Being a bi guy, I’m in a minority. This might sound obvious — I’m part of the LGBTQ+ community, so of course I’m part of a minority. But when you consider how many LGBTQ+ people specifically identify as bisexual men, we’re an even smaller group.
The percentage of people saying they’re bi has increased in recent decades. But just 1.6% of men in the US identified as biexternal link, opens in a new tab per research from 2024, compared to 3.7% of women. In the UK, where I am, just 1.1% of men identified as biexternal link, opens in a new tab in 2024, compared to 2% of women.
Because of this, it’s probably somewhat unsurprising that I’m almost always the only bi guy in the group, no matter who I’m hanging out with. Of course, I’m not the only bi guy in the world, so this experience isn’t unique to me, but it can still feel isolating. Navigating both straight and queer spaces can be tricky, and showing up as yourself can be difficult sometimes.
Not Fitting Into Either World
Take straight-majority spaces. It’s easy for people to forget I’m bi unless it’s explicitly mentioned. I have a girlfriend, and in some ways, I’m seen as no different from the straight men who also have female partners. In some ways, this is easier, and I’m aware that I have straight-passing privilege, but there’s still an aspect of me that feels as though it’s swept under the rug. Maybe it’s easier for other people to not think of me as queer, for example, family members. While I feel accepted by my family — I’m pretty much out to everyone, I think, and even more distant relatives have probably seen things I’ve shared on social media — I do wonder how some people would react if I brought a boyfriend to family functions, for example.
It’s okay to let people assume you’re straight if you’d like to — if you can’t be bothered to get into the details, or you aren’t sure how they’d react, and want an easier time. Or, if you’d like to correct them, or just drop in somewhere that you’re bi, that’s okay too. Both choices are valid, and it comes down to whatever you feel most comfortable with.
Sometimes, in straight-majority spaces, you might encounter homophobia or queerphobia from people who don’t know you’re bi, and this is when being bi can feel the loneliest. Or, when people know that you’re bi and your bisexuality is recognised, it can still be in the vein of “Are you sure you’re really bi?” or “I don’t mind that you’re bi as long as you don’t fancy me” — comments that, even if people don’t mean it, can feel dismissive or just plain rude.
As a white, cisgender bi guy, I recognize that I have a degree of privilege that certainly influences how I navigate most spaces, and I appreciate that other bi guys may experience additional challenges based on other factors, like race, gender identity, or disability, and our experiences of feeling invisible or lonely are all going to differ in some way. Even age; I’m in my mid-twenties, so I’ve seen bisexuality become more accepted and commonplace in real time. And, I’m in the UK, which isn’t perfect but is certainly one of the better countries in the world to be a bisexual man.
At the same time, I’m usually the only bi guy when I’m with queer friends, too, particularly when we go to queer spaces. As a result, I’m more aware that I might be perceived as straight. I feel like we’re sometimes seen by others (not our friends themselves) as being a straight couple taking up space. When I joined my girlfriend at Pride in our city, where she was representing her workplace, we were there both as a couple, but also as members of the LGBTQ+ community.
I understand why some queer people view people like me as straight. Where we live, there’s been a lot of discussion in recent months about increasing numbers of straight people in queer bars and clubs and the potential safety implications — the main concern being that straight women want to come, then bring their straight boyfriends, and then these venues would have bigger groups of straight men as a result. And I totally appreciate why many people are wary of straight people coming into these spaces — I am too.
But at the same time, I can’t avoid feeling somewhat trapped in the middle, sometimes feeling like I’m being perceived as “too queer” and other times as “not queer enough.” Despite being around people who I care about, and who I know care about me, it can sometimes leave me feeling like I don’t belong anywhere. It’s a real balancing act, wanting to be your authentic self while acknowledging that people may perceive or judge you one way or the other.
A big part of being bi is that you’re attracted to and may have relationships with people of different genders; relationships that some people may read as straight. Being bi shouldn’t make you less welcome in queer spaces, even if you’re there with your different-gender partner and other people may make assumptions — that’s on them.
The Pressure To Represent All Bi Guys
And, so often being the only bi guy in the group, I sometimes feel like I’m expected to be a spokesperson for all bi men. There’s pressure to avoid fitting the stereotypes about bi people, and you’ll sometimes get questions from others.
To be honest, I am usually happy to answer questions, but bi guys shouldn’t feel obliged to; it’s my choice to do so. After all, it’s invisible emotional labor. You might be expected to explain what bisexuality is, challenge stereotypes, or represent all bi men. But it’s okay to set boundaries, redirecting the conversation if it’d make you feel more comfortable. Learning when to protect and conserve your own energy is an important form of self-care, and setting boundaries doesn’t make you, your identity, or your experiences any less valid.
If you’re not in the mood to school people, you could practice saying things like, “That’s my experience — it can be different for other bi guys,” or, “Would you mind if we change the subject?”
Be as careful or as direct as you like. It’s up to you how best to manage situations like these. For one group, or during one get-together, you might feel happy to answer questions. In another group setting, you might not. It’s totally your choice.
It’s normal to feel frustrated or worn out by this, or even feel as if you want to conform or perform just to make life easier. That’s totally understandable, and it’s okay. You aren’t betraying your fellow bi guys, no matter what you decide on. We aren’t a monolith, and we’ll all react differently in these sorts of situations.
Finding Community and Owning Your Identity
And while it’s true that bi guys are a minority, both in and out of queer spaces, we do exist. If you don’t have any other bi guys in your social circle, you might be able to find more bi male friends. After all, if 1.6% of US men identify as bi, that’s still comfortably over two million guys.
You could look on apps like Meetup to find bi male friends or LGBTQ+ groups that welcome bi guys, keeping the usual safety recommendations in mind when meeting new people, or look online to see if there are any clubs or classes in your area. If there’s a queer book club or exercise class, for example, you might find more bi guys there. Of course, this will depend on where you live, and you might find more bi guys in a city than in a rural village or small town, but it’s worth looking.
You might also find a sense of community online, if there aren’t any other bi guys nearby. Online groups or communities may make you feel less alone if you’d like to speak to more bi men, though again, it’s important to stay safe and be mindful not to share any details or identifiable information you might be uncomfortable with. And, even if you’re the only bi guy in groups of queer friends, opening up to them may still be useful — although your experiences won’t be exactly the same, there are aspects you’ll have in common.
It’s true: being the only bi guy when you’re among friends and family can feel lonely, isolating, and frustrating. But you don’t have to perform a stereotype or perform the role of perfect bi guy for other people. The main thing to remember is that you’re you, and your sexuality is part of that. And while it shouldn’t necessarily have to, being the only bi guy in a group can teach you how to be more resilient, and how to advocate for yourself unashamedly.
Being perceived as straight can lead to some eye-opening moments, too. On occasion, you might hear people say things that perhaps they wouldn’t if they knew there was a bi person around. If you feel up to it, it gives you the opportunity to push back on their comments, even if you present as an ally rather than an actual bi guy as you do so. This reinforces the idea that there’s no safe space for biphobia and bigotry — and you never know, there might be another bi guy in the room who’s not out and really appreciates the support.
Remember: your loved ones want to spend time with you because they like you as a person, but it’s also human nature to want to find people in the same position as you — and there are ways to go about this if it’s something you’d like to explore.
