Gah, so true. The Willow thing confused me, also, when I started watching Buffy. Years ago, I'd acquired (through cultural osmosis) the knowledge that Willow WAS TOTALLY A LESBIAN OMG, which is why I was confused when she crushed on Xander and dated Oz for the first half of the show. When she fell in love with Tara, I was like "Oh, okay... but doesn't this make her, oh I don't know, bisexual, and not a lesbian?"

God, it's no wonder I was so frickin' confused about my sexuality for so long. I barely understood that bisexuality (or any kind of fluid sexuality) existed until I went to college and met people who identified that way. Like, I knew gay/lesbian people in high school, but because it was always presented as an either/or situation (you can either like men OR women), I never found a way of identifying my own feelings and attractions.

Did anyone else have this problem?

Pride was this weekend. I went with Paul, Amanda and Todd (who were in town visiting), and Rebekah and Jonathan.

It was amazing. It was happy. People danced and shouted and wore costumes and families waved to the crowds, organizations that support a thousand different, awesome causes (women's health, trans health, gay adoption, queer groups from every geographic region conceivable...) and, in probably the only instance of corporate endorsement that I find heartening in any way, major companies sponsored gigantic, rainbow colored floats. HELLS YEAH. It was so happy.

I was happy. I wore my "Gay on Tuesdays" shirt (I'm gay on Tuesdays, straight on Thursdays, and queer the rest of the week) shirt and my rainbow wristband and within ten minutes of standing next to the parade route I had rainbow beads around my neck*. And I was HAPPY. Seriously. Ask the people with me. I was grinning from ear to ear and doing little dances in the street. The energy was infectious.

As the day wore on and the excitement wound down, I started giving some serious contemplation to my own identity.

I still remember my first crush on a woman. I was in high school, and madly in love with a freckle faced soccer player who sat in front of me in English class. We were good friends, and spent our spare time discussing the merits of Moulin Rouge and Fried Green Tomatoes.

I still remember the feeling that I had when I realized that I liked her. (Or, as a high school student would say, I LIKED her, liked her.) It was physical and emotional, it was strange and exciting. I felt all of the ropey bits of my insides twisting into impossible formations when she walked into the room, when she stayed over at my house. Nothing ever happened. But I still remember the thrill of the crush, the giddy desperation of want for the unattainable.

When I came out in college, I immediately identified as bisexual. It made the most sense to me, at least then. As time progressed, and I continued to live and explore and learn and read, I increasingly referred to myself as "queer," because (unlike bisexual) it didn't imply that my attraction fell on either side of a gender binary. And I liked that. It worked well on me.

But other things were happening around this time, too. A good friend told me, unequivocally, that she didn't believe that bisexuality existed (but was rather a "path" to being gay or straight). A woman who I was interested in (who identified as a lesbian) rejected me not on the basis of who I was, but rather the fact that I still liked boys. "I don't date bisexual women," she said. "It's just more trouble than it's worth." Some men became more interested when they learned that I liked girls, some girls became less interested because I liked boys. Some people didn't care. And some people didn't understand.

And thus began my struggle with visibility.

Visibility was a concept I'd never given much thought to, until that point. After all, I knew I was queer, and my friends knew, and after a while, my family knew, and what else really mattered?

And sometimes it didn't matter. Most people that I encountered didn't really blink at my sexuality, when it became apparent (thank you, God, for hyper-liberal university campuses). But I still felt... I don't know. Strange. Like, I felt the need to prove that I'm queer, even when I'm dating a boy. My well-intentioned family struggles with this; the sentence "You're dating a boy... so, you're not gay anymore, right?" comes up WAY too often. I wish I could just say "Even if I married Johnny Depp tomorrow and lived with him, monogamous, until we both died fifty years later, I would STILL be queer" and have it be understood.

The other issue is that of privilege. Straight people have privileges that gay people do not have. I fall into this weird middle category where I don't actually have these privileges, but I sometimes accidentally co-opt some of them without intending to, simply because I'm dating a man. Example from the linked-to list:

I can walk in public with my significant other and not have people double-take or stare.

I - me, specifically, at this moment - can walk in public with my significant other and not have people double-take or stare. But this isn't because I'm straight; it's because I'm a queer woman dating a man. Those things are different, but similar. I don't know how to reconcile that.

And it makes me feel weird. It makes me... unhappy. Not because I relish in the struggle of being queer (no one enjoys suffering, after all), but because it makes me feel like an outsider. It makes me feel like I'm unfairly co-opting straight privilege. It makes me feel like I'm not visible enough, or not queer enough.

And that is why I love Pride. I love Pride because it gives me a chance to run around and celebrate my queerness*, and not feel like I'm hidden or invisible simply by being.

Maybe this is a manifestation of my own insecurities. Maybe I'm handwringing over how others perceive me far too much. Maybe I'm blinded by my own privilege, and I can't suss out precisely how I feel as a result. But I want to be understood for who I am, not who people think I am.



*This is why Pride is infinitely better than Mardi Gras: you get beads for just being happy and cheering, and not flashing your breasts at strangers.
*And to be completely supported in all of this by my awesome, awesome boyfriend.

I'm super glad that next week's House is going to feature the character of Thirteen exploring her bisexuality. I love it when bisexuality is given real airtime with a very legitimate space (as opposed to bisexuality for shock value, for titillating the male gaze, etc).

Olivia Wilde is freaking gorgeous, and luckily for the scene, she's kissed a woman before (Mischa Barton, on The O.C.), which makes it (in my opinion) really realistic. And, as After Ellen points out, it always helps when the writer of the scene is queer herself (Liz Friedman, former Xena writer).

For the record, the actual scene is longer and more serious - the clip below is just the fun part. :D I really love when Thirteen grabs her hair towards the end and runs her hands over her face and mouth - so hot.

Anyway, enjoy this clip. I know that I'll be watching next week.

( behind a cut 'cause it's autoplay )

Katy Perry's new song, I Kissed A Girl, is indeed sexy and catchy and yay for queer girls in the spotlight.

But let us not forget Jill Sobule's I Kissed a Girl, which is a cute and excellent song as well, with lyrics like "I kissed a girl, her lips were sweet / she was just like kissing me"

Hello, everyone! Okay, time to put this friendslist to work. ;P

As some of you may or may not know, I'm a filmmaker in Washington, DC. Anyway, right now, I am producing a short segment of a documentary (working title: "AmBIguous Dating") on bisexual dating. The segment is being directed by filmmaker Giovanna Chesler (her website can be found here).

As two bisexual women who are also navigating the world of dating, we are looking for stories. Your stories. Stories of bisexuals and their experiences in the dating world, and about problems that are unique to the bisexual dating scene.

Have you gone on a date and not been sure that it was actually a date? Have you ever revealed your bisexuality to your date, only to be met with antagonism? In other words, how does your sexuality make dating more complicated or difficult? Or does it at all?

We want stories of all kinds. Funny stories, tragic stories, heartbreakingly lovely stories. This is open to both bisexual men and bisexual women of all ages. Your story could have been about last week's date fiasco, or one that occurred twenty years ago.

(Please note: the scope of this piece is limited to bisexual dating, not bisexual relationships.)

If you're located in DC, and we choose one of your stories, we will possibly be conducting camera interviews (though if you want your story to be anonymous, that's not a problem in the slightest). If you're not located in this area - send your stories anyway! If we choose to use your story, we will contact you in order to have you fill out a standard release form (which gives us permission to use your story/interview). Additionally, if your story is chosen, we will send out an email with updates on where the film is being shown.

If you think you have a story for us, send it our way (along with any questions that you might have). Put the story in the body of an email and send it to carmen.machado@gmail.com. Please put "AmBIguous Dating" somewhere in the subject line.

Additionally, if you feel like you know someone who has a story to tell, by all means, forward this information to them. Feel free to repost it in other communities and blogs. Spread the word! I can't wait to hear what you all have to say.

Thank you so much. :)

Happy National Coming Out Day!

More information here.

Yay! :)

This video of the mayor of San Diego supporting gay marriage made me cry.

I am so tired right now.

Tonight, my dad and I sat on the back porch as he grilled during a wicked thunderstorm. He was trying to give me... I don't know. Advice, encouraging words. Or something.

As I sat there, tracing patterns on the glass table in the dirt with my finger, he gave me a hug and said, "You're a beautiful girl. You know, you better find some guy... er, some person who will love you and treat you well."

I snorted. "Don't hold your breath," I said. He looked distressed by this. He flipped a burger over on the grill and then waved the spatula in the air.

"Men have small brains," he said, unhelpfully. "It's a well known fact."

"Thanks, Dad."

"I think you shouldn't be with someone quite as extroverted and excitable as you, though. Maybe with someone a little more introverted than you are."

"Okay, Dad."

"But not too introverted. I mean, it should be 'Carmen and Adrian.' Or whatever."

I grinned. "Is Adrian a girl's name or a boy's name?"

He sort of smiled, shrugged, and went back to the grill. "I made that deliberately ambiguous."

I laughed. "Thanks."