Bisexuals in Literature

This post was inspired by reading Libba Bray's novel Beauty Queens, which is awesome and hilarious and the good kind of feminism, even if it does have diversity issues.  Like the fact that the only characters with distinct personalities are the white ones; the supporting cast the Black Girl, the Indian Girl (who become besties based on the fact they are both not white, which is actually played straight rather well), the Tomboyish Lesbian, the Transgender Girl, the Deaf Girl, etc.  Whereas the white characters that the story spends a (admittedly slight) majority of the time with include the Friendless Intellectual, the Psychopathic Perfectionist, the Wild Girl, and the Dumb Blond With A Heart Of Gold.  Y'know, actual personality types instead of just Issues.

But today's rant is about the Bisexual Girl, who in Beauty Queens doubles as the Deaf Girl.

What happens in the book is that a plane full of beauty pageant queens crashes on a deserted island (think Lord of the Flies with girls).  At one point, the Lesbian is wandering through the jungle, when she rescues the Deaf Bisexual Girl from being eaten by a snake, and falls in love.  Before she has any inkling that this girl might not be straight. 

Problems so far:

1.  The cardinal rule of being gay is DON'T FALL IN LOVE WITH A STRAIGHT PERSON.  For us, the question "Are they gay?"  has to come before "Do I like them?"  Granted, this might just be a me-thing, but it always irks me when I read a book where a girl falls in love with a girl before she has reason to thinks he might not be straight.  It just doesn't work like that.  To put it simply, heterosexuality is a real turn-off.

2.  If I were wandering through the jungle and ran across someone being eaten by a snake and had to rescue them, what are the chances we would have compatible sexualities?  If it were me, it would turn out to be a gay man.  Seriously.

Anyway, the Lesbian falls for the Bisexual Deaf Girl, who, as she is also a dancer, incites some oddly homoerotic moments with the Lesbian, who draws a fantasy comic with her as a superhero rescuing her love, when the BDG walks in on her, sees the comic, and they make out after only a brief:  "Are you gay?"  "Are you?"

3.  I'm not going to knock the coincidence.  The entire premise of the book is ridiculous, and it only gets wackier from their, with government conspiracies and insane third-world dictators.  But since BDG is established as bi, she really should have realized that asking the Lesbian to dance with her is rather flirtatious.  And since the Lesbian is sort of dykish tomboyish, BDG ought to have suspected her of not being straight, even if the Lesbian could not ping on her because you can't tell with bi girls.

There are about two paragraphs dedicated to the fact that the Deaf Girl is bi. And when hot male pirates show up on the island, she doesn't seem to get the slightest bit of enjoyment from the sight of all that man-candy.  Sure, she's dating the token Lesbian, but she can still look, can't she?

4.  Here we get into the problems extant in the wider literature.  YA authors who are big on diversity will throw in a token bi character to date their token gay character, so they can be super-extra representative.  The problems arise when bi characters are simply treated as gay characters.  Exhibit A, Alex Sanchez's masterpiece of the 90's, Rainbow Boys.  The Token Bi here actually dumps his girlfriend to be with the gay main character.  Bisexual, sure.  Bisexual training wheels maybe.  A later book mentions him grinning at the sight of a naked girl, but that's about all we get.

Exhibit B:  David Levithan's Boy Meets Boy, and if you ever want to gag on a rainbow made of pure sugar, read that book.  Anyway, the bi guy there serves absolutely no function with regards to the plot, and has a backstory of making out with the main character and then claiming he was taken advantage of and really likes girls.  This is supposed to be in a fantastical super-tolerant queer utopia.  He can't be like "Oh, I'm bi, I guess that's okay"?

Exhibit C:  Brent Hartinger's Geography Club.  This one is a girl.  Who is dating a lesbian.  I believe in later books she crushes on a girl.  But she keeps referencing the fact that she is bi, and talks about hot guys with her gay bestie.

The root of the problem, I hypothesize, is that it is difficult to realistically portray a character who is attracted to both guys and girls without making them a slut.  A character gets only one designated love interest per story, after all, and a love triangle would be tricky because resolving it would make it seem like the author were favoring one orientation over another.

Solutions?

1.  Spend time talking about the bisexual character's emotions and development and coming out.  Bisexuals never come out!  Why is that?  Is it somehow not necessary?  Are they not a "real" queer unless they are dating a member of the same gender?  Is it because bisexual has the word "sex" in it?  I don't know.  But think about your heterosexual characters, and how they react to characters of the opposite gender who are not their designated love interest.  There can be sexual tension without a romantic subplot.

2.  A bi girl can date a guy, and still be active in queer rights stuff.  Trust me, I know people personally.  They don't lose their gay if they start dating someone of the opposite gender.  In fact, in brings up interesting plot points.  How does the boyfriend feel?  Is he weirded out, or chill?

3.  Heck, you could have two bisexuals of any gender combination date each other.  That would be an interesting relationship dynamic.

4.  Back to Beauty Queens:  When I saw the two token queers were going to hook up, I groaned and came up with an alternative subplot involving a token bi and a token lesbian.  Suppose it is a bitchy lipstick lesbian.  In fact, she might be the Psychotic Perfectionist.  Then, there's also a bi girl, one of the quiet ones who silently hates the lesbian's guts.  *Gasp!*  No token queer solidarity/romance?  Unthinkable!  If this were to happen, I would not even mind if the bi girl were crushing on a straight girl, as long as she eventually got over her.  Maybe hooked up with one of the hot pirates.  And then the lesbian can date some chick in the epilogue after she becomes a nice person, to prove that homosexual relationships are okay too. 

Seriously, not all gays like each other.  You can't put a pair of us on a deserted island and expect us to automatically mate, any more than you could put a heterosexual guy and girl on an island and expect them to.

(On the plus side, they don't hookup ever after; they break up amicably and the bi girl is dating a guy in the epilogue, while the lesbian is married.  So it ended up not being too bad.)

"Frostfire" - by Kai Meyer (Part 3/7)

            Some distance away, Mouse’s shoe-wagon waited, a steely law on four wheels.

            “You would really just give it to me?” she asked doubtfully.

            He beamed like the imitation gold on the walls.  “I can’t do anything else with it anyway.”

            “I don’t have any money.”

            “I want to just give it to you.”

            He doesn’t like you, her inner voice warned.  No one here likes you.

            “Agreed!”  she burst out.  Her heart raced yet again, as fast as it had when the Roundsman had grabbed her.  Only now for a better reason.

            “Right then,” Maxim said, stepped with her into the hall, closed the grate from the outside with a key, and affixed a metal sign on it with the label Out of Order.  Mouse found that to be rather daring.  But presumably one such as Maxim could be allowed such escapades.

            Mouse followed him down the hall, to a door whose inscription pointed out that only hotel personnel had entry.  Behind it lay an even narrower, darker hallway that led to the dormitories of the employees.  No carpet, no pictures on the walls.  Here pipes lay in the open over the plaster, not behind wood paneling.

            Maxim went with Mouse to the end of the corridor. An emergency exit was located there, a heavy door with iron bars; Mouse had no idea what lay behind them.  She knew the outside of the Hotel solely from the paintings in the ballroom, and there only the splendid facades were to be seen, not, however, the backs or other sections of the buildings.

            “Wait here,” said Maxim.  The doors of the bedrooms were located on the left and right of the hall.  Every six men had to share a room.  The rooms of the female employees lay a floor below. 

            Mouse nodded to him as he disappeared with an encouraging smile behind the last door on the left side.  A musty cloud of bedroom scent wafted over to Mouse.

            Here she felt anything but well, and already regretted taking the offer.  If anyone chanced to come out of one of the rooms, she would not be able to flee out of this dead end.  The door of the emergency exit to her back seemed at once to be even taller and heavier.

            She had no fear of a beating – the other girls and boys never went that far – but it would be enough that they would keep making fun of her.  Mouse had long ago stopped wondering why, even though she had never done anything to harm anyone.  Her only sin was her lowly work. And the way she looked.

            Perhaps Maxim’s uniform would change something about that.  If possible, she could win a little respect with it.  This fantasy alone was worth the risk of standing around in the corridor of the men’s quarters in the middle of the night.

            The door of the room swung open again.  Maxim stepped into the hall.

            “That was quick,” she said, with a shy smile.

            In his hands he held an old blanket like a bundle of rags.  Completely tattered and rumpled.

            “The moths were quicker,” he said, and it sounded just as friendly as he had before in the elevator.  For the first time Mouse realized that treachery did not always have to accompany malice and mockery; sometimes it hid itself behind a façade of courtesy and charm.

Corchet! Yay!

So, this semester I'm working on killing off some of my GE's, meaning that I am taking several classes that are fairly easy and fairly boring.  And what do we do when we are bored in class? 

Crochet!

The above scarf was made with Red Heart Super Soft yarn in teal, using a size I hook.  Pattern:  ch 22, *dc in third ch from hook, hdc in same loop; skip one st, repeat from * to end, dc.  Ch. 2, turn.

This one was made from Bernat Mosaic Calypso (gotta love yarn names).  With size H hook, ch 251, sc across, rinse, repeat.  It's my first scarf worked lengthwise, and I liked it so much I started a similar one with a different color but the same type of yarn.

For the hat, I adapted this pattern to a size J hook and LionBrand Vanna's Choice (in Wildberry).  Ch 64 instead of 46, and work 10 rows of the rib pattern instead of 8.

Responsibility

My life in isolation in Scheissburg drove me over the edge, but I think it is fair to say that I had been pushed to the edge by the previous semester.  Long story and confidential events shortened, I became Mark from the musical Rent.  I watched my best buddy Roger get his heart torn apart by Mimi (or perhaps he would be Benny by now), and dealt with Maureen's craziness on the side.  I watched my world and my friends sink into hell, and there was not a damn thing I could do about it, not even make a stupid movie.  Mark is a really sucky character to be.  He doesn't actually do anything.  Just stands around and mopes while everyone deals with crap.  He doesn't even affect anything.  He doesn't end up with a lover.  FML.

The play neglects to mention, however, just how much it hurts to be in that situation.  To simultaneously be certain there is nothing you can do and still have the urge to fix everything.  Torn apart, much?

In summary, my two resolutions for this year are:  1.  Stop being afraid of things that won't kill me (did I mention that already?) and 2.  Don't make things my problem that aren't.  Because I came to the realization that I can't take care of anyone else if I can't take care of myself.

So now that we're in the second act, Maureen is having trouble with Joanne, and I can tell him what we all know he needs to do.  I can assure him a thousand times over that yes, people are going to be upset with him, but we as his friends will never abandon him.  But when it comes right down to it, this is something he can only do himself.

Last fall got to the point where I wanted to confront Mimi/Benny and have a very frank conversation with him about my take on what was going on.  That did not happen until after it was essentially too late.  Now, I'm choking off the impulse to do the same with Joanne.  She barely knows me.  And yet...I know she's about to go through hell.  A part of me thinks I could say something, do something, to make it easier.  So where do I draw the line?  Is she my problem, or isn't she?  Do I keep from getting involved, or am I already involved?

What is going to happen is that I won't say anything unless she approaches me.  Then all bets are off.  This is a very delicate situation, and any direct interference from me could very easily swing things the wrong way.  So Mark, get thee behind thy camera where you belong.  The best thing I can do now is call encouragement as the actors play their parts.  For I am an actor too, and I have my own parts to play.

How did we get here?  How the hell - ?
Pan left.  Close on the steeple of the church...

Why are entire years strewn on the cutting room floor
Of memory?
When single frames from one magic night
Forever flicker in close up
Of the 3D Imax of my mind?...

Why am I the witness?
And when I capture it on film?
Will it mean that it's the end, and I'm alone?

Well, I'm Still Alive

Life has just been rushing by so fast, I hardly have time to sit down and catch my breath.  Classes have started up, and I just dropped a class for the first time.  Yay!  Semantics and Pragmatics is exactly as dry and pointless as it sounds.  So now I can concentrate on "Why the hell am I taking Racquetball?"  and "Why the hell am I reading these pretentious artsy plays?"

There's a temporary lull, just before all the orgs start up.  Since I dropped English, I might do German Club after all (might, mind you).  But since I'm coaching fencing, and technically have some sort of officer position in Outloud (the LGBTQA oh screw political correctness, the gay group on campus), I really don't want to stretch myself too thin like I did last fall. 

Fortunately, drama has so far been kept at a minimum.  There is a minor issue with a Jesus-freak who is in and out of the closet like a jack-in-the-box, but he is not my problem, and I will not let him become my problem.  I have two resolutions for this year.  One is to not make things my problem that aren't, because it doesn't help and just stresses me out.  The other is to stop being afraid of things that won't kill me, namely (I finally thought of name, aren't I special) page fright.

I haven't been writing a lot lately.  I don't know why.  I don't really feel inspired.  To keep in shape, I've been writing a page a day of whatever comes into my head (and no, you can't see any, yes that means you).  Perhaps if I feel daring I might post some of the better samples.  Some of them seem to be connected, leading to intriguing possibilities.  I'll probably have something ready to go for NaNoWriMo in November.  It's like my normal mood swings (not my 8-month depressive stint) where I know I'll swing back eventually. Sooner or later another story will come.

Rainbow Triceratops Attack!

This is Trissie the Triceratops, who I crocheted over the summer.  She now resides in my dorm.

It seems to be a thing to post crochet patterns on blogs, but I didn't actually make this up.  I got it here, substituting gray for rainbow, and since I had no actual animal eyes, I scrounged up some buttons.  It actually works quite well.  Though I still can't figure out why the legs on the pattern critter are so much shorter than Trissies.  Oh well.