Robyn Ochs

3.75 Stars. I really wanted to love this book. After many years of having it recommended to me and even recommending it to others in my professional work, I thought it was a given that it would resonate with me the way it resonated with others. To say I was disappointed when it didn’t is a huge understatement.

I did not expect to struggle as much as I did with the inconsistent skill level of the many different writers or with language and assertions that felt outdated when compared to show more modern bi+ organizing. I didn’t expect to feel so emotionally distant from so many of the narratives.

But, although I didn’t love this book, by the end, I came to respect it immensely.

I have often said that my favorite thing about the bisexual+ community is how multiplicitous we are. Our entire community is maintained not by pigeonholing ourselves into one finite definition and experience but by creating space for multiple definitions and experiences to coexist simultaneously across and sometimes even within individual stories. This book is one of the best examples of our multifaceted nature.

By showcasing a mix of overlapping and contradicting narratives, the editors reinforced repeatedly that there is not one way to be bisexual or to think about bisexuality. They also provided a historical snapshot of how people were experiencing or thinking about bisexuality during the mid-to-late 2000s, combatting any arguments that seek to erase the existence of bisexual people around the world during that time.

While I may not have needed the messages of this book at this point in my bisexual journey, I know that the closeted teen I was when it was first published did. I know that the movement that has progressed in so many ways over the past 20 years, partially because of this book, did. I know there are likely individuals across the globe who need these messages still.

For those reasons, I am grateful I stuck with this bi+ classic until the end and grateful that it exists. show less