Arriving Late to My Own Bi+ History

Bailey reflects on lost archives, long-distance activism, and the ache of building bi+ community from fragments.

I can’t help but feel like I arrived to the party too late.

Every time I learn another name—Robyn Ochs, ABilly Jones-Henin, Lani Ka`ahamanu, Lorraine Hutchins, Alan Hamilton, Woody Glenn, Bobbi Keppel—I feel like I’ve shown up after everyone else already bonded over a shared struggle, the kind that builds lifelong friendships and inside jokes. They were out there forming organizations, marching in parades, writing policy, creating infrastructure for a community that was never supposed to exist. Meanwhile, I’m sitting in a mostly empty Zoom room, waiting for bi+ writers to show up to a write-in.

They said they wanted community. I said I’d build it. And yet, here I am with three seltzers, a stack of prompts, and an empty chair where the future is supposed to sit.

The world feels too big, and my community feels too small.