Bisexuality is real. Black Bisexual men exist. Andrew Gillum happens to be one of those men. Those are the facts. It is also a fact that the lives of Black bisexual men are rarely told by the individuals with the most lived experience with this particular sexual orientation. More often than not, the narrative is shaped by those on the outside looking in who project an obvious disdain for differences in any human being that cannot be contained to an easily identifiable and respectable box. This has been seen in the fallout surrounding Gillum’s decision to reveal his bisexuality for the first time on The Tamron Hall Show. 

The circumstances surrounding the former Tallahassee, Florida mayor and one-time gubernatorial candidate that prompted him to invite the public into one of the most private areas of his life, has provided ammunition for his critics, unrelenting resolve for his supporters, and has unleashed a barrage of biphobic language and attacks on social media. All of it resulting in the lives of Black bisexual men being caught in the crossfire without the cushion of Gillum’s wealth, access, political connections, or bully pulpit to shape the conversation. 

The Reckoning is providing a platform to three openly bisexual Black men to amplify their truth and to take control of a narrative that has historically been steeped in misinformation and bias, and told by everyone but the men who live it. 

Atlanta resident Khafre Kujichagulia Abif, 54, is one of those men. A librarian, archivist, and openly bisexual HIV/AIDS activist who has been married to his wife for 20 years, and is also open about living with HIV, tells The Reckoning that the “vile and vicious things that were hurled at bisexuals on Facebook and Twitter [in recent days] are what triggered me.” 

“If I tell you who I am, believe it instead of trying to redefine who I am,” said Abif. “If I tell you I’m bisexual and you’re gonna tell me, ‘no, you slept with a man, you’re gay.’ That vile rejection of bisexuality for me led to a very unhappy life mentally and emotionally until I got into therapy.” 

If you scroll down any social media newsfeed and land on an article or discussion thread involving Gillum or bisexuality, you’re certain to find a myriad of comments debating its validity or whether or not this particular sexual orientation is being claimed by Black men due to it being more palatable to those in the straight Black community. It’s a line of thinking that Fred, 32, a bisexual Washington D.C. resident and federal employee for The Department of Treasury, who asked only to be referred to by his first name, says is “ignorant and offensive.”

“It undermines somebody’s journey and somebody’s life…something somebody knows about themselves. You don’t know somebody’s story. And on top of that, sexuality is a spectrum,” he said. 

“If somebody identifies as bisexual they know the shit that is going to come to them,” said Abif. “Nobody stands in that space on the way to being gay.” 

The realization that identifying openly as a bisexual Black man will often be met with misconceptions and sometimes outright hostility is a fact that bisexuals are forced to contend with every day, which can ultimately influence their decision to share the truth about their sexual orientation with others or to remain closeted, oftentimes to the detriment of their mental health and relationships. 

“Lack of empathy and support, combined with a failure to comprehend bisexuality, leaves bisexual Black men in an uncomfortable position,” writes Raymond Williams for The Black Youth Project. “This correlates with a rise of stress-related disorders. Studies suggest that Black bisexual men experience more health disparities than their gay counterparts. This includes higher rates of depression, anxiety, PTSD, and physical assault, among other things.”

Finding safety in the embrace of Black women 

For Fred, who says he was always aware of his attraction to both sexes, but in his mind, he knew that he couldn’t “let them see this part of me because it’s not acceptable,” echoes the messaging that G. Allen, 35, a Columbus, Georgia native now residing in Atlanta and working as an HIV/AIDS Outreach Coordinator, says he internalized about bisexuality as a pre-teen growing up in his conservative, church-going, Seventh-Day Adventist family. 

At the time when I told them [about my bisexuality], it wasn’t like, ‘ooh I’m coming out,” said Allen. “It was more so, hey y’all pray for me. I’m a church kid (laughter). Pray for me cause this is what’s going on. This is natural for me and if this is going to change I need help.”

But it wasn’t only from straight Black folks and the conservative Black church community that these men say they faced hostility because of their sexual orientation, according to Fred and Allen, gay men were often just as uninformed and hostile about their bisexuality as straight people could be. 

“I knew I wasn’t just gay, but at the same time, I knew I wasn’t DL either. So it was always this balance…I don’t want to be DL, but at the same time, I don’t feel I 100% assimilate with gay men,” he said. “And then on top of that, when you tell gay men that you’re bisexual they don’t take you seriously or they down play it and act like you’re really a closeted gay man. It’s really frustrating.” 

“If they [Black men] have a reservation for some reason it’s because they feel like they may fall short as it pertains to their physical adequacy; that I may need something else, when in fact, that’s not really what that means when it comes to being bisexual,” said Allen. 

Both men say they found safety and acceptance as bisexual men in their romantic relationships with Black women, which completely undermines the pervasive myth that when informed of their partner’s bisexual identity that Black women are less likely to pursue a romantic relationship. 

Fred tells The Reckoning about an experience he had with a college girlfriend during undergrad at an Alabama HBCU: “I told her straight up that I was bisexual and it didn’t stop anything from happening,” he said. “It was actually an amazing experience because I’d never felt so free and open with anybody, to be honest. It wasn’t until I had somebody like that to truly affirm and accept me completely that I really was like, this feels good, this feels natural.” 

Allen says he doesn’t wait to inform potential dates of his sexual orientation, preferring to get it out in the open early and to set the tone for honest communication, which he says the Black women he’s dated have responded positively to. 

Being in a committed monogamous relationship as a bisexual Black man with a Black woman that has produced two children is something Abif has navigated successfully for over 20 years. His marriage directly challenges the widely held misconception that bisexual men are incapable of commitment. 

“She knows I’m still attracted to men,” said Abif. “Honesty is the biggest thing; being transparent. It was on our fourth date where we sat down and told each other that we had some things to tell each other. And when I sat her down, I told her that I’m bisexual and I’m living with HIV. Those are things that I told her out the gate and she received it.”

Conflating The Down Low and Bisexuality 

Promoted in 2004 as the media moment that blew the lid off the down-low, a conversation between author J.L. King (On The Down Low) and media mogul Oprah Winfrey served to further divide an already fractured relationship between Black men and women and fueled the narrative that irresponsible sexual behavior amongst Black DL and bisexual men were the cause of an increase in new HIV infections among Black women. 

Dr. LaShonda Spencer, an infectious disease specialist at MCA Clinic at Los Angeles County-USC Medical Center, says “studies have shown that these men actually only account for a rather small percentage of HIV infection in the African-American community. By far, the majority of women are getting infected by men who are heterosexual and either unaware of their HIV status, have multiple partners, are using injection drugs or engaging in other high-risk behaviors.”

In the 16 years since the J.L. King episode originally aired, which can now be considered a precursor to the current conversation surrounding Gillum, the myth persists, despite being debunked by researchers and medical professionals. 

“I think men who identify as bisexual are more often likely to use condoms than people who are on the down-low,” says Abif. “I say that only because you have to have an actual internal conversation with yourself and acknowledge that I’m about to have sex with a man and I need to protect myself by using a condom. A lot of men who are “hiding” may not have the wherewithal to do that.” 

With very few safe spaces where Black bisexual or men who have sex with men can show up as their authentic selves absent of judgment, Allen says society has groomed people to live on the DL. “And it’s not just a Black thing, especially in the South. It’s an everybody thing when it comes to Southern culture. You find DL White men, and oftentimes when we talk about DL men we paint them as Black men only, when in fact they vary.”

Allen says he’d like to remind people that “we’re not all DL, we’re not all hiding, but we also have to recognize that it’s not always safe for us to speak up. Where there’s ignorance there’s fear.”