The Truth About Bisexuality: Attraction Isn’t a Phase

By Linda Athanasiadou
When I first came out as bisexual, I didn’t expect that one of the hardest parts would be having to constantly explain myself—not just once, but again and again. I assumed most of the judgment or confusion would come from outside my community—from people I barely knew, from coworkers, from strangers online. But to my surprise, some of the most dismissive, minimizing comments came from the people I was closest to: good friends, partners, family members. I heard things like, “It’s just a phase,” or “Everyone experiments at some point,” or worse—complete silence, as if my identity didn’t even deserve acknowledgment. And what stung the most was that even in LGBTQ+ spaces, I often felt like I had to prove myself.
Here’s what I’ve come to understand over the years: attraction isn’t a phase. It never was, and it never will be.
Bisexuality, by definition, is the capacity to feel romantic and/or sexual attraction to more than one gender—not necessarily all genders, and not necessarily in equal intensity or frequency. It’s a broad, fluid, and deeply personal identity. But so often, people try to define it by rigid terms or stereotypes. Many still think bisexual people are just “confused,” “experimenting,” or “transitioning” to being gay or straight. These ideas are not only outdated—they’re harmful.
Despite progress in public awareness by 2025, there’s still a serious misunderstanding about bisexuality. According to The Trevor Project’s 2025 National Survey, more than 75% of bisexual youth reported feeling invisible or misunderstood—even within LGBTQ+ communities. That sense of being unseen or misrepresented can erode a person’s confidence and mental well-being. It sends the message that you don’t fully belong anywhere.
And it’s not just about feelings—it’s about facts. Bisexual people face unique and often severe challenges. According to a 2024 study by the Williams Institute at UCLA, bisexual women experience significantly higher rates of intimate partner violence compared to heterosexual and lesbian women. Bisexual individuals also report higher rates of poverty, workplace discrimination, and mental health issues. In particular, bisexual adults are more likely to experience anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts than both heterosexual and gay/lesbian individuals. This isn’t coincidental—it’s the result of a society that continues to question, stereotype, and erase us.
I’ve experienced this erasure firsthand. Throughout my life, people have questioned my identity based solely on the gender of my current partner. If I dated a man, I was “basically straight.” If I dated a woman, I was “finally gay.” There was rarely room to simply be bisexual. Some people sexualized my identity, assuming it made me “more fun” or “open.” Others treated it like a phase I’d grow out of. Rarely did someone just say, “I believe you.”
But none of those reactions changed the truth of who I am. My attraction to more than one gender has never been conditional. It’s always been part of me. And whether or not other people understand it, question it, or try to invalidate it, that reality doesn’t change.
Being bisexual is not about who I’m dating in any given moment—it’s about how I move through the world. My identity doesn’t shift depending on who I’m with. Attraction is not behavior, and who I choose to love doesn’t cancel out anyone I’ve loved before. The assumption that bisexual people are just in-between something else ignores the legitimacy of our experience.
And yes, like any identity, bisexuality can evolve. People grow. They discover new parts of themselves. But change is not confusion—it’s reflection. Exploration. Expansion. The idea that bisexuality must be temporary or immature comes from a cultural discomfort with ambiguity. People want neat categories. But real life—and real love—is rarely that simple.
It took me time to let go of the idea that I had to convince others. I don’t need to show a list of partners as evidence. I don’t need to perform my queerness in a way that satisfies someone else’s expectations. What I owe is honesty—to myself. What I deserve is space—to exist fully, without interrogation.
If you’ve ever felt pressured to explain or justify your bisexuality, please hear this: you are not alone. You don’t need to be “queer enough.” You don’t need a perfect label or a fixed narrative. Your identity is yours. Your attraction is real. And it deserves respect.
Every time we share our stories, speak our truths, and hold space for one another, we chip away at the stereotypes and stigma that have been built up around us. We remind people that bisexuality is not a phase. It’s a valid, beautiful, and expansive way to move through the world.
If this resonates with you, I encourage you to read my piece, “Embracing Our Authentic Selves: A Journey of Self-Knowledge and Community Support.”https://medium.com/@athanasiadoulinda/embracing-our-authentic-selves-a-journey-of-self-knowledge-and-community-support-part-1-9270c33dd704 Because the more we talk about who we are, the more room we make—for ourselves, and for everyone else still trying to find that space.