're going to cheat, when we're going to “switch” sexualities again, and of course the "everlasting taint" of any same-sex partners from our past. So yes, while we may be able to get married, and get that couple's honeymoon deal no-awkward-questions-asked, acceptance itself can remain an elusive goal.

This brings me to another point often made about how the word bisexual is a label people use to hide behind and lessen stigma. I can understand somewhat, given what I've just written, how coming out as bisexual may sometimes seem easier. At the event, I was told that this was the reason certain gay men in the Asian community come out as bisexual, thereby creating a sense of mistrust around anyone using the term. People wonder if a man claiming to be bisexual is actually gay and I know the story of the bi-now, gay-later men is an oft repeated one. How these men navigate between these identities can vary, and I've been told by several that the label of bisexuality was in fact a safe halfway house for them. But for others, their sexualities have been fluid, and the change in labels was more an honest necessity. And beyond this are those who are in fact still bisexual, but the biphobia and lack of understanding makes it easier for them live out their lives as gay men. There's a myriad of possibilities here, and it's important to take each story and consider its merits without generalising. The truth is no one really knows what's going on in someone else'd mind, and so no one really know what someone else's sexuality is. Passing judgement is risky business, and often judgement passed is through a prejudiced lens. Effeminate men seem to be one of the biggest targets here – apparently some guys are such queens that there is no way they could be bisexual. However, the reality is someone's mannerisms do not define who they are attracted to or aroused by. If we stripped away the heteronormative assumption that traditionally defined masculine men are the only ones capable of being attracted to women, this would be easier for a lot of us to see.

Going back to the original point about stigma, I also question if telling people you are bisexual really does protect someone from prejudice within South Asian communities, diaspora or otherwise. Based on the personal experiences of myself and others, I cannot imagine how identifying as bisexual instead of homosexual would make coming out significantly easier. Any confessed attraction to the same-sex can be taken with surprise, seen as an abnormality or met with hostility – regardless of whether it comes packaged as bisexuality or homosexuality. To add a more specific biphobic dimension, when some Bangladeshi people hear I am a bisexual man they seem to assume not all hope is lost for me. I am seen as fixable, and continual suggestions to fix me are made - I can still find the right woman after all, unlike a gay man who is condemned to his fate.

I will end this here, as this is not meant to be an exhaustive post on the dynamics of bisexuality and prejudice, similar to how our discussions themselves were not exhaustive. I hope at least some parts of what I've written have been accessible and relatable. I know biphobia is a topic more and more people are writing about nowadays, and so I remain positive that we are moving in the right direction. I'd also like to thank everyone who attended on the day (if any of you are reading!), because it is events like these that also serve to build bridges where there may be none!

NO PLACE FOR FASCISM AT PRIDEUKiP aim to march at London LGBT…
Posted inbiphobia homophobia lgbt pride queer racism transphobia

NO PLACE FOR FASCISM AT PRIDEUKiP aim to march at London LGBT…



NO PLACE FOR FASCISM AT PRIDE


UKiP aim to march at London LGBT Pride.  For those not in the know, UKIP are a political party that wants the UK to have laws in place that would stop HIV+ people entering the country.  They want Christians to be able to discriminate against LGBT people.  They want Immigrants out, and whites in.  This party is incredibly poisonous.  However they have a LGBT group, and this group wants to join in pride, complete with UKIP banners and a sense of hatred.

London Pride has a history of being aimed at white gay men, with anyone else pretty much ignored.  UKIP marching at Pride isn’t just something that will affect People of Colour though; it affects everyone.  UKIP may not have a policy on LGBT people, but their councillors have said some very LGBT-phobic things in the past.  There is no place for them at this celebration.

On a personal note, I have recently taken over as the Black and Minority Ethnic persons rep on the Pride Community Advisory Board.  I wasn’t told that UKIP were marching on the parade.  It was only by accident that I found out about it. I feel that the officers of Pride have ignored non-white LGBT folks yet again.  But this time I am not going to be silent, and you don’t have to be either.


Send an email to http://prideinlondon.org/contacts/ and let them know what you think.

You can also sign the petition here: https://www.change.org/p/the-board-and-senior-team-pride-in-london-board-remove-ukip-from-london-pride-march-2015