A Place To Draw Blood Laughing

Maymay has written his side of this particular thought process. Of course he is brilliant and wonderful and cute, and makes equally good points. This is highly recommended reading.

All right. We’re going to take a break from the four words to examine this idea of bisexuality versus pansexuality a little more intently. May and I have just had a very long discussion, and you all know how we like to break apart words and ideas in this space.

I wrote in my previous post that I had made a distinction between bisexuality and pansexuality. In doing so, I was reacting to a growing unease with the implications of the word “bisexual” as well as the increasing evidence that I am attracted to trans and androgynous people, people who readily mix my ideas of men and women both physically and idealistically.

We did not exactly have a discussion. We had what amounted to a fight. Here is our geekiness revealed; we fight about words. In reflection, this doesn’t actually seem so odd, or so geeky. Lots of people fight about words.

In Maymay’s ideal world, every word we use has a precise, specific, singular definition. I do not live in this world. Almost every discussion we have in this relationship in some way breaks down to a contention over the definition or usage of words. Our personalities conflict, similar to our reading tastes. May reads non-fiction, I read fiction. May’s bookshelf is full of technical manuals. Mine is full of 19th century adventure novels.

Briefly and approximately: the prefix “hetero-” means “different.” The prefix “homo-” means “the same.” the prefix “bi-” means “two.” The prefix “pan-” means “all.”

May is bipolar. He drew a comparison between being bipolar and being bisexual. Being bipolar does not mean he is always either depressed or manic. It means he exists on a sliding scale between those two states. Bisexuality, therefore, would be defined as being sexually attracted to people who fall within a range along the sliding scale of gender fluidity.

This is commonly how the word is understood in kink and alternative sexuality communities. It’s how I used the word for years. It works for this idea; in fact, it’s how most of us assume the word is used. We’ve culturally subtexted it to indicate either a sliding scale or a disregard for gender or sex. It works to claim bisexual as an identity in alternative cultures; chances are you’re not so different from me.

Used in this way, “bisexuality” obfuscates “pansexuality” by essentially making the two synonyms. “Pansexual” then becomes confusing: “Wasn’t that what I said the first time around?” we wonder aloud.

But then, I start looking at the definitions that pop up when I go searching for “bisexual.” I start thinking about how my vanilla mother interprets the word when I use it. I think about the fuckuppery that the scene goes through by unconsciously accepting rigid gender binaries.

So when I say the word “bisexual” do the people who hear me think about my tastes as two sides of a coin or as a fluid range? And if they do think of my tastes as two sides of a coin, then clearly I’ve started the conversation at the wrong entry point. So is it better to start a conversation with a word and implication I don’t like, or with a word that’s unfamiliar and relatively undefined?

Clearly, the word “pansexual” (along with words created in similar contexts such as “omnisexual”) is a neologism. In relation to the commonly known “bisexual” it has relatively little meaning or cultural clout. What does that mean? I will not claim that neologisms are valueless through their very unfamiliarity. Neologisms seem an appropriate way of promoting or defining a relatively unfamiliar idea.

And the idea of gender fluidity? For the culture we live in today, I’d say that gets a prime place on the list of unfamiliar, scary ideas.

“Pansexual” is also a political idea with roots in different issues than “bisexual.” It links to a different culture. It has different implications. It resonates with people of different interests and thought processes. And from my experience, I like those people. And I like bisexual people too.

I also recognize that people commonly try to tout pansexuality as “better” than bisexuality. Similarly, people tout polyamoury as “better” than monogamy. Just as a personal favor to me, please don’t do that.

The crux of the matter is why we use the words we do. Why do certain words define our identities; what do we claim, and how do we think? What do the words we chose say about our identity politics? Some women chose the word lesbian, while others prefer dyke. Some men claim the word fag, others choose to describe themselves as queer. May fights for words to be used in their exact sense. I do not. I like that words have ambiguities and cultural connotations. I like that labels are an entry point for learning.

May argues that if we want to get people thinking about the fluidity of gender, the best method lies in talking about gender as a scale. I argued that the best method would be to use different words, understanding that my sexuality relates to the genders and sexes I find attractive. In my experience, words create awareness.

We ended our spat about words with a deal. He’ll promote gender fluidity through conversations about scales, and I’ll promote gender fluidity through the use of different vocabulary. And in the end, we’ll probably meet in the middle.