Eliyahou (Elias) Farajaje was an out, proud black gay man - had been since he was 16 years old. But one day he looked up and found himself in a long-term relationship with a woman. That woman was an equally out, proud black lesbian. In fact, gay activism was one of the passions they shared. For a while - certain no one would understand, and not entirely sure they got it themselves - the pair hid their relationship from friends and colleagues. But, ultimately, they both decided to come out as "gay-identified bisexuals." To many people, gay or straight, that would probably just make things more confusing. But Farajaje argues many of those who would be confused by it have lived, or are living, his same reality; they just aren't willing to embrace it.

"When I came out, everybody kind of gave me their closet bi story," says Farajaje, a professor of cultural studies at Starr King School for the Ministry in Berkeley, California. "I found out all of these kind of queer boundaries that I struggled to maintain just weren't there. There's a lot more of us out there than people are wanting to acknowledge."

This article originally appeared in Venus Magazine. Venus is full of eye-opening articles about politics, academics, theater, fashion, and the lifestyles of black gay men and lesbians.... subscribe now

But, as Farajaje and other bisexual-identified activists concede, that assertion begs the question of who is "us"? What does it mean to be bisexual and black? It's a question for which there appears to be no universally accepted answer. Nevertheless, most people have strong preconceptions about bisexuality in a black context. For some in the black gay community, to be bisexual is to be closeted. For many in the larger black community, it summons images of everything from exotic women to dangerously deceptive boyfriends and husbands. And for many in both, it's just a gentler way of saying homosexual.    

"People use the word bisexual in a lot of different ways. So it's created all of this sort of negativity around the term," Farajaje sighs. "It's so heavily charged." Shanté T. Smalls says she's experienced those preconceptions most profoundly within the gay community rather than among straight people. Smalls, who identifies as bisexual, is dating another bisexual woman now. For the most part, people have no problem with their relationship. As long as she's dating a woman, she says, people don't care what she identifies herself as.

But a year ago she was in a relationship with a bisexual man. And, although she is a gay activist, and worked at New York City's Lesbian and Gay Community Center at the time, the reception the couple received within the community was icy at best.

What do you think of this article? Share your thoughts about bisexuality on our Bisexual Message Board.

"The only way I can put it is we got a lot of shit," complains Smalls, who now works on people of color issues for Amnesty International's LGBT project. "People were saying, 'You're bringing your heterosexual energy to this.' I felt like I was being policed."

Suddenly, people couldn't understand what it meant for her to be bisexual and dating a man. Didn't she want to sleep with women still? "I would say, 'Well, we're having a monogamous relationship. What does that mean for you?'" Kevin McGruder, director of New York City's Gay Men of African Descent, says the confusion about and reluctance to embrace bisexual people, particularly among black gay men, stems largely from a popular confluence of bisexuals with men who are married or otherwise straight-identified but dating men "on the down low." He said his group has had trouble reaching out to bisexual black men because of this confusion.

"That's a real challenge, because in the gay community some people resent bisexual people," McGruder explains, adding that bisexuals are seen as would-be gays who are clinging to heterosexual privilege. "They're considered just closeted, or they're trying to perpetrate."

Smalls says she has seen much of the same attitude among women. She recalled several occasions when she met a woman who she considered dating, but who rejected her after discovering she is bisexual. Those women, Smalls explains, previously had negative experiences dating women who were simultaneously involved with men as well. "I tell them, you need to think about who you get involved with, not how they identify themselves," she says. "You're choosing to be involved with someone who is already involved."

The alienation of bisexual people has deepened in recent years. Men who operate "on the down low" have been increasingly demonized in both the gay and straight black community as public health officials have determined them to be a high risk group for contracting HIV - and for subsequently infecting both their male and female sexual partners.

But McGruder and Farajaje agree that many of these closeted men, whether they be potentially gay or potentially bisexual, are provided too many compelling reasons by the gay community to remain in hiding. McGruder argues that the black gay community needs to do more to create an environment of support for people questioning their sexual identity.

"If we are criticizing men who are married and dealing with men, what are we offering?" he asks. "We have to acknowledge that we have work to do in terms of creating an environment where people feel they can grow, be in supportive relationships and be supported by their community." Moreover, he adds, those who have in fact come to consider themselves bisexual are similarly encouraged to maintain a straight public persona. "I think people are ambivalent about identifying themselves in that way because they get criticism from gay and lesbian people and from heterosexual people." Which is why, Farajaje hastens to point out, just as many bisexual people live in gay closets, as he once did. "There's an erasure of bisexual people that goes on," he says. "A lot of people will go to events and simply pass as lesbian or gay." And, he adds, the notion that he is clinging to heterosexual privilege is ridiculous given the way the black community understands bisexuality. He argues that bi people are either dismissed as gay or looked upon as deceptive and promiscuous. Smalls notes that when she came out as bisexual to her parents, they told her they would prefer she be gay. "They think that it means I'm a slut," she explains.

Kai Wright Kai Wright is a DC-based freelance journalist who writes often about sexuality, health and gender in African American and African communities. Visit Kai at www.kaiwright.com.

Both believe the real issue is deeper than any given sexual identity. Rather, they say, the gay and straight black community's difficulty understanding and accepting bisexual people is part of the community's larger trouble with having active discussions about sexuality.

"We don't really give ourselves an opportunity to explore sexuality. We just take on what's assigned to us," Smalls argues, pointing to the hyper-masculine aesthetic of the black male. "We've been so sexualized as a people that we don't feel comfortable articulating sexuality." But many black lesbians and gay people feel that is exactly why it's important for them to develop explicitly gay identities and challenge the larger community to consider their worth. Weaving in a bisexual identity only complicates the matter. And, some argue, it is ultimately up to bisexual people to similarly develop and vocalize their own explicit identity.

A number of black gay male activists have recently been meeting to come up with a national strategy and vehicle for articulating such a gay male identity within the black community, and thereby drawing attention to the challenges and issues they face. Earl Fowlkes, a lead organizer of Washington, D.C.'s Black Pride festival, is among that group. He says the group discussed whether to include advocacy for bisexual men or "men who have sex with men" - as public health officials have termed men who identify as straight but still engage in sex with other men.

"We made a specific decision to continue to go as a gay black consortium," Fowlkes says. "Black gay men don't have a voice, so I can certainly appreciate the disillusionment the bisexual community feels. But part of that is they have to put their issues up front."

In her work for Amnesty International's OutFront program, where she assesses activism gaps Amnesty can fill in gay communities of color, Smalls has been looking for an outlet to build just this sort of bisexual advocacy and visibility. She's found little so far. However, she notes, her office hopes to eventually ally with organizations such as the National Latino/a Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Organization, which is actively involved in bi-advocacy, and Bi-Network, which is cultivating a people of color caucus.

But on a more personal level, she stresses, both gay and straight black people are going to have to learn that there's more to the world of sexuality than they're willing to understand today. And until they become accepting of that idea, there's always going to be tension.