“Can I ask you a question?”
“Um, sure.” I just met you half an hour ago. What could you possibly have to say to me?
“Are you a lesbian?”
“No. I’m queer.”
“There’s absolutely nothing wrong with that.” No shit. Thanks for your approval/tolerance/reassurance!
Then I got a text from someone else in the room. The person I was on a date with. It was his friend that had asked the question. “If you’re queer than why are you here with me?” *sigh*
“I like everyone. I’m queer as in ‘not straight,’ not queer as in ‘only gay.’”
“So, shouldn’t you just say bi?” Here we go again.
“No, bi implies a gender binary: male and female. I like everyone: male, female, trans, genderqueer, whatever.”
I’m sick of having to explain myself to people all the time. I know it’s not their fault that they don’t know or understand, and I don’t expect them to, but I wish that for just one day, I didn’t have to go through life defining my orientation for people. Defining my identity. Breaking down barriers. Expanding minds. It’s important, and someone has to do it. Most days I’m happy, and even proud, to do it. But some days I wish it didn’t have to be me.
I'm Britni, a snarky bitch and generally awesome person. I write about sex, love, and bullshit. If sex-positivity, discussions about BDSM and kink, queer issues, and topics that are completely inappropriate by society's standards make you uncomfortable, then this blog is not for you.
Good Vibes 
6 Comments
You and me both honey, you and me both.
I think there is a place in the education system for a staged-as-appropriate-by-age of some of the content of books such as The Ethical Slut, and perhaps some volumes that explain the intricacies of the whole straight/gay/bi/pansexual/etc. and the various kinks-that-really-aren’t.
Be a cold day in hell before I actually expect it to happen though.
This, exactly this. It becomes frustrating, indeed. You know, my fourteen year old daughter has been explaining it to her friends whenever she can? She says its just not fair that a whole bunch of people are left out, her mom included.
I don’t think a place exists where we don’t have to define our identities.
My boyfriend identifies as pansexual, but usually just says “bi” because it’s easier to explain to other people.
Also, there’s a great (ie, awful) moment on one season of “The Millionaire Matchmaker” when Patti’s head just about explodes after a woman during one of her “calls” for women for her clients to date described herself as “pan”. You could literaly see the smoke coming out of Patti’s ears.
It’s a gigantic pain-in-the ass trying to save, enlighten, and/or reform the world. There’s a reason why heroes (Jesus, Mohammed, et. al.)* throw their hands up to the sky and cry, “Why me?”
Keep up the good fight. As you can see from the other comments, you’re not alone.
*Forget the religious aspect, just go with the “story” part, okay? Okay.