It would be easy to conclude that there
is simply no bisexual literary heritage,
a worrying opinion that may well prevail
now that Queer is most definitely here.
I have to confess to being a big fan of
Queer. Fundamentally, the term means anything
that opposes or challenges the heteronorm,
and as a result is a far more inclusive
term than its predecessors. It incorporates
all of the LGBT community, and even allows
heterosexuals to self define as Queer. In
academic institutions it has grown from
and eventually superseded Gay and Lesbian
studies (what some have called the Queering
of Gay and Lesbian studies) and become the
trendy, post-modern buzzword. Much of its
power lies in the way that the word itself
has been misappropriated once already as
a derogatory term against homosexuals, and
then re-appropriated, re-branded and re-launched
as a more powerful banner under which to
ally. In this process of evolution it has
become imbued with an organic versatility
that reflects the plethora and fluidity
of individual sexualities. Transient and
ever-expanding, it is difficult to pin down.
At the bookstore I work
in I recently put together a display called
'The New Queer Lit' which included, among
others, work by Abha Dhawesar, JT Leroy,
Patricia Duncker, Dennis Cooper and Shani
Mootoo. The idea was to include new, post-colonial
or innovative work that on some level avoided
easy categorisation, challenged the norm
and addressed Queer themes, thereby reflecting
the way literature and critical theory was
going. Mootoo's Cereus Blooms at Night
is a particularly good example of new queer
writing. Taking place in a non-Western setting,
the novel covers incest, transvestism and
the constructionism of gender whilst avoiding
the labels or theorisation that might otherwise
kill the humanity of the story. As a result,
Mootoo avoids loading and homogenising her
characters or narrative with preconceived
identities or expectations, and what shines
through instead is the beauty, pain, longing
and desire that is subtly unique to every
individual.
In many ways, then,
Queer might be seen as the answer to our
prayers. It reflects the views of many bisexuals
who would explain their orientation as the
refusal to shackle partner choice to biological
sex; or, as the recognition that biological
sex is superfluous to partner choice. Queer
takes this even further. It challenges and
highlights the flaws of all labels, including
those related to biological sex (i.e. Man
and Woman) which, up to now, have been the
cornerstone upon which theories of sexuality
have been built. And of course, the term
Bisexual is also called in to question,
implying as it does two sexes when we are
now beginning to understand that biological
sex is as unstable as sexuality and gender.
Despite my rather love
struck embrace of Queer I can't help feeling
that it would be a huge tragedy if Bisexual
as a valid literary and cultural term became
redundant before it has even been fully
accepted and explored. In 1977, Charlotte
Woolf recognised that 'the gender identity
of bisexual people...can be strengthened
through the rather isolated position in
which they find themselves with both hetero-
and homosexuals.' As we know from literary
theory, these peripheral identities can
be sites of huge discursive potential, thriving
on the energy created by the paradox at
their core. With no established dogma to
keep them in place, sites of conflict must
by necessity keep challenging, questioning
and redefining; stripping away outmoded
ideas, developing existing ones, exploring
and embracing new ones. Most importantly,
the unique positioning of those without
a fixed position allows such individuals
to comment on, analyse and experience a
myriad of roles and identities from within,
but also from outside. From a literary point
of view this generates depth and originality
- free from the restrictions of clear genre
lines or traditions, we are constantly compelled
to find new ways to represent our similarly
shifting, lived experiences.
It can therefore be
argued that, as bisexuals, we occupy an
incredibly powerful socio-literary space.
Additionally, it can be seen how a Bisexual
(non) position can be differentiated from
a Queer one, whose strength lies in its
inclusivity. Although both terms benefit
from a positive instability, Bisexual has
what I now believe is the advantage rather
than the hindrance of being a marginal identity.
Such a position contains huge literary potential
and, despite a lack of acknowledgement,
there is a wealth of bisexual themed
literature out there to prove it. Authors
writing from this unique vantage point have
produced edgy, insightful and original work
that not only exploits a lack of boundaries
and rules, but reflects the day to day experiences
of life in this liminal position.
|
 |
With
this in mind I am now collating a 'Best
of Bi' display to celebrate this body of
work and highlight its depth, breadth and
diversity. This has resulted in a collection
of often contrasting pieces, ranging from
the overtly and explicitly Bisexual, to
those with a more latent, subconscious relationship
to bisexuality. For example, the repressed,
three way, bi-eroticism of D.H. Lawrence's
The Fox contrasts sharply with the
frank depictions and exploration of sex
and the erotic in Anais Nin's The Delta
of Venus. While Lawrence's ultimately
tragic piece suggests the dangers of sexual
repression, Nin explores and celebrates
the variations and possibilities of female
sexuality. Candid and explicit, she unapologetically
presents the potential fulfilment of female
bisexuality.
Some of the more contemporary
work deals with the every day experiences
and challenges of modern bisexual life,
such as Felice Picano's literary memoir
Ambidextrous - The Secret Life of Children,
and David Leddick's very funny My Worst
Date in which the object of the narrator's
affection is also dating his mother (not
common, but it could happen...). In addition
I have included Mary Gaitskill's Because
They Wanted To and Jeanette Winterson's
Written on the Body, both of which
discuss the nature of desire and intimacy.
Despite being a well known lesbian author,
Winterson nevertheless brilliantly challenges
notions of gender and sexuality here and
throughout her work. In Written on the
Body, the gender-free narrator shows
us that the human capacity for love, desire
and disaster remain free from sex and gender.
Finally, no collection of bi literature
would be complete without Fritz Klein, widely
accepted to be the modern expert on bisexual
theory. For this reason I have included
both his fiction Life, Sex and the Pursuit
of Happiness, and groundbreaking study
The Bisexual Option which presents
the Klein Sexual Orientation Grid.
Bisexual, then, is a
paradoxical term that is a label,
and yet by its instability, transience and
enforced invisibility does not conform to
the usual rules and constraints of labels.
It thus avoids the dead ends, stereotypes
and pitfalls of clearly delineated social
and literary identities, spaces and roles.
Its key strength lies in this positive instability,
forcing it to constantly adapt, shift, question
and evolve. It has the power to unite those
who identify as bisexual, allows us to celebrate
this identity without becoming subsumed
by it, and it demands continuous reassessment.
As awareness of bisexual
lives and cultural production increases
we face a series of growing and somewhat
paradoxical challenges. For, as the success
of bi-activism grows and bisexual identities
become more mainstream and integrated, we
risk losing the advantages generated from
the liminal. Will this result in our exploitation
as yet another, viable, commercial market?
And how do we avoid that triumph of capitalism
- identity as commodity - being thrust upon
us? Similarly, do we throw our lot in with
the Queer theorists and writers for whom
the question of over-assimilation is also
a current hot topic? In short, would over-assimilation
cancel out this unique and wonderful space?
I believe that these
are questions that need to be addressed
if we are to retain the freedom that is
at the heart of bisexual identities. In
the fight for growing awareness and acceptance,
and in the struggle against casual and deep
rooted bi-phobia, we must be careful not
to concede our edge. For, the moment the
vampire loses its bite it becomes impotent
- just a set of purchasable, slightly tacky
fashion accessories and bad make-up that
quickly becomes pastiche. Similarly, we
must formulate our own strategies against
over-assimilation and acculturation and
to do that we must keep thinking, debating
and evolving. Rather than allow others to
force us in to the shackles of the stereotype,
we must battle for our own souls.
|
