In light of Bisexual Awareness week — AKA the week I officially exist — I thought I’d trauma dump on you about how my parents don’t seem to think my bi-ness exists.
Actually, that’s not fair. They definitely know that I’m bisexual; it’s more that they like to ignore what that actually means.
While disagreeing with my brown parents isn’t exactly a new concept, I’m starting to worry how it’s impacting my own dating experiences — or lack thereof — because lately, I’ve been ignoring my bi-ness too.
Being a brown bi woman
Dating as a bisexual person with parents in denial is like trying to solve a Rubik’s Cube blindfolded while riding a unicycle. On fire. In a cyclone. It’s a special kind of chaos that leaves you questioning everything from your identity to your sanity.
Let me paint you a picture: I’m a Malaysian-Indian woman, which means dating is already an uphill battle.
I’ve had to fend off people wanting to live out their Slumdog Millionaire fantasies (yes, someone actually asked me to do that, and no, I didn’t oblige), and navigate through a list of people who think salt is a spice. It’s scary out there for a brown woman. And yes I’m covering up other more serious fears with humour.
And then, just to spice things up (pun intended), we add this whole bisexual identity crisis on top.
Coming out to my family was… well, let’s just say it wasn’t the wholesome Queer Eye moment I’d hoped for.
I started with a close family member who hit me with the classic, “But you’re not actually — you’ve never been with a girl.” My bad, I hadn’t realised I needed to present a sexual resume to validate my identity, that’s on me.
After that stellar start, I spread the news to more supportive cousins and friends, building my little fortress of acceptance.
But when it came to my parents? Let’s just say I chickened out and went for the passive-aggressive route.
I casually mentioned my queerness in an article I knew they’d read. Because nothing says ‘I’m bisexual’ like anxiously avoiding any form of conflict whatsoever.
I’m not alone in this. New research from Hinge found that just 1 in 5 of bisexual daters reported being completely ‘out’ to all of their family and friends, compared to 64 per cent of gay daters, 55 per cent of lesbian daters, and 43 per cent of queer daters. We hate confrontation so much we can’t even pick one gender to date (jokes, please don’t at me).
Dating is fucked
Now, dating? That’s a whole other can of worms. I find myself gravitating towards men more often than not.
It’s not that I don’t want to date women. It’s just that the more I start to date for the sake of finding a relationship, the more anxiety I get over the thought of bringing a girlfriend home.
I don’t want to make it seem like my parents are super conservative and they aren’t liberal people. For the most part they are! They let me become a journalist, for God’s sake.
But, I know that if I ever said to them, “I’m marrying a girl”, they just wouldn’t know what to do with that. So I try to avoid that conflict, in any way possible.
As someone who believes in a higher power, I’d be lying if I didn’t say I’ve found myself praying for my soulmate to be a man. That sounds so fucked, writing that down. And yet, it’s the truth.
It’s not that I can’t see myself ending up with a man, but it’s more that I now can’t tell if it’s something I truly want or if it’s just the safer option. No awkward conversations, no potential family rifts. But then I feel guilty for even thinking that way.
It’s a never-ending cycle of self-doubt and emotional whiplash.
This constant self-censorship leaves me questioning my own identity. Am I really bisexual if I’m not actively dating women? Do I deserve to claim this label if I’m too scared to fully embrace it?
It’s like I’m stuck in this weird limbo, not straight enough for my parents but not queer enough for… well, myself.
It gets better….right?
Moe Ari Brown, Hinge’s love and connection expert, offers some insight into why this disconnect between parents exists.
“Gen X and Baby Boomers grew up during eras where queer identities were not talked about openly, and if they were, the commentary was usually negative. This often led to general misconceptions about bisexuality and bi-erasure for their generation,” they told PEDESTRIAN.TV.
“This does not mean Gen X and Baby Boomers can’t learn how to embrace bisexual family members. They can unlearn the misconceptions and stereotypes that were often circulated about bisexuality during their formative years and expand their worldviews.”
So maybe there’s a chance my parents will come around… eventually. Maybe by the time I’m ready for retirement?
Brown — who is a Black, transgender and bisexual — also touched on the complexity of holding multiple marginalised identities.
“Take someone with my identities, for example,” they said.
“A person who is both Black, transgender, and bisexual could feel comfortable with others knowing they are Black because this identity is an involuntary disclosure and is visible to someone at first meeting.
“When that person desires to disclose other aspects of their identity like transgender and bisexual, they could question when it’s appropriate to do so given the tense social and political climate around these identities.”
As a Malaysian-Indian woman, my ethnicity is visible and undeniable. I’ve learned to be proud of my culture, because I’ve been forced into situations where that is all I am perceived as. While I absolutely take pride in my heritage, it can be exhausting to constantly fight for my place as a brown woman in this world.
Sometimes, it feels easier to just ignore parts of my identity — like my bisexuality — especially when I’m already navigating so many other battles.
It’s a bit shameful to admit, but honestly, when the world is challenging enough just because of my skin colour and my family is my respite, I don’t always have the energy to assert every single part of who I am.
No seriously, apparently it does get better
Okay, enough of the sob story. Thankfully, Brown hit me with some hard truths. “Authenticity is essential for all people when it comes to dating,” they said. “Without authenticity, we’d just be a version of ourselves that we think someone else wants us to be, not who we desire to be.”
But how do you be authentic when you’re still figuring out who you are? When being your true self might mean disappointing your family who left their lives in a different country to make yours better?
It’s easier to just disassociate from the dating scene altogether. And when I do venture out, I often end up disassociating from my true self.
“Remind yourself: ‘I have nothing to prove’”, Brown advised. “No one else can tell you who you’re attracted to. You know who you are. When you’re navigating challenging moments, remind yourself that you don’t have to prove who you are or who you like to anyone.”
It’s definitely easier said than done, but if we aren’t hoping for better, then what are we all doing here.
“Right here, right now, my vision for queer daters is a world where queer people find belonging in any space they desire to inhabit, where there are no limits to the freedom we might experience in this lifetime, and where there is no echo of a world where queer love was anything less than love,” Brown continued. (I’m not crying, you are.)
I’m not sure when I’ll get to a stage where my family is fully accepting of my bisexuality, but I hope that one day I’ll be confident enough to accept myself, no matter their thoughts.
This whole thing is messy, it’s complicated, and sometimes it feels downright impossible. But it’s my journey, and I’m learning that embracing my truth — whatever that may look like — is worth the struggle.
Even if it means occasionally having to explain that, no, I don’t want to recreate Slumdog Millionaire on our first date, thank you very much.
The post What It’s Like To Date As A Bisexual Person With Parents In Denial appeared first on PEDESTRIAN.TV .
