Refusing to be Defined — A “Political Slut?”
Pandemic loneliness was not supposed to be a thing for me. After all, I am proudly anti-social. So when I found myself downloading the Bumble app onto my phone one night, I started to wonder if I was spiraling into an identity crisis. Am I really this lonely? Or perhaps just bored? Either way, I start swiping.
As I scroll through Bumble, I think: should I label myself as a lesbian so that women won’t shun me or should I label myself as bisexual and suffer through getting bombarded with “hot couple looking for a third” messages? I ask my menagerie of pet dogs — maybe I really am a lesbian — this question over a bottle of Santa Margherita Pinot Grigio, but none of them have anything to contribute to the conversation.
Being a bisexual woman all my life has often come with the misconstrued notion that I would just bang anybody or that I’m a “slut.” Men automatically assume they’ll get a threesome, which often leads to embarrassing and dehumanizing situations where you find yourself having to explain that you don’t want to have sex with the girl in the back seat on the car ride home from the bar simply because you’ve had sex with women before.
Then, on the flip side, many lesbians won’t consider dating bisexual women because we have “man-cooties” from having sex with men, or they worry that we won’t be satisfied without a penis (even though not all men have penises), and will eventually leave them for a man. It can be very confusing and quite lonely at times.
As I continued to swipe through the app, agonizing over every cute girl who has “no bisexuals” listed on her profile, I realized this feeling was all too familiar. It reminded me of a time a few years ago when dating apps allowed their users to add a political filter to their profile picture. Given the stark division plaguing our country, I assume this made it easier for people to weed out those who don’t share their political views. For someone like me who is registered as “no party,” I felt as though I didn’t quite fit in. I have very liberal views but have a hard time subscribing to any definitive political party because while I lean left, I don’t agree with every liberal platform or all of any one candidate’s policies. To give an example, I voted for Obama, but I certainly didn’t support everything he did and I even found myself agreeing with John McCain at times despite the fact that he was a hardcore Republican.
I began to worry… was I a political “slut”?
Are there parallels between not wanting to commit to a political party and being perceived as unable to commit romantically as a bisexual woman?
I toss my phone to the side in frustration, my dogs now very interested in what was happening with me. As I sip my wine and scratch the ears of one of my particularly needy pitbulls, I pondered the thought further.
Perhaps there is some truth to being non-committal. I don’t have an issue with faithfulness, but committing to one specific label feels suffocating to me. I’m not comfortable being exclusively defined as a lesbian or a Democrat even though I’ve only dated women and only voted Democrat for years. Truth be told, I don’t particularly like the bisexual label either because it still feels very binary to me, so I identify simply as “queer” to take the pressure off.
Being an independent voter is a safe space in this political climate. Engaging in political debate as an independent allows others to keep an open mind more so than as Republican or Democrat. I’ve had staunch Republicans come around to the idea of universal healthcare or the Black Lives Matter movement after speaking with me because they couldn’t simply shut me out for being a Democrat — and on more than one occasion! These days, to me, everyone seems to assume that anyone who labels themselves as supportive of one political party automatically adopts every principle and ideal of that party. Identifying as independent gives me the freedom to avoid these constraints, which is so similar to my line of thinking on intimate relationships. I’d rather avoid limiting who I engage in intimate relationships with.
But, I wonder, does that freedom come at a cost? Am I as distrusted by liberals for not committing to the Democratic party as I am distrusted by lovers for not committing to a specific sexuality? And does this mean I really do have commitment issues or does it just make me a free spirit, wandering the world on my iPhone, searching for a lover who won’t judge me or the perfect politician? I pose this question to my pack of furry companions, but all I get in response this time is a toxic cloud of flatulence.
Perhaps that response from my dog was a bad sign, but I refused to take it as such. Freedom of choice is a beautiful thing and frankly, if it makes me untrustworthy, that’s a price I’m willing to pay, because assuming I am untrustworthy is their loss. I am as honest and loyal as they come.
As I choked my way out of the cloud and off to bed, I felt reassured in my non-commitment. I can vote Democrat, date women, have 50 dogs while enjoying my favorite wine, and perhaps die alone of toxic canine flatulence but be proudly label-free while doing that, and that’s perfectly okay! Binary choices never made sense to me. Why should I force myself into a box? Why should I allow myself to only vote for a certain party? Why should I date just men or just women? Why should I restrict myself when the whole world is out there, waiting to be explored?
