CW: classism, sexism, toxic masculinity, homophobia/biphobia/transphobia mention, mental health TW: addiction, self-medicating, narcotics, alcoholism I thought I'd follow on from the theme of my last post. For a while I’ve wanted to talk about my exper...
Zine Fairs, or a Blizzard on a trestle tableI started making zines on Christmas Day 2014. There was no snow, no blizzard then; that was reserved for later wen I started selling zines at fairs. Zine events are white; really white, no matter where they...
People of Colour at BiCon: Are we really welcome there?
@Angreebindii works in Higher Education. She has a background in political activism and social justice campaigns. She is QTIPOC, disabled, a trade union organiser and is mostly angry about inequality.
Bicon is the UK’s largest and most consistent event dedicated to the bisexual community. It is the amalgamation of both a conference and a convention, hence the name Bicon. Bicon explores a whole spectrum of issues relating to bisexuality, kink and sex positivity. It came about in the mid-1980s after an event titled ‘The Politics of Bisexuality’ was the first to be organised in London, 1984. What followed was a series of similar events after fully concretising into Bicon shortly after. It is a yearly event where the management and delivery of the event is democratically run.
This year’s event was the second I attended. And it may well be my last. In fact, my first Bicon was on the cusp of being my last. My first Bicon was rifled racism. I found myself swimming in meagre attendance of people of colour in an oppressive sea of white attendees. It was an unsafe space fraught with white dreadlocks and well-meaning pretty white bindis. It also consisted of culturally appropriative events organised and led by white people. These included meditation mornings and tantric sex type of sessions. This year’s Bicon was pretty much of the same old white thing. Even with Bicon’s sponsorship of first time Bis of Colour attendees, this year’s event was quite white.
There have always been ongoing Bicon issues with whiteness. However, this year took more than an uncomfortable turn and it shook me. The organisers booked in Spectrum, the LGBT arm of the Home Office and praised the presence a uniformed Police Officer at the event. Many members from the Bis of Colour were uncomfortable and felt unsafe. I took to Twitter to highlight the issue. The response was mixed. At one point, it got very frustrating. My ‘views’ were disputed however, those of white people were not. For example: I, a migrant of colour got whitesplained about the police & the Home Office. However, ex-employees of the Home Office received support and compassion for stating the same thing as I did.
The very same weekend the police were aiding racists to attack people of colour in Charlottesville, Bicon was sharing pro-police & Home Office tweets. At the event, organisers and attendees were friendly and complicit with their presence. The lack of sensitivity, disrespect and outright racism at the expense of people of colour was hurtful. It certainly felt that our bisexuality counted less than white queers.
The presence of organisations linked to institutions such as the Home Office and the police is not only racist due to how the people of colour are treated but how our sexuality is discriminated against. Bicon organisers decided to defend their presence. That was racist as well a biphobic, classist, ableist and sexist. Their discrimination towards us were intersecting. The Home Office’s abhorrent treatment of queer, disabled, and women refugees cannot be ignored. The same is with the police. In fact, the police are responsible for killing people of colour due to the colour of their skin. These facts are not ignored by white queers at Bicon - they are debated then negated.
Following from these debates I had about Bicon, I decided that enough was enough.
Bisexuals of colour are told to engage in the event’s organisational processes. We are encouraged to attend, to contribute, and to make complaints within the existing structures. And when we do, we are thanked and our ‘views’ appreciated. However, those views, which in stark reality are in fact outright experiences of discrimination, are only ever just acknowledged. Racism becomes diluted to ‘microaaggression’ and ‘cultural appropriation’ almost as if that is an optional form of being discriminated against. It is as if we, queers of colour, choose to feel discriminated, hence actual change to create decolonised queer spaces become optional. That is all too convenient to white LGBT types. It suits them that we have done our job and contributed. And they have done their bit, they have acknowledged us. So the matter is closed.
Except that for us, queers of colour – the discrimination is ongoing. So each year, we have to do the same, contribute and be muted. It goes on until it becomes all too much for queers of colour. Then sometimes we let the less worse things slide. At other times, we get traumatised, burnt out and angry. Or just angry. Often we need to distance ourselves and take breaks whilst we carry on being racially discriminated against. All the while the racism never stops and nor do the white excuses. Hence, for us the racism never ends.
If we demand our rights, we are told that we are insensitive and unreasonable. We are told to appreciate that Bicon ‘is run by volunteers’. We are told that it takes a lot to organise an event. We are told that organisers get burnt out. We are told that it is a structural issue. All in all, we are told many things and are reduced to feel like misunderstanding children. At the end of the day, all those things we are told are white excuses for racial bias. Respectability for the structure and the ‘volunteers’ outweigh our struggle to exist safely as bisexuals/queers of colour.
Bicon has been going for over 30 years, yet people of colour still face the brunt of bi-racism. I have been involved in political work since I was seventeen years old so I understand the dynamics of oppression. I have experienced such exclusive behaviours far too much. So for it to happen again, for me, is unacceptable.This is why I have made my decision.
Bicon and its white apologists are not worth my time. In an act of decolonised queer self-love, Bicon will never be graced by my powerful and important presence. Not until, real action occurs. By that I mean at least 1) a consistent increase of Bis of Colour year on year 2) a stronger decolonised code of conduct 3) the proper enforcement of the code of conduct 4) the end to cultural appropriation 4) POC focused session *run* by POCs 5) intersectionality.
I encourage other queers of colour and their allies to demand the same. We need to stand up and own our power. It is an act of self-love to break an abusive relationship. People of colour everywhere deserve to be respected and valued. Until those changes in Bicon happen, we should stand up and demand change. Bicon’s reward would be our presence. And until then we will thrive by organising together our own events as queers of colour – in a decolonised act of self-love.
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.
Fat people who survived abuse/violence & have mental/internal scars
Fat women/femmes who don’t wear, or can’t access make up
Fat women/femmes who are bald or balding
Fat women/femmes who aren’t hourglass or pear shaped
Fat people who are older
Fat people who can’t afford or can’t access the latest fashions
Fat people who are super-fat/super-sized
Fat people who are genderqueer or nonbinary
Fat people of colour who live outside of North America
Fat people who are disabled
Fat people with multiple oppressions
Fat liberation is for you too. You will probably never see yourself reflected in anything, mainstream or alternative. You will probably feel let down by body positivity and fat positivity. But you count. You matter.
I’m not vegan but this post is. I have a food sensitivity to lactose (milk-based food) and I’m also diabetic. When my partner became vegetarian, it made sense to me for us both to be vegan, instead of cooking two seperate dishes at mealtimes. I’m no longer vegan, but the things I learned during that time have stayed with me. I have an appreciation of vegetables that I used to hate before; I grew to love tofu more than anything (except peanut butter). I also learned how to make the most of what I have in the cupboard instead of buying (often expensive) vegan substitutes. I still make homemade chocolate, nut milks, vegan chicken nuggets & ice cream, even though I stopped identifying as vegan years ago.
Sadly, the few black vegans I encountered were for the most part deeply problematic too - often so Afrocentric that anything & anyone who didn't come straight from a Anhk-Right, Hotep conference was shunned. That included my black, british, bisexual backside.
Racist white folks broke my heart. Power wasn’t just unbalanced in our relationships, it was positively skewed. My choice of partners for a quick shag, wham bang, see you later, could be wide as I want. Yet anything else; deeper relationships, down on one knee proposals were for white folks and their polycules alone.
When I realised I could not be Polyamorous in this society, I felt like a failure. Poly wasn’t something I did - it was who I was. Had I lied to myself all this time? Surely love conquers all? My heartbreak was a brutal crack in the core of my being. I knew I’d never recover that loving feeling, the full expression of how I navigate sex and relationships.
I’ve experienced racism all my life, yet nothing could have prepared me for racism from people who said they loved me. I cannot imagine the cognitive tangle of thoughts and actions that lead to such a thing, but down in my bones, I knew I was never seen as a full human to them. My breasts, my heart and my lips could express my love in acceptable ways, but my skin would forever undermine all of that in their eyes.
I have received white tears, white guilt, but never white respect or action when I was bereft. I just get silence.
Most of my partners have been white. My two black boyfriends both put me in hospital, but white partner’s violence was a slow terrible poison. How could I fight against an assumption? What moves can combat neglect? When my every action paints me as the angry black person, what do I do? How do I react?
Letting go of things hurt, but it means my shoulders no longer slump from the strain of carrying such a heavy load. I can now walk upright instead of wishing I were taller, less bent over. My arms and my hands are empty for the first time - empty and open to embrace whatever comes next. And if nothing comes, I can hold myself.
When white Poly people don’t see People of Colour as human, we become disposable. We don’t consider the feelings of a piece of paper - we write on it, use it up and when we are done, throw it in the bin and pick up another sheet. This is what happens to Poly People of Colour. White folks fetishise us, especially if we are LGBT+ and/or into kink. We are hypervisible in a sea of white faces, but once we serve our purpose, we are ignored, neglected or mistreated. We are never primary partners; we are interchangeable and something to add spice to your white vanilla world.
Poly People of Colour are at a disadvantage. We face many issues that white people never will. Most of us don’t have the family, money, energy or time resources white people have. We are more likely to experience domestic violence, sexual assault, poverty and physical/mental issues. We shouldn’t have to factor in a broken heart to all of the above.
My identity of Poly turned into an identity of trash. Rejecting the label will lead to yet more isolation for me, but it will be an honest isolation instead of the pretence of community and belonging. I do not want to be a square on someone’s bingo card of experiences. I deserve better.
I have so much love to give. I don’t want to close off my heart because of racism, but what choice do I have? You may not want to marry me or anyone else, but I ask white Poly people to be upfront and honest with your desires. Don’t tell me you love me if it isn’t so. If all you want is a hookup with no contact after, say it. I may turn you down, but I’ll respect your honesty. Right now I don’t respect you at all.
Content note: Swearing. And when I start swearing, you know shit’s bad.
So which one comes first? Are you black or fat first? Are you LGBT+ or fat first? These are questions that need to piss off and die immediately. I cannot seperate myself into palatable components for your digestion. I could draw a Venn diagram of how they all overlap, but sadly the people who ask these sort of things don’t want to learn - they want you prove yourself. Spoiler alert: you will never be worthy to them.
If you discuss fatphobia, but never mention how race affects how you are treated, then what the everlasting fuck are you doing? Fat liberation is blindingly white, cisgender and heterosexual. These are the voices who get heard, whose articles appear in popular media. These are the people who can afford to attend Fat/Body positivity conferences and know they will receive a warm welcome. They will never be the only one of their ethnicity in a group of fat folks.
If you discuss fatphobia, but never mention how fat LGBT+ people (with a few Bear-shaped exceptions) are subject to punishing drives of fat hate; how poverty affects fat LGBT+ people of colour differently than their white counterparts, then take the first exit out of here, you useless cumstain.
I am thoroughly sick of the white, able-bodied cisfemale gaze being the only thing I see in fat liberation. I am tired of their voices as the only ones amplified. And I could happily live the rest of my life without reading another piece on fatphobia that only concentrates of American white women who are at the smaller end of the fatness scale.
I want to read about experiences of disabled fats, LGBT+ fats who are black or brown, fat folks who are elderly and/or poor. Because we are the ones who face multiple oppressions, who can’t afford to shop the latest fat celebrity lines (I’m looking at you, Beth Ditto) to look incredible. We are the ones who get written out of conversations time and again, even though we have been speaking out for decades.
So all you gusset-tickling, wankers can just shut your mouths for one shit-stained minute. The rest of us would like a chance to be heard.
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.
I can’t believe it’s taken me so long to realise this is me. This is me in bisexual communities. This is me in activism spaces. This is me in my friend groups. This is me in the whole damn world.
