One of the things about being Jewish (oh, if you didn’t know, I’m Jewish) is that no one actually knows what, exactly, “Jewish people” are. I don’t mean that in the sense of some antisemitic conspiracy about how we’re all secret lizard people; I mean more that the boundaries of Jewishness and Judaism are porous, that the question of who belongs, of what binds us together, often feels extremely fraught. Judaism is a religion, yes, but you don’t have to practice it to be considered Jewish, and there are genetic markers associated with Jewish ethnicities, but plenty of Jews (like my brother and mom) do not have them, and plenty of people who do aren’t really what I’d consider Jewish (sorry not sorry to everyone who decided they were Jewish after they got back their 23andMe).
The best answer I have ever heard is that Jews are a tribe or, perhaps, a people: we’ve got an associated religion and ethnicities and culture and heritage, and you can pick and choose which parts you partake in (more or less). If you’re born Jewish you’re Jewish forever, but you can also opt in at any point (though you’ll have to go through a rigorous conversion process). What binds us to our Jewishness is our relationship to other Jews — even if that relationship is the decision to forsake them. It’s complicated to explain, because while there is a religious aspect, Judaism is far more than a religion — truly the best analog I can come up with is Indigenous tribes, which have associated religious practices and ethnic markers but are significantly more than just those things (and, as with Jews, you can join Indigenous tribes even if you weren’t born into them, as evidenced by the complicated story of the 5 “Civilized” Tribes Freedmen).
Anyway. Jews are a people. Jews are my people: I was raised practicing Judaism (and continue to practice in my own way), I have Ashkenazi heritage (two of my grandparents survived the Holocaust), and Jewishness is a culture that I partake in and, to a point, feel defined by. So this is my entry point for what “a people” is. And it’s the background that forms my opinion on whether bisexuals (or even LGBTQ folks) can be considered “a people.”
I hope you can forgive me because friends? My answer is, uh, no.
This feels more fraught than it should, I think. There’s this weird idea people have that an identity or trait has to be bound up in “community” and “heritage” and “history” in order to have value, that there has to be some grand continuity to it all for it to have worth and meaning. It feels connected to this drive to prove that queer people have always been around forever — which, while true, is also kind of a so what?, you know? So what if I’m the first ever bisexual to exist? The lack of past precedent does not negate my present identity.
But my argument here is that rather than a people, bisexuals are a type of person. We don’t have a culture, we don’t have a heritage (I mean yes I love 1990s bi activism and Anything That Moves, but that doesn’t quite count), perhaps most importantly — arguments about the genetic components of queerness aside — there’s nothing really hereditary about bisexuality. I am Jewish because my parents were Jewish and they raised me Jewish. I am bi because I am bi. It’s a self-contained experience, purely about me and my attractions. To be bisexual does not require me to be in community with anyone else.
(At the risk of really getting everyone mad at me: as both a bi woman and a 3G Holocaust survivor, I always feel kind of uncomfortable with the periodic attempts to connect modern queer people — and especially modern American queer people — to the queer people who were imprisoned and murdered by the Nazis. I know what it is to be connected to the Holocaust both through my literal family and my ethnic identity, and it simply does not bear any resemblance to the feelings I have, as a queer person, about queer people being imprisoned and slaughtered as well. That’s not to say I see no connection — as an adolescent I did write a play about a 3G survivor lesbian that was clearly drawing parallels between queer and Jewish experience! — but it is simply not the same. That said, I also feel weird when Jews with no direct connection to the Holocaust try to claim it as a personal trauma, so maybe I am just ~gatekeeping the Holocaust~.)
But personally? Peeps I think it’s fine for bisexuals to be a type of person rather than a people. We don’t need to be a culture or a heritage to be oppressed; more importantly, we don’t need to be a “community” to form community, if you get what I’m saying. Disabled people and fat people are also examples of groups that are types of people rather than A People, and those groups are still able to come together and support each other and fight the good fight. We don’t need to have a shared culture for our struggle to deserve recognition. We don’t need to be a people to deserve basic human rights.
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Are we a type of person, or a people?
Even in comparison to other LGBT groups, I think bisexuals probably have the weakest claim to having a real culture. There's just not a lot of definitive shared experiences I think since bisexuality can look so different for different people. The memes online about bisexual culture can be funny to participate in, but it's obvious that things like cuffing your jeans or sitting weirdly in chairs has nothing to do with being bisexual.
I think this distinction between bisexuals being a people or type of person is a good point to make not just for the sake of gatekeeping the concept of a people or culture, but also to highlight that it can be an isolating experience. Like maybe this could partially explain why mental health issues affect bisexuals/the LGBT community in general more than other minority groups that face the same or worse level of discrimination in society. You can easily be in a situation where there's no other queer people in your family or friend group. So there's no one around you to relate to in that regard, and the people around you may or may not be supportive. With ethnocentric communities for example, at least you're likely to have family and other people close to you that share the same experiences and offer support which can lessen the mental load.