By Cathy Renna
Over the years I have had countless people ask me how and why I am such an ally to our bisexual siblings. In fact, being so vocal has prompted countless questions from others about my own identity. I take these as a compliment and as a sign that my allyship is visible, impactful, and convincing.
Having done LGBTQ+ advocacy work for decades, primarily focusing on visibility and representation as a means to educate and advocate, the bisexual community remains, in many ways, the least visible part of our LGBTQ+ world. It’s frustrating to see that, still, “the call is coming from inside the house.” Our own LGBTQ+ community needs to be a place where we do bi+ advocacy and work for visibility, particularly as a younger generation of people is coming up with a much more open-minded, fluid, and realistic sense of their own identities and the identities of others.
This is not something new for me either—allyship for bi and trans folks has been in my DNA from the beginning. One of the first “big things” I worked on in the early 1990’s with GLAAD (then Gay & Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation) was the release of the film Basic Instinct, which had three bisexual characters—all murderers. Protests were held across the country and in Washington, D.C. We were picketing and protesting, but we also handed educational flyers to the folks in line and I did a lot of media about the bisexual tropes in the film. It was a watershed moment and started many conversations.
But as I like to say, “ally is a verb” and my actions are integrated into my work on the daily. It can be as “simple” as speaking up in meetings where issues and strategies are discussed and bi folks are not brought up or included, in messaging that ignores the diversity of sexual orientation, or simply not putting the bi+ folks in the room (including our bi+ Task Force President Kierra Johnson) on the spot all the time to hold others accountable.
So, when people ask me why I’m an ally, my response is usually “How can I not be?”—followed by the invariable messaging that I utilize that includes words like science, reality, common sense, not being afraid of difference, and more.
As an ally, I find it very discouraging that we continue to see a complete lack of willingness to open hearts and minds and understand that sexual orientation—like every other human trait—can be incredibly diverse and fall along a spectrum.
As an adjunct professor teaching a course on media advocacy and LGBTQ issues, it’s heartbreaking to hear students who identify as bisexual telling me they get the same dumb questions I’ve been hearing about forever. There is a lot of work to do—for all of us—but especially for those of us who have a platform, access, and power, particularly in areas of visibility and media. We should all be advocating that our organizations and media tell more stories and dispel myths and stereotypes about our bisexual siblings.
At the end of the day, the most important thing all of us can do is help amplify and tell the stories of real people whose lived experience will help others understand the diversity of our community and, frankly, the reality of the human sexual experience.
Of course, to do that we need to get past the many issues that create barriers, particularly in American culture, one that uses sex to sell everything but is so ashamed to talk about sexuality in a realistic way.
I continue to think that one of the biggest challenges, and in some ways mistakes, of the LGBTQ movement has been the complete de-sexualization of the conversation. Sure, we don’t want to be one dimensional, but the reality is that what brings our community together is something that has nothing to do with the other aspects of our lives, age, race, class, geography, ability, and so much more. What sets us apart is who we are attracted to and how we identify.
And I will continue to speak out in my capacity as an advocate and also work with my movement colleagues to encourage the kind of work that will make bisexual people more visible, better understood, and in the end, less abstract and more real.
Cathy Renna is a veteran in the communications industry and currently serves as the Communications Director at the National LGBTQ Task Force, a position she has held since 2021. Since her time at GLAAD in the 1990s and early aughts, Cathy has executed her particular expertise in crisis and strategic communications, playing a central role in shaping nearly all major issues affecting the LGBTQ+ community, from the beating death of Matthew Shepard in 1998 to the fight for marriage equality and the repeal of “Don’t Ask Don’t Tell.” She worked with the team that coordinated historic coverage for World Pride/Stonewall 50, working with NYC Pride. In 2020, she was part of the team that organized the historic Global Pride, a 26-hour virtual event that was viewed by 57 million people around the Globe. Cathy lives in New Jersey, in the U.S.
Featured image: Robyn Ochs and Cathy Renna, 2020