A very long post about bisexuality, fidelity, fantasy, masturbation and desire: a response to Neil

One of my readers, “Neil”, is finishing up an M.Div and busy working as a pastor in a small congregation. He’s doing a lot of counseling. He wrote to me a few days ago:

So I’m reading your blog procrastinating from household chores
on my day off and come across (no pun intended–really) one of your
posts on masturbation.

I’ll get to the point now: In my pastoral work, I recently
had a conversation with a married bisexual man–whose wife knows he is
and did even before they got married. Masturbation has come up in the
context of “I’m married to my wife and want to be entirely faithful to
her, but what do I do with my desires for men?” I wonder what your
perspective is on orientation and fidelity for bisexuals in a
Christian context.

Since this topic may not be what everyone wants to read about, the remainder of the post is below the cut.

I have a category archive on masturbation, and I’ve written a lot about Christian sexual ethics, most recently here.

There’s a lot in Neil’s note to unpack — issues of ethics, of fidelity, of what it means to be bisexual in a monogamous relationship, of faith. I realize, reading Neil’s note, that though I blog reasonably regularly about gay and lesbian issues, I rarely touch on bisexuality. Before getting to the other aspects of Neil’s parishioner’s issue, let me say a few things about that particular topic.

I learned a long time ago that few topics spurred such heated discussions in gay and lesbian political circles as that of bisexuality. When I was working with Berkeley’s GLBA (Gay, Lesbian, Bisexual Alliance) back in the mid-1980s, I remember hearing disparaging remarks made regularly about bisexuals. Indeed, Cal’s organization had originally been named simply the “Gay and Lesbian Alliance”, and “Bisexuals” had only been added in in the early ’80s, shortly before I arrived on campus. (The inclusion of transgendered folk was still several years and several more arguments away.) The slurs against bisexuals were the sort that one still hears today:

“Nobody’s really bisexual, bisexuality is just a transition phase before making a final decision.”

“Someone who says they are bi is just a coward, unwilling to ‘commit’ to full homosexuality.”

“Bisexuals can’t be trusted in relationships; as soon as things get ‘real’, they’ll bail out for someone of a different sex.”

And those were some of the nicer things that were said.

I also noticed then something I still notice today. Both straight and queer folks seemed, on the whole, to be more willing to accept the possibility of female bisexuality. Even now, I still often hear folks who place themselves at either extreme of the Kinsey Scale saying things like: “I suppose that some women are genuinely capable of being romantically and sexually attracted to both sexes. But men? No way. Any man who claims to be bisexual is lying, confused, or immature. There’s no such thing as a ‘truly bisexual’ male over the age of 30.” I hear this even from some of my friends who teach GLBTQ studies on other campuses.

This is not the post in which to explore the phenomenon of “bi-phobia”, a problem that still manifests itself in some sectors of the queer community as well as in the general public. It’s sufficient to say that we are a culture that likes labels, and feels most comfortable with concrete certainties. That love of absolutes leads to the common misconception that to be bisexual is to be fundamentally unstable and untrustworthy. And one of our deepest and most pervasive myths about bisexuality is that the potential for attraction to both sexes somehow makes fidelity to any one person especially challenging, if not downright impossible. Add in the tales of woe told by folks (both gay and straight) who “fell in love with someone who claimed to be bisexual and then got dumped”, and we have for ourselves a dominant narrative about bisexuality that is fundamentally suspicious.

Let me be clear: for some people, “bisexuality” clearly is a developmental phase. Many adult gay men and lesbians speak of having dated or been sexually involved with folks of the other sex. While some queer folks say that they “have always known” that they were gay or lesbian, going back to the age of five, others discovered that their primary attraction was to their same sex much later in life. In a culture that is much more repressive of female sexuality than of male, it’s more common to hear these stories of discovering one’s own identity well into adulthood from women. But we hear these accounts from plenty of men as well. And for a few of these, the label “bisexual” may have been a temporary comfort as they transitioned towards a more permanent identity as queer.

I’ve been working on issues of sexuality all of my adult life: as an academic, as a mentor, as a sexuality educator, and as an embodied, sexual human being. And I have known adults of both sexes who were very clear that they were neither gay nor straight, but bi. I know men in their forties and fifties, men who are open and comfortable with their sexuality, who have done their “work” of growing up, who are insistent that they are at their core fundamentally capable of both sexual desire for and romantic connection with men and women. I admit that I know more adult women who identify as “bi”, but I’m not at all sure that that proves that adult, permanent bisexuality is somehow less common among men. Given that our entire culture is more accepting of female bisexuality (though often only for the purpose of feeding adolescent male heterosexual fantasy), it’s not surprising that relatively few adult men are willing to “fly the flag” publicly.

Not only am I certain that bisexuality can be a stable identity for adult men, I am also convinced that bisexuality is no more of an impediment to monogamy than membership in any other sexual category. When we pledge fidelity to another person, particularly in marriage, we “foresake all others” in order to direct all of our sexual energy in one direction. That’s a challenge for all of us, but a worthy one. What makes it challenging, of course, is that even for confirmed heterosexuals or homosexuals (a Kinsey “0″ or a “6″), our sexual desires are many and varied. As the wise learn and accept early, no one single individual can be all things to us. We’re going to be attracted to qualities that our mate doesn’t possess; the trick is to ensure that we redirect that energy back into our marriage and relationship.

A parellel to ethnicity and appearance is helpful. My wife is of mixed heritage; she is Nigerian/Spanish/indigenous Colombian/Croatian/Czech. She has what are often described as “exotic” features. My wife is beautiful. But she’s not blonde and blue-eyed. My third wife was blonde and blue-eyed. In my life, I’ve learned that I am capable of being attracted to blondes and brunettes. The fact that I commit my life to one doesn’t mean, however, that my marriage to a brown-eyed woman with coffee-colored skin will be crippled by a longing for a blonde, or a redhead.

If that seems superficial, consider the ways in which our ethnic heritage shapes our ways of seeing the world. In many ways, my wife “sees the world” from the perspective of a black woman — though most white folks don’t “see” her African heritage, she has certain ways of being in the world which are instantly recognizable as consistent with American black identity. On other days, especially when she’s in the company of her mother’s family and speaking castellano, her Latin roots are on full display. It’s quite engaging to me, of course. But my wife will never, ever, ever be a WASP — not in terms of her heritage, her world view, or her mannerisms. And I’ve been in love with and been married to WASPy women. But the fact that my wife cannot be all things to me doesn’t mean I am any less capable of fidelity.

But is sex the same as race? Is saying “I can be attracted to a woman from any race” really the same thing as saying “I can be attracted by both men and women”? Surely on the basis of genitalia (plumbing, if you will) alone, the differences between the sexes are more significant? That may be true. But it doesn’t change the fundamental dynamic of monogamy and fidelity: when we pledge ourselves to someone, we make a conscious choice to direct all of our sexuality towards that person, despite the fact that they can never be “all things” to us. When we marry, to paraphrase Donald Justice, we softly close the doors to rooms we won’t be coming back to. And if one has a history of having slept with folks of many races, or of both sexes, all it means is that in the act of marrying, you may have a few extra doors to shut. But the basic principle is the same: in pledging fidelity, we make a conscious choice to do what is often difficult and unnatural. In the end, the challenge is the same for all of us, no matter how diffuse and complex our sexuality.

So at last back to Neil’s parishioner and his query about fantasy and masturbation. I honor this man and his wife for their commitment to each other, to their trust, and to their honesty. They have as much chance of making their marriage work as any; bisexual orientation on the part of one or both spouses is no greater an impediment to lasting relationship than anything else. Most married folks, including the legions of purely heterosexual ones, struggle to direct all of their sexual thoughts and fantasies towards their spouse. Especially when children are in the picture, or there are work and money pressures, committed folks may find themselves fantasizing about and drawn to people other than their spouse. Nine times out of ten, they will be drawn to someone who has a quality that their spouse doesn’t have. It might be a more gregarious temperament, or it might be a penis. As a defense against loneliness and as a passive-aggressive way of fighting with our partner, we humans are prone to eroticizing those who are fundamentally unlike their current mate. The fact that bisexuals have a greater number of fantasy partners from which to choose for masturbatory reverie doesn’t make their struggle unique.

A lot of married folks masturbate alone. Many of them don’t think about their spouse as they climax. From a Christian perspective, entertaining a desire for someone else does fall short of the mark in marriage: Jesus is fairly clear about this in Matthew 5. But the Beatitudes represent a vision of the world for which we are struggling. We are called to love our enemies, and most of us try and sometimes fall short. We who are married are called to direct all of our sexual thoughts towards our spouses, but sometimes we fall short. Jesus calls us towards perfection, but in His grace, doesn’t make perfection right here, right now the sine qua non of being His follower and His friend. We will all be imperfect Christians, and imperfect spouses.

If Neil’s parishioner is genuinely bisexual, he’s probably going to be attracted to men for the rest of his life. Sexual thoughts and fantasies will come into his consciousness from time to time. But if he is genuinely bisexual, as some men really are, he can also take delight in being with his wife sexually. From a pastoral perspective, the goal is to work to strengthen the sexual connection between husband and wife. The threat to the marriage is not masturbation, it is not bisexuality, it is the failure to appreciate the wonder and goodness of one’s spouse. We each carry in us a spark of the divine; we are made in the image of God. When we make love, we worship with our body the aspect of God that is in our partner. That’s what needs focusing upon.

Telling someone not to masturbate is almost a guarantor of guilt. And guilt is, at least in this instance, useless. Mandating daily sex is a bad idea too, as I’ve written before. The wise pastoral answer, it seems to me, is to practice the old technique of “affirm and redirect.” Neil’s parishioner is bisexual, and that is who he is, and there’s nothing wrong with that. Bisexuality is not an affliction, or a problem to be overcome; it is an identity like any other, and like any other has its aspect of holiness. But while affirming this man’s sexuality for what it is, Neil can also affirm the unique joys and challenges of monogamy. Challenge both partners in the marriage to be creative and brave in terms of what they are willing to see in each other, bring out in each other, touch in each other. Challenge them to take their sexual life together to the next level of joy and unity. Is it easy? Heck, no. But can it be done? Of course. I’ve seen it in my own life and the lives of many around me.

I hope Neil will keep me posted.