LGBTQ

Chances are, if the average American woman were stopped on the street and asked, “Do you have equal rights in America under the law?” she would reply, “Yes.” But does she?

Greedy. Confused. Slutty. If you’re bisexual, chances are you’ve heard these labels (and worse) thrown at you from all sides, probably even by people you consider friends.

It was in my second year of college that a girl expressed sexual interest in me. It took me a month to realize that what I thought were hangouts were actually dates. It took me another month to realize I wanted them to be dates. As I realized I wanted her to like me, I slipped back into my old routine — my makeup got more advanced and my hair was always straightened. I still thought that to be attractive, I had to be as feminine as possible. I’d been a hardcore ally for a decade at that point, but had no idea about the politics of beauty within the queer community; I thought I was stepping back into my old role.

Caitlyn Jenner is returning to the airwaves (cable-waves? Digital streaming waves?) this weekend with the second season of a reality show documenting her life after coming out as transgender. The promos show clips filled with drama, laughter, and many, many outfits. Soooooo many outfits.

I don’t identify with the heterosexual norms that have been shoved down my throat and the pathologizing rhetoric that, for most of my life, shrieked "you’re broken," and then I was publicly ostracized by a person who identifies as part of "the community" — the same community I feel connected to.

The human brain is so easily conditioned and, without a word being spoken, the simple elimination of everything except for the “perfect body” in any form of media is enough to instill belief in our young ones that unless they have that desired body, they do not deserve to be seen.

It’s frustrating that most identities on the asexuality spectrum are qualified by a “lack” of something — desire, intimacy, attraction. I wonder, what might happen for demisexual (or asexual) people if we turn our focus toward what relationships contain, rather than what they’re missing.

I am Sharp Kadijah, a trans man. I come from the Eastern Region of Uganda, from a town called Mbale. It was on November 22, 2013 when I came out to my family, initially as a lesbian. It was like entering hell.