A few years ago, when I was still struggling with some bisexual shame, I did a little thread about some of those kinds of bisexuals. The embarrassing ones, the ones who are basically straight but constantly trying to get attention for themselves. You know who I mean. The kind of bisexuals that so many of us desperately do not want to be mistaken for.
Someone — I forget who — replied to tell me that what I was displaying was internalized biphobia, that my need to publicly distance myself from “bad bisexuals” was nothing more than my own inability to process my fear that every bad thing society had told me about bisexuality was right. That gave me pause. I didn’t want it to be true, and yet I could not deny that it was. I was throwing other bisexuals — bisexuals who were, most of the time, just living their lives — under the bus, for no reason beyond simply wanting to gain the approval of other queers.
I was, as you’ve likely gathered from the title of this newsletter, being a pick me.
I first heard of the concept of a “pick me” in the context of women who are so desperate for male attention that they’ll throw the rest of their gender under the bus (see also, “I’m not like those other girls”); but there’s no question that the type exists in virtually every group. It’s easy to see how it happens: when widespread prejudice has convinced you that the group you’re a part of is actually bad, it’s easy to feel compelled to distinguish yourself from that group. And what better way to do that than by seeking the approval of an oppressor? What better way to do that by getting confirmation from the people who hate you that you, yourself, are uniquely free of taint?
The thing that makes bisexual pick mes interesting to me specifically — aside from the fact that I used to be one — is that the dynamic that this group is operating under is complex enough to frequently obscure what is going on. Bisexuals, as you doubtless know, are affected by two separate modes of oppression: we’re oppressed under a heterosexist system that privileges straightness over queerness, and we’re oppressed under a monosexist system that privileges people who are attracted to only one gender above those whose attractions are more diverse.
There are certainly bisexuals who seek heterosexual approval at the expense of their queer peers broadly: Bari Weiss immediately comes to mind here (though I feel I would be remiss if I did not mention that some of the loudest of the queer pick mes are gays and lesbians: Milo Yiannopoulos, Christian Walker, that lady who runs Gays Against Groomers). But the pick mes that I am most used to seeing — the kind that I used to be — are doing a much more complex dance. They openly reject straight approval in pursuit of the acceptance of lesbians and gays, seeking monosexuals approval at the expense of bisexuals — but only some monosexual approval. Only queer monosexual approval, specifically.
If you believe, as many people do, that society’s hierarchy of sexuality is a three tiered system with straights at the top, lesbians and gays at the bottom, and bisexuals in the middle, then bisexuals aligning with gays and lesbians at the expense of other bisexuals does not appear to be pick me behavior. It looks like a rejection of privilege. And indeed, that is what many people who do this would say they are doing. When bisexuals pillory our peers for, say, wanting a bisexual specific space, the justification is that asking for a bi-exclusive space is putting on airs, attempting to elevate yourself above the rest of the queer community rather than committing to be a part of the fight with everyone else.
But if you don’t accept that three tiered hierarchy (and if you read all the research that shows bisexuals are often materially worse off than monosexual queers, it’s a hierarchy that is harder to swallow), then bisexual pick me behavior becomes easier to spot. Yes, these bisexuals are rejecting the approval of straight folks. But they’re still seeking confirmation that they’re not like the “bad” bisexuals. They’re still seeking approval from monosexuals at the expense of other bis. They’re still doing the pick me dance — it just happens to be more nuanced because the frameworks that oppression bisexuals are nuanced.
It was hard for me to accept I was a pick me. No one wants to believe they’re actively betraying their community — it’s much easier to believe that those other members of our community are bad, are embarrassing, are making everyone else hate us through their own awful behavior. But the thing about pick mes is that — try as they might to convince themselves they can secure safety through proving they’re good enough, through earning enough goodwill — their status is never actually that stable. You’re always one misstep away from being thrust back into the bucket with the bad ones. Sometimes you don't even have to misstep: your willingness to admit that there is a “bad” group of people like you makes it easier for others to assume that everyone in the group must be bad.
So, as we kick off this brave new year, what if we all just tried to be more aware of our pick me behavior? What if we stopped ourselves before agreeing that, yes, this class of bisexuals is bad and everyone is right to pick on them and maybe asked ourselves what, exactly, we’re accomplishing?
I mean, I know that my life got better when I stopped being a pick me. Maybe yours will too.
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