Welcome back to Archer’s queer advice series: Phone-a-Dyke.

Think of this as your very queer Agony Aunt column mixed with Dolly Doctor, but minus the questionable advice that’ll definitely give you a UTI.

Check out all episodes of Phone-a-Dyke here.

Got a question for the dykes to discuss? Submit it here.

Today’s Q:

Dear dykes,

Are you able to help with feelings of impostor syndrome experienced by a pansexual cis woman?

I have slept with a number of people who aren’t men, had crushes on multitudes more, but only had long-term relationships with men. I feel guilty identifying as queer! But I know I shouldn’t! Pls help.

– PanPride?

A:

Hello my new bestie,

Thank you for this very important – and actually very common – question. As a pansexual person myself, I know this feeling all too well.

I run queer parties for a living, and a huge portion of our community are bi+/pan babes. Two of the most common questions I hear are:

“Can I come if I’m bi but in a straight-appearing relationship?”
“Can I bring my partner if our relationship doesn’t look super queer from the outside?”

So, first things first: you are absolutely not alone.

It can help to remind ourselves that someone can be attracted to multiple genders and never act on those attractions – and they are still bi, pan or queer. Attraction is real and valid whether or not it’s reflected in your relationship history. And in saying that, even when we know that fact logically, impostor feelings definitely can still creep in like a sneaky little caterpillar.

Historically, I’ve dated people of many genders. At one point, I moved from lesbian-presenting relationships into a relationship with a trans man, and I remember feeling genuinely confused about what that meant for my identity and my place in the queer community – a strange thing to question, given that by then, I’d built a career that revolved around my sexuality.

I remember going to view a new venue with my partner for one of my queer parties, only for the owner to ask why I ran queer events if I was straight. That moment did nothing to help my growing impostor syndrome.

I worried about taking up space. About being read as straight. About whether I should still ethically be taking up space in queer communities at all. I had lesbian friends ask whether I was still a lesbian – and at the time, I didn’t yet have the language or role models to help me answer.

I was also hesitant to talk about these feelings with my partner, because I didn’t want to invalidate our relationship, or trigger classic stereotypes about bi people: that we’re confused, unfaithful or incapable of monogamy. I imagine these are anxieties many bi+/pan people carry regularly.

Looking back, I wish I’d spoken about those fears out loud sooner – with friends, with a therapist, and especially with other bi+/pan people. Naming the impostor syndrome didn’t make it bigger – it made it less powerful.

At the time, I was spending time across lesbian or het spaces, which unintentionally amplified my feeling of not fitting neatly anywhere. Finding bi+/pan community later was genuinely so life-changing.

There is something so deeply comforting about being around people who just get it – people who never question your legitimacy based on who you’re dating, so you can freely discuss all the wonderful and challenging aspects of this special sexuality.

If it feels helpful, you might consider seeking out bi+-centred spaces: online or in-person peer support groups, bi+/pan-focused community organisations, or creative projects that centre multi-gender attraction. Even listening to bi-affirming podcasts or media can help you feel less alone. Have you ever listened to The Queer Collective? A+ recommend.

Another totally optional (but fun!) strategy is wearing something that affirms your bi+/pan identity. Sometimes when I wear something loudly queer, I feel more connected to myself, and it also helps me find my people.

For me, that once meant a “Bi+ Pride” headpiece at a Mardi Gras party. For others, it might be jewellery, a badge or a tee. It’s also a great way to end up in deep, meaningful chats with other bi+ folks in the smokers’ corner at an after-after party – a hobby I have historically enjoyed immensely.

Learning about bi+ history has been deeply empowering for me. It reminds me of our rich, interconnected past – even in moments when we’ve had to fight hard against erasure and exclusion.

Did you know bi+ people weren’t always allowed to march in the Sydney Mardi Gras parade? In response, incredible activists like Michael Wynter created their own bi+ spaces in the early 2000s, building places where our community could be safe, visible and celebrated.

I find it deeply comforting to know we come from a long line of bi+ legends who refused to disappear. We’re all now connected through that history in the way queers so famously love to imagine ourselves: like a sprawling mycelium network, quietly linked beneath the surface, sharing resources, holding each other up and ensuring none of us grow alone.

Australian research led by bi+ researchers such as Julia Taylor has shown that bisexual people often feel they don’t fully belong in either straight or queer spaces, and that this ‘in-between’ experience can contribute to isolation and mental health distress. I share that not to discourage you, but to remind you: this feeling isn’t a personal failure, it’s structural.

Even now, I still experience impostor syndrome sometimes. I’m an AFAB person engaged to a woman, living in a pink house with my extremely gay partner and our cats, and occasionally my brain still whispers, What if I get busted for not being queer enough?

When that happens, I remind myself – and I want to remind you – that you don’t owe anyone a “queer enough” version of your life in order to be queer. There are no more – or less – valid ways to be bi, pan or queer.

We don’t owe the world a performance that makes our identities easier to recognise, categorise or consume.

We are also very lucky. We’re lucky to be born with a sexuality that allows us to walk into a room and feel possibility everywhere – to notice beauty, tenderness and desire in many forms. We’re lucky to move through the world knowing that our love is not scarce, but expansive.

Whether you marry a cis man and build a white picket fence life, or love people of many genders across your lifetime, you are still pansexual. You are still queer.

And our community is better, brighter – and very grateful – because you are part of it.

Sending you so much love!

– Your friendly neighbourhood pan bestie 💗 (aka Anonymous Dyke #11)

Header images: Florida Memory

Phone-a-Dyke is Archer’s queer advice column. Got a question you want answered? Submit it here.