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The fight for bisexual youth is not rhetorical or symbolic; it is a material struggle over whether bisexual people are permitted to have a lifespan. Youth protection is the infrastructure of elderhood. When bisexual young people are erased from schools, denied competent healthcare, dismissed by families, or pathologized as “confused” or “temporary,” the result is not ambiguity it is attrition. People burn out, disappear from community, age into poverty and isolation, or die younger. This is how histories are amputated before they mature. Bisexual elders do not emerge spontaneously; they are produced only when young people are given language early, safety consistently, and dignity without preconditions. Every demand that a bi youth fragment themselves to be tolerated straight enough here, queer enough there is a quiet foreclosure on their future. A movement that claims to value queer futures while treating bisexual youth as expendable is not neutral; it is actively manufacturing a future without continuity.


Bisexual elders are living archives, but they are also evidence of the cost of survival in the absence of protection. Many carry decades of medical neglect, economic precarity, family estrangement, and movement level betrayal because no one intervened early enough. Protecting bisexual youth is how that damage stops reproducing itself. It is how aging becomes something other than shrinking visibility and accumulating loss. This fight is about housing, mental healthcare, education, data integrity, and community structures that do not abandon people once they age out of trend cycles or respectability politics. The stakes are brutally concrete: who lives long enough to mentor, who gets remembered, and who is allowed to exist without apology across an entire life. If we want bisexual elders tomorrow, we must defend bisexual youth now with zero ambiguity. Anything less is not oversight it is complicity.

Confronting Biphobia with Scholarship and Courage

Beloved community, scholars, activists, truth-seekers, and everyone committed to justice: today, we gather not to whisper about biphobia in polite tones, but to confront it directly, with the clarity and uncompromising honesty that this fight demands. Biphobia is not abstract. It is not a minor inconvenience, nor a social quirk, nor a difference of opinion. It is structural, pervasive, and psychologically violent. It exists in families, in schools, in workplaces, in healthcare systems, in media narratives, and yes—even within communities that claim to be “inclusive” and “queer-friendly.” To survive as a bisexual person in a world that refuses to recognize your existence is to navigate a constant minefield of skepticism, erasure, and delegitimization. Let us be unflinchingly clear: bisexuality is erased, mocked, and invalidated every single day. People are told they are “confused,” “indecisive,” or “not really queer.” These are not idle insults—they are tools of erasure, weapons of a culture invested in enforcing a binary understanding of desire. To confront biphobia is to refuse to play by those rules, to speak truth where society demands silence, and to insist that reality—complex, fluid, multifaceted—is acknowledged fully.

Biphobia kills—not metaphorically, but in concrete, measurable ways. It kills mentally through chronic stress, isolation, and internalized shame. It kills physically through the lack of accurate health education, the omission of bisexual populations from public health research, and the systemic neglect of healthcare needs unique to bisexual individuals. Studies consistently show that bisexual people experience higher rates of depression, anxiety, and suicidal ideation than their gay, lesbian, or heterosexual peers (Feinstein & Dyar, 2017). Public health data reveals increased vulnerability to HIV exposure, sexually transmitted infections, substance misuse, and intimate partner violence (Barker et al., 2012). These are not abstractions—they are lived realities, measurable and devastating. Every statistic represents a life compromised, a human being made vulnerable by structural invisibility. Let us not be polite about this: erasure is intentional. It is a byproduct of a society that benefits from a rigid binary of sexuality, a society that depends on the erasure of those who refuse categorization. This is the uncomfortable truth: when you exist outside the binary, you are inconvenient. And when you are inconvenient, society attempts to erase you.

Let us also speak plainly about the myths that perpetuate biphobia. Bisexuality is not a phase. Bisexuality is not indecision. Bisexuality is not an excuse for promiscuity or a transitional state toward another identity. Longitudinal research demonstrates that bisexuality is stable and consistent (Savage et al., 2018). Across cultures and throughout history, non-monosexual desire has been recognized and documented: the Kama Sutra, ancient Greek and Roman texts, and Indigenous Two-Spirit traditions in North America all provide evidence of the historical reality of bisexuality and fluid sexual expression. To those who insist that bisexuality “doesn’t exist” or that individuals must “pick a side,” I say: you are standing on the bones of centuries of erased people. This is not rhetorical flourish; this is literal truth. Dismissing bisexuality is not a neutral position. It is active harm, a refusal to acknowledge reality, a contribution to the violence of invisibility.

Scholarship is resistance. Knowledge is power, but only if wielded with clarity and intent. When we name bisexuality, document its history, and teach its realities, we strike at the heart of erasure. It is insufficient to simply exist; existence alone does not dismantle prejudice. Evidence-based advocacy is essential. Mental health disparities, for example, are not the “fault” of bisexual individuals—they are the predictable outcomes of constant invalidation, cultural erasure, and systemic neglect. Health inequities, exposure to violence, and social isolation are structural consequences of biphobia, not individual shortcomings. To ignore scholarship is to participate in the oppression it documents. To teach, to document, to name, and to challenge is an act of survival and a radical act of justice.

But scholarship alone is insufficient. Courage must accompany knowledge. Courage is action taken in the presence of fear. It is the refusal to remain silent when society insists that erasure is acceptable. Courage manifests in confronting microaggressions, demanding bisexual-inclusive curricula, advocating for comprehensive public health interventions, and holding institutions accountable for their neglect. Courage is direct. Courage is uncomfortable. Courage is necessary. And yes, there will be backlash. There will be ridicule, dismissal, and derision. There will be people who insist that “bisexuality isn’t important enough to discuss.” But the cost of silence is higher: it is the perpetuation of harm, the continued invisibility, and the affirmation of erasure as acceptable. To survive quietly is complicity. To confront boldly is justice.

We must also confront a harsh truth: biphobia exists within queer communities. It exists subtly, insidiously, and often under the guise of concern or critique. Bisexual individuals are told they are “not queer enough,” accused of betraying gay or lesbian identity politics, or reduced to stereotypes of promiscuity or indecision. This internal policing is deeply cruel, because it masquerades as inclusion while maintaining erasure. Visibility is not charity. Recognition is not optional. Inclusion is not a favor to be granted. It is a demand for justice. Any queer space that refuses to center bisexual voices is failing at its own stated principles. Accountability within the LGBTQ+ community is as crucial as accountability outside it.

Activism that is grounded in scholarship and courage transforms knowledge into tangible change. This is not performative activism; it is actionable, measurable, and strategic. Public health initiatives must include bisexual-specific research and programs. Schools and universities must integrate bisexual history into curricula, both to affirm identity and to challenge erasure. Media must reflect the reality of bisexual lives, resisting stereotypical or sensationalist portrayals. Every initiative, every program, every policy is an act of resistance. Visibility is survival. Inclusion is resistance. Every study cited, every classroom discussion, every policy implemented chips away at the edifice of biphobia.

Finally, let us speak bluntly about ethical responsibility. Confronting biphobia is not optional. It is moral, urgent, and necessary. Every silence, every shrug, every shrug of “it’s not my fight” is a choice to perpetuate harm. Ethical action requires naming biphobia when we see it, challenging erasure wherever it exists, and committing to structural change in education, health, and policy. Two-Spirit activists, for example, link the fight against sexual erasure to the broader struggle for Indigenous sovereignty—an example of how ethical activism extends across intersecting systems of oppression. Silence in the face of erasure is complicity; courage is liberation.

Beloved community, the call is unambiguous: educate relentlessly, confront boldly, refuse invisibility, and insist on justice. Scholarship must guide understanding. Courage must fortify action. Ethical responsibility must direct collective efforts. This fight is not polite. It is not easy. It is not optional. It is necessary. To confront biphobia is to affirm life, dignity, and the full spectrum of human desire. Stand firm. Speak truth. Refuse erasure. Confront biphobia with all the rigor, knowledge, and courage you can muster. Do not settle for survival alone. Demand recognition, demand inclusion, and demand justice—for the lives, health, and identities of bisexual people, and for the integrity of a world that claims to value truth and human dignity.

References:

Barker, M., et al. (2012). Bisexuality: Theoretical Approaches and Health Implications. Routledge.

Feinstein, B. A., & Dyar, C. (2017). Bisexuality, mental health, and minority stress. Current Sexual Health Reports, 9(1), 42–49.

Herek, G. M. (2002). Heterosexuals’ attitudes toward bisexual men and women in the United States. Journal of Sex Research, 39(4), 264–274.

Savage, M., et al. (2018). Stability and fluidity of sexual orientation identity: Evidence from longitudinal studies. Archives of Sexual Behavior, 47(7), 1935–1952.

Scherrer, K. S. (2010). Coming to an understanding of bisexuality: An analysis of identity development. Journal of Bisexuality, 10(2–3), 189–203.

Statement on National Bi+ Erasure


The current U.S. administration has been loudly and aggressively attacking the trans community in ways that have taken center stage in all of our news feeds. We have been standing in solidarity with our trans, nonbinary, gender-nonconforming, and intersex siblings as politicians the world over try to erase this vibrant community from our collective history and culture. This heightened climate of transphobia endangers lives, undermines civil rights, and is an affront to humanity.



And make no mistake: those who would attack the trans community have always intended to come for every single letter of the acronym.



Alongside the explicit attacks on things like gender-affirming care and the right to transition, we’re now experiencing a quiet and methodical erasure of bisexual history by the Trump administration as well.



Journalist Erin Reed has brought attention to the fact that, without much fanfare, the National Park Service has removed all references to bisexuals from its Stonewall National Monument webpages. Originally reading “lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, or queer (LGBTQ+),” the website was first altered to remove all uses of “transgender” and strike the ‘TQ+’ from “LGBTQ+”.



It now reads: “Stonewall was a milestone for gay and lesbian civil rights that provided momentum for a movement.” All references to “bisexual” have been excluded.



As an organization dedicated to helping build up a thriving bi+ community, we have a lot to say about bisexual erasure. We are no strangers to attempts to exclude us from the broader queer community, and we are not going anywhere quietly. Bi+ people have always been here, and we will always be here. Those who took the digital whiteout to the national Stonewall website should be ashamed of what they’ve done, but they should also know that there’s no victory for them on the other side of such actions. We’re not going anywhere, and we will make sure that future generations know where we have been.



To every bisexual, pansexual, polysexual, and queer person out there: you are far too valuable to ever be erased or forgotten. Bi+ history is LGBTQ+ history. We will never stop telling our stories and recognizing each other. No administration or government will keep us from fighting for our collective future and appreciating the unique place we occupy in our societal rainbow.



And to all our lesbian, gay, trans, ace, and other queer families: we are here for you and we hope you will be here for us in turn. We need each other. We have nothing to lose and everything to gain from standing hand-in-hand with our fellow LGBTQ+ community members, facing every threat in solidarity. Our stories have always been intertwined, and so are our hopes for a better, safer, and more rightfully inclusive future.



In solidarity,

The Bisexual Resource Center

https://biresource.org/

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Bisexual fatherhood is not rare, not anomalous, and not confused. It is statistically common, emotionally complex, and politically urgent. The current systems academic, medical, legal, and cultural are not neutral in their exclusion of bisexual fathers. They actively erase.


This erasure ends when we center bisexual fathers not as anomalies, but as experts in love, resilience, and justice. Their experiences offer a radical blueprint for inclusive parenting in the 21st century. And it’s time we stop forcing them to parent in silence.


We have the evidence. We have the moral imperative. What we need now is the political will and the activist urgency to act.

destroy-the-binary
destroy-the-binary said:

Hello! I'm creating a queer resource page, and I was wondering if I could send people your way for advice, support, etc. Would that be alright?

Sure I can try my best I can’t promise how helpful it will be but I can try my best