"I love women, but I sleep with men too. I'm perceived as confused by my surroundings," says bisexual Kamil. Why does his sexuality provoke so much?
When you say that you love women, but you also sleep with men, many people imagine an inner contradiction. But you're quite calm and confident about it. How did you arrive at this setting?
For a long time I saw it as a contradiction myself, so I actually understand quite well how it can affect others. It's just that the contradiction came not from what I felt, but from what I thought I should feel. You grow up in an environment where heterosexuality is seen as normal. So when something else starts to get mixed in, you tend to push it out, downplay it, or rationalize it somehow. I, for example, for a long time told myself that it was just a curiosity, that it was a phase, that it would pass when I was "more mature".
But it didn't go away. Rather, it came back in different forms and intensities. I've had relationships with women that were really fulfilling, it wasn't "playing straight". But at the same time, I couldn't ignore that I was also attracted to men - and not just physically, but emotionally, humanly, in a way that couldn't be dismissed as a fling. The turning point came the moment I stopped asking myself "what I should be" and started asking myself "what is true". And the truth was that this was my reality.
When did you first acknowledge that this wasn't just a passing phase, but something that's been a part of you for a long time?
It was more of a process than one specific moment. But if I had to single something out, it was probably a period of about twenty, twenty-one years. Until then I tended to relativise everything. I told myself that everybody has some thoughts sometimes, that it doesn't mean anything, that it'll settle down. It's just that the more I tried to "sort it out," the more I felt like I was going against myself.
I remember one particular situation where I was in a relationship with a girl I really cared about. And yet, I realized that I was parallel attracted to someone else - a man. It wasn't that I was missing something in the relationship. It was that the attraction existed alongside it, not instead of it. And that's when I realized it wasn't a matter of lack or flaw, but simply a broader spectrum of what I was feeling.
This realization was, ironically, quite comforting. I stopped trying to "fix" something that wasn't broken. Rather, I started thinking about how to live with it in a way that was fair to myself and others.
You mention that accepting myself was actually a relief. How did those around you react when you started talking about it openly?
That was a much harder conflict than the internal one. I went through it gradually, I had time to think things through, to process, to understand. But for those around me, it often comes across as a done deal that doesn't make sense. And people generally have a problem with things that aren't clear.
The most common reaction was that I was confused. That I'm just not sure I'll "figure it out" one day. Some friends took it as something temporary, almost like a teenage experiment, even though I was well into my twenties. My family tended to push it out - not that they rejected me, but it was like they didn't want to hear it at all. And then there are the reactions that are openly dismissive, though perhaps wrapped up in worry: "You're making life difficult for yourself", "why don't you pick a side".
What surprised me was that similar reactions came from people in the LGBT community. One would expect more understanding, but there is also pressure for a clear identity. Some gay people saw me as "insincere" or "halfway", while the heterosexual community saw me as someone who was not actually "normal". You kind of find yourself between two worlds without fully fitting into one of them.
That "between two worlds" sounds like a pretty lonely position. Do you feel like bisexuality is still misunderstood in that regard today?
Definitely. And maybe that's because it's less conflicted than, say, homosexuality or transgender identity. Bisexuality is often seen as something less "real", less definitive. As if it were just a transitional state between two "real" orientations.
But this misses the point entirely. Bisexuality is not indecision. Nor is it "having it all". It is the ability to feel attraction to more than one gender, which in itself brings completely specific experiences, dilemmas and joys. The problem is that society likes simple stories. Either-or. And everything in between is distracting.
And then there's another dimension - people's sexuality generally fascinates others more than it probably should. Once you break out of the norm, it becomes a topic that people take personally, evaluate, comment on. And bisexuality, in that sense, provokes precisely because it disrupts the idea of clearly defined boundaries.
Have you also encountered people sexualizing your sexuality more than you would like? That they reduce it to just sex?
That's almost a rule, actually. As soon as you say you're bisexual, a lot of people immediately imagine specific sexual scenarios. Like it's something that automatically means more promiscuity, more "willingness to try", more promiscuity. It's not related to that at all.
It's a bit paradoxical. When a heterosexual man says he's attracted to women, no one starts asking him about the details of his sex life. When a gay man says he's attracted to men, most people take that as fact these days. But with bisexuality, it still seems to boil down to some fantasy that often has nothing to do with reality.
For me, it's all about relationships, about connection, about emotions. Sex is just one part of it. But that's harder to explain than a simple, somewhat tabloid notion.
When you look back on it, what was the hardest thing for you - accepting yourself or the reaction of those around you?
Without hesitation, the reaction of the environment. Accepting myself was challenging, but it was something I had some control over. I could give myself time, I could think things through, I could allow myself to doubt and revisit things.
But the reactions of those around you are something you can't control. And most importantly, they often come unexpectedly, even from people you wouldn't expect. Sometimes you're more surprised by indifference than rejection. It's like it's not important that someone completely knocks it off the table.
I guess the hardest part has been maintaining confidence in what I feel, even when those around you suggest you shouldn't be.
Going back to the title sentence - why do you think your sexuality provokes so much?
Because it undermines the idea of certainty. People like things to make clear sense when they can place them. And bisexuality is uncomfortable in that way because it doesn't fulfill that need.
At the same time, I think it also reveals a certain insecurity in how society views sexuality in general. We still tend to see it as something fixed, immutable, unambiguous. And as soon as someone comes along who challenges that idea, it provokes a reaction.
But maybe that's a good thing. Because it's these "uncomfortable" stories that push the boundaries of what we consider normal. And while it can sometimes be challenging for individuals, in the long run it helps society be more open.
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Do you have a similar experience, or does the topic of sexuality, identity and relationships affect you personally? Contact me at simon@lui.cz. Your stories can remain anonymous.
