Maternal Influences and Cultural Reflections

I saw an interview with NFL Player R.K. Russell on the Tamron Hall Show last summer discussing his new book, The Yards Between Us. R.K. spoke about his journey of coming to terms with his bisexuality in the NFL and emphasized his mother’s supportive role, who he described as his best friend. I had heard R.K.’s story before, but how he described his mother struck a chord with me. And, it wasn’t a chord of relatability; rather, it was one of grief.

Hearing R.K. Russel describe his black mother as a champion, cheerleader, and protector of him and his decision to share a truth that many black men wouldn’t dare inspired a sense of awe in me and, simultaneously, a sense of emptiness. It sent me down a rabbit hole, wondering what my life would be like if I had a champion.

It made me wonder how mothers’ attitudes and behaviors toward bisexuality, homosexuality, effeminate men, freedom of expression, and identity can influence their sons’ dynamics with intimate relationships, but specifically with women. I also pondered the myriad of experiences black mothers navigate that I’m not privy to.

I grew up in a highly religious household. I spent K-12 in a private Christian school and was dragged, yes dragged, to Wednesday night Bible study, Sunday school, church service, and sometimes the ‘P.M.’ service.

As I tell this story, I want to ensure my tone is not accusatory or perceived as an unfair critique but rather represents inquiry and self-discovery. My upbringing did have many joyous moments. It was stable, I had everything I physically needed, and I got to travel the world because of my parent’s interests.

How do mothers, navigating their own societal and cultural challenges and personal histories, perceive and react to their sons’ potential non-heteronormative experiences and identities?

My curiosity is not merely academic but deeply personal and significant. An unaccepting and unkind society tasks women who carry experiences of racism and sexism (and, yes, their own dating histories and encounters with men) with the protection and guidance of boys (sometimes without a partner). As these factors divulge, bisexuality already has visibility issues and is not always represented positively, or at all, in the media. So how does this play out?

My mother’s perspective on sexuality was binary and rigid but not loud, obnoxious, or verbally aggressive.

Things like homosexuality and bisexuality were intentionally not discussed. The acronyms “LGBT” or “LGBTQ+” weren’t a thing in my home in the 90s, and the words bi and bisexuality were totally absent. Effeminate men or masculine women were referred to as having an ‘alternative lifestyle,’ sweet, sissies, tomboys, dyke, or engendered an eyebrow raise and eye roll.

Navigating Relationships with Women as a Bi Teen and Man

I asked a coworker out, a woman who was not only beautiful but also smart and funny. I was 19 at the time. Feeling it was the right move to be honest and naively unaware of society’s backlash, I asked her on a date and told her I was bi on Myspace.

The next day, not only had she told my coworkers I was gay, but she had also expressed confusion about why I had asked her out. Aside from the rejection and confusion, the public humiliation echoed as if my mother’s unspoken disapproval of non-heteronormativity came to life in this woman’s reaction. This would not be the last time. Like many queer people, little did I know, as a bi teen and future bi man, that this was laying the groundwork and setting the stage.

Being rejected for your sexuality, when it’s your sexuality that makes you like someone is a twilight-zoney experience. The thought was, on the surface, bisexuality was barely (not really) a thing for men, and in the black community, according to popular Black gay writers like E. Lynn Harris and J.L. King, it was transitional or synonymous with ‘DL,’ an evil dark creature who conspired to cheat on you with a man and purposely bring home AIDS, deception, and familial havoc.

How does an adolescent reconcile a genuine interest in and attraction to women with these forces?

I obsessed: Does this anxiety make me gay? Does this anxiety make me disinterested or unattracted to women, now? How do I make the anxiety stop? I kissed too many guys in a row — gay! If I’m gay, why do I still feel anxiety with my attraction to men? So anxiety is normal or it’s just me? Why does my body feel so awkward ALL THE TIME!? Maybe dating isn’t for me, so am I still bisexual if I can’t do this? And around and around I went.

Breaking into a monologue about systems of patriarchy, internalized misogyny, and conformity’s impact on society, or even understanding what bisexuality was and the impact of biphobia as a teen when all you know is you like someone, is an unfair, one-sided reality many Bi+ people face.

Somehow, I held on. I knew I was bisexual and I refused to call myself anything else with a straight face (pun intended). I’ve been stubborn with my instincts and always an “investigative reporter.”

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This was marked by moments where I yearned for the kind of acceptance R.K. described. Yet, I often encountered the opposite: a ‘woman’s gaze’ that made me feel like my masculinity and intentions were under review.

Am I walking correctly?

Am I speaking correctly?

Did I blink too much?

Am I embarrassing her?

Am I worthy enough to be here and recognized?

I pride myself on being that guy, disciplined, a protector, well-kept, attentive, and surely a champion of anyone I found romantically or sexually attractive. My personal interests have always had some duality to them and are “bi” in a way. I’ve always been attracted to the arts. Music. Poetry. Emotion. But I’ve always been interested in cars. Strength. Speed. Society has often made me feel that not only my attractions, but sheer my presence and perspective send mix signals, when I’m actually I’m just Ross!

These experiences underscore the need for open dialogues about bisexuality managed by Bi+ people, especially within the black community, where misconceptions and misinformation run rampant, go unchecked, suffocate, and erect false senses of doubt, and destroy our mental health.

Many years later, when I turned a corner with my dad’s death in 2017, I began to unravel. I was intent on discovering the root of my anxiety with dating.

A study released by the American Psychiatric Association at their Annual Meeting in 2021 found that a consistent perspective from parents, whether positive or negative, leads to better outcomes for lesbian and gay people than parents with changing (or unclear) perspectives. Although there was no mention of Bi+ people, which was expected, this analysis resonated with me because it highlighted the importance of consistency in parental attitudes.
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I also realized that my mother’s inability to acknowledge and discuss non-heteronormative sexualities not only inadvertently reinforced societal biases but also contributed to internalized stigma and toxic dating behaviors like sabotaging, projecting, ghosting, and self-imposed isolation.

Artistic Expression and Reimagining the Future

After my shock was resolved upon hearing R.K. speak about his mom, I began to imagine what support in my situation would have looked like. What would it have sounded like? What experiences would have aided my development?

In these reflections, I recognized that many of the qualities people have noticed in me, and I have learned to appreciate about myself — resilience, focus, drive, determination, and discipline — do not begin with me. They are a result of my mother’s influence and the example she set. The sacrifice of her life has not only shaped my sense of self but also my ability to dream, my tenacity and a natural inclination to imagine past expectations projected onto me.

I channeled these complex feelings into a song titled Grateful, which was a turning point in my understanding. Through it, I subverted and reimagined my experiences but also attempted to step in the shoes of a mother.

“God, I’m thankful for the way you made me. I’m so grateful for the path you gave me,” I sing with Epoch House choir from Nigeria.

Creating this song was a healing and cathartic experience for me and allowed me to affirm myself through re-authoring a suitable world.

I already understand how to harness the power of creative writing; however, another lesson for me was not to cast every woman with the same brush as I had encountered. And it’s been hard to reconcile those early teenage experiences, which shot down the innocence and joy I had about finding a label that fit me.

In many ways, I am still on a healing journey. When I hear conversations with black mothers and bisexuality, I expect them to be negative, misinformed, triggering, demonizing, and all the things I don’t want them to be.

But as I’ve dug deep and opened my eyes wider than my comfort zone, I discover versions of the world where people, family, mother, and father are champions, cheerleaders, and protectors unflinchingly. And it helps when public figures like R.K. Russell take the first step of vulnerability to shine a light on this topic on TV.

It helps when writers like Amario Jones write pieces like Unbound Affection about how his mother showed him not only unbound affection but independently went on a path of education and inquiry to learn about the experiences of Bi+ men. These worlds and stories exist!

While it often feels like we are the only one experiencing or going through something, that is never the case.

We must continue to have open dialogues, in familial settings and broader societal contexts, about the lives and experiences of Bi+ folks and the women who love us.

The path toward acceptance, self-compassion, and community is fraught with challenges. So much work has been done and there will always be more to do.

Still, through inquiry, artistic expression, and support, it is possible to unveil and permit a spectrum of truths and imagine a future where bisexual men — Bi+ black men and other men of color — are not only understood and recognized as real but celebrated. A future where we are championed, and we use our societal position to inspire and break barriers of masculinity that also restrict our straight and gay brothers.