From Alex Gino's, "My Cleverly Titled Column," Fall '98 From Alex Gino's, "My Cleverly Titled Column," Fall '98You know that identity crisis you have when you go from single to "involved?" When you suddenly no longer need to focus on finding a date? I've got that crisis, and I've got it bad. Pronoun Game -- (n.) 1. A manner of speech used predominantly by closeted homosexuals in which one censors one's speech about a significant other or potential s.o. so as to eliminate pronouns. 2. A similar censoring of speech in which pronouns of one gender are substituted for the pronouns of another. For those with early morning classes, I'll be more blunt. I now have a boyfriend. An incredible, wonderful, lovely boyfriend, but a boyfriend nonetheless. So, why have I been playing the pronoun game? Let me explain. I have been defending my right to be bisexual for years, and will likely continue to do so for years to come. I wholeheartedly believe that most people, including me, are attracted to individuals, not merely to genders. Society has forced people into the heterosexual box for a long time. Recently, our culture has become more tolerant of "the homosexual." Bisexual people, however, remain largely invisible and misunderstood. I do not need a man and a woman to be happy. Rather, I need a person to love who loves me, regardless of genitalia. Some bisexuals tend to love men, others tend to love women and others love both equally. So here I am, a happy bisexual in love with a man. No problem? Stop the Big Bi Boat Ride. There's a problem. In all of my work in supporting bisexuality, I've been visibly queer. My queerness is very important to me. Many of my friends are in the LGBA and I work at the LGB Center. I care about queer issues such as the freedom to marry and freedom from discrimination and hate crimes. It's important to me that people know I'm bisexual. It shows people that, yes, we are out here. You know us as neighbors, friends and classmates. Now, when I walk around, arm in arm with a man, all I can do is think, "Oh, no. Do these people think I'm straight?" Part of me says that I just shouldn't care what people think about me, but the rest of me thinks, "Of course I care. I'm proud to be a dyke and there's no way that I'm going to let these people thrust me back into the closet. I want to be visible, just as much as I want to be with my boyfriend." On the street, I can't help looking heterosexual when I'm with my boyfriend. In conversations, however, I can hide. I can talk about my "good friend Josh," my "significant other" or "the person I'm seeing." This way, my queer identity isn't challenged. I don't have to deal with questions. I don't have to justify anything. I finally know what it's like to play the pronoun game I've seen closeted friends use in mixed company all the time. And then I remember: I hate pronoun games. I hate hiding. I hate not being honest. I'm queer, yes, but I'm also an elementary education major, a writer, an activist, a fan of music and a reader. I love hockey, hugs and, as I've recently discovered, cooking. My life is not just my sexual orientation and, sometimes, I need to sacrifice the cause for myself. I've conceded to openly calling my boyfriend just that. Now, I'd like you to concede something. If you see a male-female couple and assume that both participants are straight, acknowledge the assumption. Then remember that this might not be the case. This isn't just a plea to "the heterosexual," or even "the monosexual." This is a plea to everyone. I've caught myself jumping to conclusions a number of times, particularly when the two people "look" straight, whatever that means. But relationships are not bisexual; people are. Sexual orientation is based on attraction, not action. Even if I stay with my boyfriend monogamously for the rest of my life, I will continue to be bisexual. And I will continue to be proud.
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