Bisexual Black Belts
A Fashion-Forward Proposal for Purity Politics
I don’t know about you, but the “gold star” label bothers me. Gold-star gays, gold-star lesbians: monosexuals declaring proudly that they have never ever not once come in contact with the wrong set of genitals. They feel very strongly about this. There's shaming involved. I'm not a fan of shaming.
I’ve heard that the term once had a more positive use. It was proudly worn by someone who, by self-confidence, self-assuredness, and circumstance found themselves never having to pretend to be someone they weren’t. They never gritted their teeth and smiled through a straight-presenting prom picture. They never dated someone for appearances, or invented a significant other of a socially-acceptable gender. They ran the gauntlet of homophobia and emerged intact and true to themselves.
The use I’ve seen lately, though, has taken the meaning into a nastier place. Late-bloomers and anyone stumbling into their identity through genital misadventures need not apply. You may already be contaminated. I’ve even heard tales of a Platinum tier, for gay men delivered by Caesarean section, lifted clear of any accidental vaginal contact that may forever taint their legitimacy. What was once a mark of pride is now twisted into a virtue-signal for the purposes of cliquishness and exclusion. Not cool.
I’m very fond of saying that the bi+ identity is an umbrella, as we encompass everyone in that wide violet space between the extremes of strict monosexuality. Our purity is forever ruined, I suppose, even if we’ve never accidentally brushed up against a thing or the other thing or those things or even the you-know-whats. Our attractions have doomed us. The voices of the purity police sound to me a lot like those that dismiss bi+ men as simply gay-in-denial, and bi+ women merely “curious,” and all bisexual people as naturally transphobic because Bi Means Two. It’s discouraging. And when our spirits are down and doubts are high, I think there’s only one real avenue out: fashion accessorizing.
Stay with me, here.
I’ve already bemoaned that it’s hard to identify as Out in a world that assumes and perceives us as probably-straight-or-gay. We’re so good at hiding in plain sight that we are even invisible to one another. It takes a lot of individual mental and emotional energy to navigate this negativity, so I offer this humble proposal to unify us: we take a cue from martial arts and, as a population, adopt colorful belts as our go-to marker. The advantages are of course, obvious:
- Practical: for keeping one’s pants up and, in post-pandemic times, a reminder that sweats and trackies are not suitable outside the home.
- Fashionable: many colors to choose from, and if worn as a sash, can provide a convenient backing for Pride pins and other bi+ flair.
- Sociable: when encountering other bi+ folks in the wild, simply tie the loose ends of your belts together to form a protective chain to lead to the nearest coffeeshop/bookstore, or configure in a raft formation to escape from nationalist protesters and uncomfortable family gatherings.
I would also have our community adopt a nod or bowing as a Covid-friendly sign of greeting, as a demonstration of our non-threatening nature, and as an indicator to the nearest coffeeshop/bookstore. Respectful, unintrusive, and a clear sign of allyship in a world that can’t decide which side of the fence we’re supposed to be standing on.
Like the progression of belts in martial arts, I recommend that we establish various skill tiers for advancement. For example:
Beginner
- Remembered to wear proper pants and planned to get out of the house
- Spent under $100 on Pride pins and other bi+ flair from favorite online crafters
- Woke up feeling kinda non-self-judgmental, which is nice
Intermediate
- Actually left the house, in pants
- Wore Pride pins and other bi+ flair to coffeeshop/bookstore and didn’t exactly shove it in people’s faces but also didn’t take it off in a panic
- Made and held eye contact with other humans
- Remembered to smile after a few moments of awkward eye contact, and then nodded and bowed and waved, but you know, naturally and not weird, mostly
Advanced
- Ordered drink/asked for help from adorable barista/book clerk while remembering one’s own name, and without stammering too much
- Picking out a book on knotwork and looking thoughtful and cool and together while doing so
- Feeling mildly superior that you may not be a gold-star or platinum anything, but your belt is earning serious fashion cred
Ninja
- Successfully gather and lead a raft of fellow bi+ folks away from a nationalist family picnic at the park, while remembering everyone’s preferred pronouns and having a really good hair day
The last level will be awarded in a special ceremony emceed by Robyn Ochs herself. I haven’t actually asked, but she seems like she’d be down for it.
Now is our moment. While the monosexuals are busy classifying one another’s legitimacy and dedication, we have time to organize ourselves and pick out a design — I will never say “no” to sequins, if they’re tasteful. We get a group order in for flair, and meet up for a coffee. I’ll be the one awkwardly bowing, over by Knotwork Monthly.
I don't actually believe an accessory is going to unite us, but I do think there's strength in visibility and in finding our community. I pity the self-appointed enforcers of the modern gold-star movements, because I feel it's a yearning for validation, fueled by fear. What if a gold-star member accidentally touched the thing and discovered that they liked it? What if that moment threw them into doubt about what they were certain was true: that their fixed identity wasn't so secure after all? I think that's the basis for a lot of biphobia. We don't exclude and isolate, but include and embrace. Our unity is not formed through identical experiences and never have I ever boundaries, but by recognizing the breadth and variety of everyone else here under the big bi+ umbrella. That openness can feel frightening, as we defy classification and transgress the rules. We will touch all the things and the other things besides. We will grant ourselves the grace to define and refine our identities through experiences, and boost one another up instead of boxing each other off.
We may not earn any stars, but damn will we look good in our sequins.
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