Structural issues with BiCon. Or why I’m not returning unless I see some changes.
BiCon is run by volunteers in the bisexual community. Every year the organisers change. If an organiser screws up, often nothing is done, cos they won’t be there next year (usually). Last year an organiser made paedophile jokes during the cabaret, mocked non-binary people & was generally inappropriate. Very little was done, even though lots of people complained & were in tears (including me) at the Paedophile thing. There’s nothing to guarantee the same won’t happen this year or the next, because they’re never held accountable. The same guy who caused the upset last year (breaking several BiCon Code of Conduct rules in the process) wasn’t thrown out of the Con. If an attendee had done that, they’d be told to leave immediately. It’s been almost a year since that incident, but I haven’t heard or seen anything on BiCon website apologising about it, or even mentioning it.
When I’ve brought up problems in the past, I’ve often been told “We’re just volunteers! We don’t get paid to do this!” This is a silencing tactic, which minimises the power that these volunteers have. It’s like saying, “Shut up and be grateful!”
Another issue is the constant lack of engagement with bisexuals of colour. The highest attendance (20+) we had was the year a donor gave BiCon funding to subsidise free places for People of Colour, disabled and working class. The next year there was nothing, and the attendance went down to about 5 bi’s of colour. Nobody on organising teams wants to look at the fact that bi’s of colour are more likely to be unemployed or on low wages - due to racism. If we can’t get subsides places, we simply can’t go. I’ve been saying this since 2008, and nobody seems to listen. At the same time, I keep getting asked how BiCon can become more accessible and diverse. This just feels like the minimum amount of lip service.
I’ve been a bisexual activist for years. BiCon has been the highlight of each of those years. BiCon needs to look at the structure of organising the event. BiCon Continuity could possibly include this in their remit too. Because until things change, and I feel safer attending, I’m not going back.
This photo was taken by Barry Boubah to show how diverse New York is. It was a celebration, however, a far-right group used it to mock them instead. This in turn made people say that this is indeed the kind of future they want, where different people can exist in peace together. I started thinking of the future bisexual people in the U.K may want, with all the silly/serious things that involves. So I wrote a poem about it.
The future bisexuals want
By Jacq A.
Late night cake, biscuit and sex toy shops.
Gripping drama on tv where bi characters don’t get shot.
Cheesy discos around the clock:
The is the future bisexuals want.
For OKCupid to stop being so shit.
Bi’s of all genders on magazine covers looking fit.
LGBT organisations remembering bi people exist!
This is the future bisexuals want.
Bigoted lesbian & gays to stop being tiresome.
Straights to stop asking us for threesomes.
Constant Torchwood Seasons 1 & 2 re-runs!
This is the future bisexuals want.
We’re not asking for very much you know?
Just cake and sex and good sci-fi shows.
And basic respect - it should’nt be too hard to think of.
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.
The myth that black men love fat women needs to get in a volcano
Is it easy Being black and fat? Do you enjoy random men telling you “I’d hit that!” Are you attracted to those who insult you on the street? Or at family gatherings When relatives you meet Tell you nobody wants you when you’re fat. But oh, black guys are supposed to love that!
Is it easy when you’re not thin And black, like how do you even fit in? Folks look away when I catch their eye And don’t get me started when they find out I’m bi. I’m not butch, and I hate the styles of the 1950’s So I have to learn to dress a little differently. But it’s not easy, not easy at all. You should hear the names I get called! I’m not hourglass shaped or light-skinned at that. My belly has rolls and I am fat!
So no, your racist ideas don’t help me one bit. When you think I have it easier, you perpetuate a myth. Fat liberation is blindingly pale; Your racial oppression keeps me down on the scale. The lines on my skin aren’t just stretch marks, But self inflicted pain I cannot get past.
So sure, say it’s easy being black and fat. Look the other other way as I deal with this crap. And if liberation for fat folks Don’t include queers of colour at the heart of it, Then we’ll done, sister: Your movement’s full of shit!
Bisexuals have higher rates of suicideality, mental and physical health problems, Poverty, homelessness etc than cis lesbian and gay people. Black people have the highest rates too.
Where do you think this leaves black bi people, especially thoae of us who are also Trans and cis women/ gender Variant?
This is how the journey goes for me: loneliness, isolation and desperation. It happens in that order, although it should never have to happen at all. As a bisexual person of colour, my chances for socialising are not that high. Racism, biphobia and misogynoir is an awfully powerful mixture to deal with. I cannot separate myself into palatable pieces others find easier to digest. I cannot and should not even be thinking of myself like that. This is the first part of the journey. I start to make compromises; hell we al do in some ways. But for bisexual people, we compromise when we hide parts of ourselves - our sexual orientation from others just to feel closer,to feel accepted and less of a freak. That trick may work for a while, but to have any kind of self respect means that sooner or later, it will become a stone in our mouth. The truth will out, and even if it only comes out to ourselves, it will still feel like a betrayal.
I am a social person; as much as I need time alone, I still want to be with others. Spending half my life with an immediate family whose numbers were more than twenty people, doesn’t make it easy for me to cook for one, to talk to no one, to always be alone. Rejection is a thing I’ve known; from my abusive family, from lesbians and gays, and white bisexuals too. Loneliness is a thing I’ve had to deal with for so long. Loneliness isn’t just the absence of others, but for me, it’s the thing that leads to isolation and desperation. Loneliness is me sitting in a gay bar and feeling like I have the word ‘Bisexual’ stamped on my forehead, as folks ignore me. Loneliness is me having no reflection of my life when I look in the Voice newspaper, or Ebony and Essence magazine.
Isolation is a structural result of biphobia, racism and misogynoir in LGBT and straight communities. It is a process that makes me actively alone. Isolation silences and squashes my attempts to be a member of communities where I could belong. Now don’t get me wrong - I give a lot of talks on bisexuality, mental health and racism. I write a lot of blog posts, articles and pieces too. But as soon as I switch off my computer, I disappear. When I end my talk, I become an unwanted guest in someone else’s space. Isolation gives more power to biphobia, racism and misogynoir that is directed at me constantly. Isolation is LGBT events that are too expensive for me to ever afford to attend. Isolation is having community events in pubs, when I sometimes cannot bear to be around alcohol or drunk people. The feeling that I will be alone forever is what makes isolation so cruel; it takes away any vision of a future I may have dreamed of, and leaves nothing but silence in its wake.
Desperation is the cold side of the bed when my abusive ex-boyfriend finally left. Desperation is the fact that I stayed with him so long, despite the fact that he said I was no better than a whore. The loss of self respect; the journey I’d been on since loneliness became my partner, led me to that place. There are worse things than being alone - I know that, but I am ashamed at what loneliness and isolation has made me do. I’m not making excuses either. I know that isolation is a tactic many abusive people use to separate their victims from possible sources of help and support. But when I face so any types of oppression on a daily basis, I am often afraid to face the alternatives of an empty room, an empty bed and an empty life.
Another tactic abusive people use is to make you feel grateful for any crumbs of affection and attention they toss your way. It is not easy for me to write this, but I have been there, scrabbling around on the floor, searching for anything to feed my starving heart, even when I knew there was a high probability it would only men a boot on my back. Loneliness, isolation and desperation are weapons in the wrong hands. There is no need for these states to be mis-used, but so often I find that they are. When I exist as an already marginalised person, unwilling to be accepted by the communities I could be part of, I am at risk of being treated poorly. The stone in my mouth; the silence in my home; the distance I have travelled on this journey, are all symptoms of how broken this society is. This is the world where women are devalued, racism is excused, nonbinary folks are ignored and bisexuals are never believed to even exist. This is my world and I am a part of it, clinging to the edge of the flattened globe, trying not to tumble into the dark unknown as I make my way to something more. Something better.
I’ve attended 2 events so far for LGBT History Month. Both events were clear that they were inclusive of bisexuals, unlike most LGBT history month events that are LGGGGGG….t
The launch of Expansions at Watney Street Library was fab! Several artists and creators presented their work on the walls. There was also an eclectic mix of readings and coming out stories, where I learned a new phrase for cunilingus - ice-poling!
The Bi’s of Colour celebration was held at Peckham Library. I gave a talk on history of bisexual people of colour - from Gilgamesh to Grace Jones. There was also a lot of excited chatting about the future of the group.
I’ve been generally disappointed by the exclusion of bisexual people in LGBT History Month (as I am every single year). My email to the organisers was completely ignored, as white cisgender people dominate the entire month. Saying “bisexuals are covered within LGBT content” is meaningless when we are erased nine times out of ten.
Tomorrow i’ll be off to Bristol to deliver my bisexual history talk again at the national festival event. I was only contacted to do this because someone on the organising team realised they didn’t have ANY bisexual content. This is beyond poor. But this is what often seems to happen.
Lesbian and gay folks, you all need to do so much better!
2015 was not a good year for me. In 2015, I was lied to, gaslighted and let down by people I thought were friends. I was given a new mental health diagnosis. I self-harmed less, but was suicidal more.
There were good parts in 2015: I helped to raise funds for Bi’s of Colour, I appeared at number 58 on the Independent on Sunday’s Rainbow List, and I stood up for my convictions by standing up against the White lesbian and gay PR machine.
2015 was the year when impossible things happened: a fascist hate group (UKIP) had their gay group as part of London LGBT Pride. The head of London Pride appeared on the Politics Show laughing at how he managed to get the hate group safely in the parade (by pushing the African lesbian and gay immigration group out of the way). This is the year that saw me resign from the Community Advisory Board of London Pride (They still haven’t refilled the Black member’s seat).
Other impossible things occurred: The bloody Conservatives got back into power, despite voters knowing how much damage they’ve already done. We as a country decided the best way to help Syrian refugees was to bomb Syria. Steven Universe became even better and queerer than ever. But one of the happiest and most impossible things was being able to meet a bisexual musical icon I have loved since I was thirteen years old. I met Tom Robinson at the Rainbow List Awards Vodka appreciation ceremony. He gave me a massive hug, and didn’t mind at all when I threatened to cry on his shoulder with gratitude.
I sincerely hope that 2016 is better than this year, but if it isn’t, at least I’ll have the hug of a lifetime as something next year can never top.
2015 was not a good year for me. In 2015, I was lied to, gaslighted and let down by people I thought were friends. I was given a new mental health diagnosis. I self-harmed less, but was suicidal more.
There were good parts in 2015: I helped to raise funds for Bi’s of Colour, I appeared at number 58 on the Independent on Sunday’s Rainbow List, and I stood up for my convictions by standing up against the White lesbian and gay PR machine.
2015 was the year when impossible things happened: a fascist hate group (UKIP) had their gay group as part of London LGBT Pride. The head of London Pride appeared on the Politics Show laughing at how he managed to get the hate group safely in the parade (by pushing the African lesbian and gay immigration group out of the way). This is the year that saw me resign from the Community Advisory Board of London Pride (They still haven’t refilled the Black member’s seat).
Other impossible things occurred: The bloody Conservatives got back into power, despite voters knowing how much damage they’ve already done. We as a country decided the best way to help Syrian refugees was to bomb Syria. Steven Universe became even better and queerer than ever. But one of the happiest and most impossible things was being able to meet a bisexual musical icon I have loved since I was thirteen years old. I met Tom Robinson at the Rainbow List Awards Vodka appreciation ceremony. He gave me a massive hug, and didn’t mind at all when I threatened to cry on his shoulder with gratitude.
I sincerely hope that 2016 is better than this year, but if it isn’t, at least I’ll have the hug of a lifetime as something next year can never top.
