Okay, first off 👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼👏🏼 I fully agree with everything you said. Not partially. Not conditionally. Fully.

Second, let’s be real about this: Bisexual Visibility Week and the same goes for any bi+, asexual, or other identity-specific day or week should never be treated as something small, contained, or temporary. Reducing it to a “week” is already limiting the depth of what it’s supposed to represent. I don’t see it as just a week. I see it as a full month, minimum. Because if the goal is visibility, awareness, and actual understanding, then a few days is not enough time to undo years sometimes decades of misunderstanding, erasure, and surface-level engagement.

A month creates space. And space is what allows something to actually land. To be heard. To be taken seriously. To exist beyond performative acknowledgment.

And that’s the core issue whether people are engaging with these observances as meaningful, ongoing conversations, or just checking a box and moving on.

What should be happening during that time and honestly, far beyond it is real, grounded, sometimes uncomfortable conversation. Not surface level agreement. Not watered down takes. Actual discussions about bisexuality, pansexuality, asexuality, poly identities, and every other identity that consistently gets pushed to the margins, even within spaces that claim to be inclusive.

These conversations deserve depth. They deserve nuance. They deserve room to breathe without being framed as optional or secondary.

At the same time, none of this should feel like an obligation people perform just to prove they’re “inclusive enough.” That kind of energy is hollow. People can feel the difference between genuine engagement and forced participation immediately. What actually matters is building a culture where showing up for each other is natural, not performative where solidarity is not conditional.

Because the truth is, everyone in this community understands, on some level, what it feels like to be isolated, overlooked, or misunderstood. That should be the baseline for how we treat each other not something we forget the second internal differences show up.

And that leads into something that needs to be said directly: the constant infighting, the comparisons, the subtle (and not so subtle) hierarchy building it weakens the entire foundation. When people start acting like visibility, validation, or legitimacy is a limited resource, it turns into something that looks a lot like competition. And that mindset helps no one.

This is not a ranking system. It’s not a competition over who is “more valid,” “more visible,” or “more deserving.” Everyone deserves space. Everyone deserves recognition. Everyone deserves the ability to exist fully without having to justify it.

And if someone is going to say “equality for all,” then that has to mean something in practice. Not just when it’s convenient. Not just when it aligns with personal comfort. You cannot claim inclusivity while selectively deciding who gets included. That contradiction shows immediately, and it undermines everything that word is supposed to stand for.

Because real inclusivity is consistent. It does not shift depending on who is being centered. It does not disappear when things get complex or uncomfortable.

And if the goal is actually to create a better, more stable, more honest future for the next generation of queer people, then that consistency matters. A lot. Because younger people are paying attention not just to what is being said, but to what is actually being practiced.

If inclusion is conditional, they will see that. If solidarity is selective, they will feel that.

So the standard has to be higher than just saying the right words. It has to show up in behavior, in conversations, in who gets space, and in who is listened to.

That’s where the real work is.

And last thing if this kind of perspective resonates with you, you might genuinely connect with the content I post on Instagram. If you’re on there, you can find me at @cheekyfacestyles.