It’s been an exhausting few weeks for those of us chronically online enough to be following the JoJo Siwa/Chris Hughes drama.
To sum up for those who don’t eat, sleep, and breathe the former Dance Moms star’s life: JoJo went on Celebrity Big Brother and shared that she now identifies as queer, rather than a lesbian as she previously believed. This came alongside a very… intimate friendship with fellow contestant Chris Hughes—cuddling, whispered chats, and the word “soulmate” getting thrown around a lot.
After the show, Siwa ended her relationship with Kath Ebbs, an Australian non-binary content creator. What was initially framed as friendship with Hughes quickly escalated, culminating in a sleepy bedroom selfie that appeared to show them undressed under the covers. Before that, Siwa had already raised eyebrows by cheekily changing the lyrics “Bette Davis eyes” to “Chris Hughes’ eyes” mid-performance, flashing a mischievous grin.
“My relationships don’t have to fit into boxes others expect them to.”
Why does this matter? Because parasocial relationships keep us glued to celeb drama, and because it reflects something I’ve long experienced: society still struggles to grasp that bisexuality exists. The proof is in the pudding, aka the debate around Siwa’s sexuality, and now the outrage over papparazzi photos of Billie Eilish kissing Nat Wolff — a man!
(Note: Siwa and Eilish both identify as queer and have implied this includes attraction to multiple genders. I’ll be linking their experiences to the broader bisexual conversation, but feel free to sub in pansexual or queer as needed.)
(Note: JoJo identifies as queer and has implied this includes attraction to multiple genders. I’ll be linking her experience to the broader bisexual conversation, but feel free to sub in pansexual or queer as needed.)
Personally, I always knew I was bisexual. In fact, I sort of assumed everyone else was too. It wasn’t until I was sixteen that I realised not everyone felt the same. My friends either liked kissing drunk lads at parties, or, as one put it, only wanted to kiss drunk girls. Then there was me, with a finger in each honeypot.
I never really “came out” because, frankly, I never felt I deserved to. I wasn’t “queer enough,” I could still hide behind heteronormative relationships. I once went to a queer society meetup at uni, where I was dismissed as a straight girl looking to “experiment.” Another honeypot lover later introduced me to the delightful term “bi ‘til graduation.” I blended easily into straight circles, but I always felt like I was hiding a part of myself.
When I eventually started casually mentioning my interest in both men and women to friends, and later family, the reactions weren’t hostile, but they weren’t what I needed either. More than once, I heard, “It’s okay if you’re a lesbian,” or “You can just say if you only want women.”
I even started to question myself, especially during a long-term relationship where the spark had gone. Had I only ever liked women and been misled by societal expectations? But no, I can confirm I still fancy men, women, and non-binary folks. Gimme all of them.
While my loved ones meant well, their reactions didn’t help to undo heterosexual conditioning; they simply reinforced the binary: I could be straight, or I could be gay, but I couldn’t be both. I couldn’t be neither.
As Julia Shaw wrote in Bi: The Hidden Culture, History, and Science of Bisexuality, “A way that bisexual researchers often talk about this is that the bi in bisexual means two, but the two are not men and women, they are same and other.” It’s not about a strict binary between men and women—and yes, that absolutely includes trans individuals, non-binary people, and anyone else fabulous enough to date me.
Yet society still seems to find it easier to label someone as lesbian or gay, rather than bisexual, pansexual, or simply queer. Shaw also wrote, “People who are bisexual experience double discrimination. This means that people experience biphobia not just from the heterosexual community but also from members of the queer community.”
Eilish didn’t intend to come out, and actually called out those who had forced her hand. "Thanks Variety for my award and also outing me on a red carpet at 11am instead of talking to me about anything else that matters," she wrote in an Instagram post. "I like boys and girls leave me alone about it please literally who cares."
The queer community quickly devoured her subsequent single, “Lunch,” where she sang explicitly about going down on a woman—yeah, I most certainly had that song on repeat. This popularity was cemented by a cheeky Coachella kiss with internet star Quenlin Blackwell. The LGBTQ community eagerly welcomed Eilish into their fold.
Then, in June 2025, rainbow-coloured tragedy struck: photos were released of Eilish kissing Wolff, half of the popular brother duo. The internet lost their damn minds, with comments like “doing this during pride month too” and “I’m done defending her.” One even directly linked the singer to the Dance Moms star, saying, “Oh the jojofication of billie needs to be studied.” She was accused of “queerbaiting” by fans.
X content
Eilish didn’t queerbait anyone. She came out as being interested in “boys and girls,” and everyone preferred focusing on the latter. Her sexuality didn’t change, it isn’t an affront to lesbians, and it is relevant in Pride Month as she is still a part of the spectrum.
The idea of coming out as bisexual being offensive during Pride Month was a theme raised for Fletcher as well. The popular singer released “Boy” off her upcoming album, which revealed her relationship with a man and fear of sharing this with her predominantly queer fanbase. Safe to say…people are furious. They feel she made a career off of queer women as a marketing ploy…sorry, what? Is that truly easier to believe than that a person may be sexually attracted to multiple genders? People are mocking Fletcher’s fear of coming out as bisexual, but it seems pretty accurate given the immense backlash she is now receiving. For the record, Fletcher never called herself a lesbian, when previously asked she elusively said “I just exist” and “It’s about energy,” before saying “queer” would be a better term for her. This ain’t news, and it ain’t a personal crime. The real crime is making assumptions about other people’s sexuality for them.
Take the “Gaylor” conspiracy. For the record, I don’t support speculating about someone’s sexuality online; whether it’s claiming they’re not “really” queer or not “really” straight. But the Gaylor theory—essentially, the idea that Taylor Swift is secretly a lesbian who had a life-changing relationship with Karlie Kloss—raises an interesting question: why are the options always straight or gay? Swift has spent decades writing emotionally devastating love songs about men and dating them publicly. If anything, wouldn’t the conversation be about whether she’s bisexual or straight?
No wrong turns, just good vibes
Harry Styles has long been caught in the “Is he straight or gay?” conversation, with barely any room for terms like bisexual or queer. When Sophia Bush began dating footballer Ashlyn Harris, headlines immediately labelled her a lesbian. Stacy Snyder from Love Is Blind Season 5 shared news of her sapphic relationship last year and was met with the tired assumption that she’d been “turned” or had sworn off men, despite clarifying she’d discussed her bisexuality with ex-fiancé Izzy long before the breakup.
The moment a celeb dates someone of the same gender, we jump to, “I didn’t know they were gay,” never pausing to consider they might like more than one gender.
As soon as Siwa hinted that she might be attracted to more than just women, discourse about Hughes “turning her” exploded online. Few people seemed fazed by the emotional cheating; what mattered most was that she had been “returned” to heterosexuality.
When I spoke to Siwa’s ex, Ebbs for an exclusive interview feature, they said something that really stuck with me: “I don’t know, I could be wrong, but my reflection for people is—is it because that person was in a sapphic relationship that you don’t see it having the same validity as a heterosexual, straight couple?”
Siwa’s expressed attraction to multiple genders, yet people are desperate to see her in a heterosexual partnership. The narrative? That she’s somehow “left” the LGBTQIA+ community. But she hasn’t. Billie hasn’t. Fletcher hasn’t. I haven’t. We haven’t. Bisexuals are still here, proudly representing that sexy B in third place, and Queers right there with them.
We need to accept that sexuality isn’t a line—it’s a Venn diagram. Bi, pan, queer folks exist in the overlaps. When someone mentions dating a same-sex partner, don’t default to “lesbian” or “gay.” Leave space for nuance. When I say I went on a date with a woman or pop a rainbow in my profile, don’t assume I’ve sworn off men. Bisexuality isn’t an offense to Pride, it’s part of the damn celebration.
Even now when I’m dating a very lovely man, and Siwa is doing whatever she’s doing with Hughes, we’re still queer. We’re still not straight. We’re not lesbians. We’re setting up shop in the middle of the Venn diagram—for life.
For Lesbian Visibility Week, Roxy Bourdillon reflects on her experience at a queer sex club.
