Bisexuality: I Am Not A Postscript
Before I go any further in this blog post, I’m going to state the utmost respect and support I have for the Terrence Higgins Trust. They are a force of good in raising awareness for something that is still, for a large number of people, seen as a taboo subject which ‘must not be spoken of at all costs’. On World AIDS Day, I and several other members of the Cardiff University LGBT+ Association stood outside in below-zero temperatures, handing out condoms and selling cakes to raise money and awareness for the charity. I came very close to losing some very important appendages to frost bite, but it was most definitely worth it to support such a worthwhile cause.
However, this week I happened upon this sexual health awareness leaflet, distributed by the Trust, which was being displayed on the LGBT+ Association’s stall at Refreshers Fair. First of all, let’s see if you can work out why this presentation of useful information has given me, as my dear friend angelkitty101 would call it, ‘The Rage’.
I think that leaflets like this are absolutely vital in distributing important information to those who might otherwise not know how to find it. Let’s face it, most lessons I have ever received about sexual health tend to focus on there being a cock inserted somewhere or other. The general message, which is (although most of the time unspokenly) extended to male gay sex, is put something on the end of it.
Which doesn’t really help those of us who are engaging in, or are indeed likely to engage in, sex which doesn’t really involve a cock, being inserted or otherwise.
However, what has sent me climbing the walls about this particular leaflet is the addition of ‘bisexual’ in tiny font beneath the gigantic ‘LESBIAN’ proclamation. It is almost as if the publishers of the leaflet were suddenly reminded, at the very last moment before going into production, that, hey, those gals who like both are probably having sex with women as well. That a whole group, which is just as much a part of the LGBT world and, therefore, just as much in need of information like this as anyone else, has been relegated to a postscript is something that just grated across my brain.
Of course, the very fact that it is there in the first place is cause for some degree of celebration - acknowledgement is acknowledgement, no matter what size of font the publishers deem fit to use. However, that they have decided to place bisexual women below lesbians in both position and font size sends out a clear message: that we are less important. This is a dangerous assumption which should be avoided at all costs, especially when dealing with young bisexuals who have maybe never had sex with a woman before. Just because I, as a bisexual, may have sexual relations with men does not mean that I am less likely to have sex with a woman. Even if I were to have sex with only one woman for the rest of my life, information like this is still something that is going to be vital for my sexual safety.
The reason why placing the word 'bisexual' in such tiny font is most damaging, however, is because it may dissuade young bisexuals from picking up the leaflet in the first place. I am an avid hoarder of leaflets like this, even owning many sexual health leaflets aimed at gay and straight men (despite the fact that these will, obviously, never really be applicable to me personally) and yet even I was slightly non-plussed by this leaflet when I first saw it. As there is no real indication that it is about sexual health for women who have sex with women, I assumed first of all that it was a leaflet aimed squarely at lesbians for one reason or another, and was extremely close to brushing over it without a second glance. Luckily for me, however, my extensive, almost obsessive compulsive tendencies of reading everything I come to contact with (if someone has an Epipen that needs using, many hours sat in medical rooms and reading miscellaneous posters means I am the gal you want on your side!) meant that I eventually picked up that it was also aimed at bisexuals.
How many young female bisexuals, who would have gained an awful lot of important information from this leaflet, may have passed by that stall without realising that it was relevant to them? How many may then go on to engage in sex that is not as safe for them as it could be, simply because it was not made clear that the information they needed was aimed at them?
I know that my mother will probably read this blog entry (she is my stalker, after all) but I am in no way embarrassed about anything that I write in the next paragraph because I know she won't have a problem at all - if anything, she will agree with the point that I'm making. I knew how to have safe, straight sex when I was about thirteen; I learned how to put a condom on an (albeit fake) cock when I was about fifteen. Internet scourings during the years when I was first discovering my own identity as a sexual being once again highlighted the importance of safe sex in scenarios where the insertion of a cock was involved. And, as you can probably all guess where I got a lot of that information from, I came away with the absolute belief that sex between two women was safe, safe, safe and no precautions needed to be taken. How would I know any different? Even shows such as Queer as Folk, which have become stalwarts in my own queer awakening, whilst hammering home the importance of condoms and safe sex for gay men, never once hastened to add the precautions or practices needed to engage in safe F/F sex.
Protecting and encouraging me to have safe sex as a young, female bisexual is just as important as anything else. Acting as though it is perhaps of less importance because I am 'less likely' to have sex with another woman is like not giving out sexual health awareness classes to geeks because they are 'less likely' to have sex in general. It's a presumption based on a pre-existing idea which no one bothers to challenge. It's also downright ludicrous.
My sexual health and safety should not be an afterthought.
It's my life. And I demand to be treated as more than a postscript.
However, this week I happened upon this sexual health awareness leaflet, distributed by the Trust, which was being displayed on the LGBT+ Association’s stall at Refreshers Fair. First of all, let’s see if you can work out why this presentation of useful information has given me, as my dear friend angelkitty101 would call it, ‘The Rage’.
I think that leaflets like this are absolutely vital in distributing important information to those who might otherwise not know how to find it. Let’s face it, most lessons I have ever received about sexual health tend to focus on there being a cock inserted somewhere or other. The general message, which is (although most of the time unspokenly) extended to male gay sex, is put something on the end of it.
Which doesn’t really help those of us who are engaging in, or are indeed likely to engage in, sex which doesn’t really involve a cock, being inserted or otherwise.
However, what has sent me climbing the walls about this particular leaflet is the addition of ‘bisexual’ in tiny font beneath the gigantic ‘LESBIAN’ proclamation. It is almost as if the publishers of the leaflet were suddenly reminded, at the very last moment before going into production, that, hey, those gals who like both are probably having sex with women as well. That a whole group, which is just as much a part of the LGBT world and, therefore, just as much in need of information like this as anyone else, has been relegated to a postscript is something that just grated across my brain.
Of course, the very fact that it is there in the first place is cause for some degree of celebration - acknowledgement is acknowledgement, no matter what size of font the publishers deem fit to use. However, that they have decided to place bisexual women below lesbians in both position and font size sends out a clear message: that we are less important. This is a dangerous assumption which should be avoided at all costs, especially when dealing with young bisexuals who have maybe never had sex with a woman before. Just because I, as a bisexual, may have sexual relations with men does not mean that I am less likely to have sex with a woman. Even if I were to have sex with only one woman for the rest of my life, information like this is still something that is going to be vital for my sexual safety.
The reason why placing the word 'bisexual' in such tiny font is most damaging, however, is because it may dissuade young bisexuals from picking up the leaflet in the first place. I am an avid hoarder of leaflets like this, even owning many sexual health leaflets aimed at gay and straight men (despite the fact that these will, obviously, never really be applicable to me personally) and yet even I was slightly non-plussed by this leaflet when I first saw it. As there is no real indication that it is about sexual health for women who have sex with women, I assumed first of all that it was a leaflet aimed squarely at lesbians for one reason or another, and was extremely close to brushing over it without a second glance. Luckily for me, however, my extensive, almost obsessive compulsive tendencies of reading everything I come to contact with (if someone has an Epipen that needs using, many hours sat in medical rooms and reading miscellaneous posters means I am the gal you want on your side!) meant that I eventually picked up that it was also aimed at bisexuals.
How many young female bisexuals, who would have gained an awful lot of important information from this leaflet, may have passed by that stall without realising that it was relevant to them? How many may then go on to engage in sex that is not as safe for them as it could be, simply because it was not made clear that the information they needed was aimed at them?
I know that my mother will probably read this blog entry (she is my stalker, after all) but I am in no way embarrassed about anything that I write in the next paragraph because I know she won't have a problem at all - if anything, she will agree with the point that I'm making. I knew how to have safe, straight sex when I was about thirteen; I learned how to put a condom on an (albeit fake) cock when I was about fifteen. Internet scourings during the years when I was first discovering my own identity as a sexual being once again highlighted the importance of safe sex in scenarios where the insertion of a cock was involved. And, as you can probably all guess where I got a lot of that information from, I came away with the absolute belief that sex between two women was safe, safe, safe and no precautions needed to be taken. How would I know any different? Even shows such as Queer as Folk, which have become stalwarts in my own queer awakening, whilst hammering home the importance of condoms and safe sex for gay men, never once hastened to add the precautions or practices needed to engage in safe F/F sex.
Protecting and encouraging me to have safe sex as a young, female bisexual is just as important as anything else. Acting as though it is perhaps of less importance because I am 'less likely' to have sex with another woman is like not giving out sexual health awareness classes to geeks because they are 'less likely' to have sex in general. It's a presumption based on a pre-existing idea which no one bothers to challenge. It's also downright ludicrous.
My sexual health and safety should not be an afterthought.
It's my life. And I demand to be treated as more than a postscript.