— My favorite definition for bisexuality so far is the one popularized by (the wonderful) bisexual activist Robyn Ochs. Ochs says, “I call myself bisexual because I acknowledge that I have in myself the potential to be attracted—romantically and/or sexually—to people of more than one sex, and/or gender, not necessarily at the same time, not necessarily in the same way, and not necessarily to the same degree.”
This is by far the broadest and most enabling definition of bisexuality that I’ve found to date. Its strength is in the way it enables anyone who wants to identify as bisexual to do so. (In other words, it reassures people.)
In a world in which bisexuality is usually very narrowly defined, many people who experience bisexual desire, and want to identify as bi, often feel afraid to start (or keep) identifying as such, as they feel as though they “don’t qualify.” The role that an enabling definition for bisexuality can fulfill to counter these feelings of internalized biphobia is invaluable—and I feel that Ochs’s definition does just that. It reassures people that they are “allowed” to identify as bisexual if they wish to do so.
The story’s been told time and again that Vampire Weekend were once just four guys bouncing around Columbia University making music before they hit it big. While at Columbia, frontman Ezra Koenig was an English and Creative Writing major and contributed to on-campus publications.
A 2006 edition of Quarto, the undergraduate literary magazine of the university’s creative writing department, was recently unearthed. In it, you can find a five-paragraph short story called “Off the Grid” by Koenig, then a college senior. It deals with themes familiar to any Vampire Weekend fan: love, New York, finding your place in the world. Also, his contributor’s bio is as prescient as prescient gets:
Ezra Koenig is a senior English and Creative Writing major. He enjoys writing short prose pieces and pop songs, especially about post-hippie domesticity and the tenuous connection between preppiness and colonialism.
— When a Vassar girl takes a shine to another, she straightway enters upon a regular course of bouquet sendings, interspersed with tinted notes, mysterious packages of “Ridley’s Mixed Candies,” locks of hair perhaps, and many other tender tokens, until at last the object of her attentions is captured, the two women become inseparable, and the aggressor is considered by her circle of acquaintances as — smashed.