Being a Bisexual Killjoy While Building Community
Lynn begins the move to Boston
As many LGBT folks know, chosen family is a big part of our culture. We have felt pushed to build these families up from scratch, or have simply moved too far away for families of origin to provide material support in any given situation. Such is the case for my current move to Boston.
For the past two years, I’ve been living in upstate New York, working on a Master of Arts degree, which I finally completed! This fall, I’m starting a PhD program in Boston. It’s all very exciting and somewhat daunting. I feel very grateful for all my time in New York, for all the connections I have made, steps taken, and, of course, meeting my wonderful nesting partner. As we prepare to put our things in boxes and drive three hours to Massachusetts, a few things have become clear to me.
First, this is my first big move without family by my side. As a Latina and eldest daughter, my family of origin has been fundamental for me on many levels. They have supported me through a myriad of life changes. But this move, from one place that still feels very new to another newer place, is one I’m doing without them.
Thankfully, that doesn’t mean I’m doing it alone. My nesting partner has done me the greatest honor of going full remote to join me in a new state. Anna’s friends and family have already offered to help out through the process, especially if we choose to rent a U-Haul.
Second, being a queer same-gender couple with queer friends, the jokes were bound to surface at some point. It was during one of these moving-related conversations when Anna’s friend was offering help that we were hit with the classic “U-Haul Lesbian” joke. I had a vague idea of the stereotype, but only from the distorted context of TikTok.
“You’re lesbians, right? You should know how to load up a U-Haul by now.” I overheard the voice on the phone say.
“Actually, and Lynn would never forgive me if I didn’t say this, we’re bisexual.” Anna responded, almost immediately.
Admittedly, when I heard Anna say that, I had conflicting feelings.
First of all, “Oh my gods, yes! That’s my partner being a Bisexual Killjoy!” quickly followed by, “Oh shit. They’re gonna think we can’t take a joke.”
We talk a lot about the importance of being a killjoy on the podcast - I mean, it’s in the name. But something both Bailey and I know is that, in practice, it can be difficult. While bringing up bisexuality in the classroom feels like my personal intro-music, being a killjoy around my partner’s friends is a whole different ball game.
Truth is, I don’t want to jeopardize my opportunity for community before I even get the chance to meet them. It’s important to me that I can relate in friendly ways to the people who are important in my partner’s life, and I haven’t had the chance to meet all of them. If they’re a part of the LGBT community, I want to be able to relate to them on that basis. But sometimes, even I can forget how ubiquitous bisexual erasure can be.
It was only when I heard Anna laugh that I let myself relax. The world wasn’t ending, and my relationship with her friend wasn’t actually over before it even began. Everything was fine because they cared for her, and that meant not taking things personally when she affirmed her bisexuality.
Sometimes, building a diverse community and being a Bisexual Killjoy can feel like competing interests. So much about our social interactions focuses on binary observations of the world, making light of one end or another. Choosing to create a community in a way that is actively (and not just incidentally) affirming our bisexuality is a radical form of self-care. It is imperative that when we think of a chosen family, we think of choosing ourselves first, and prioritize actively celebrating all parts that are important to us.
With my move-in date getting closer by the minute, I’m excited to create community in a new place. I’m choosing to be mindful of the steps I take and focus on fostering friendships that are affirming of my bisexuality, Puerto Rican history, and experiences as a disabled person of color. I’m looking forward to attending bi+ events, and relating to others on the complexity that is the human experience. And maybe, I’ll run into old friends while going out to dance.
Stay Bisexual & Stay Strong,
Lynn