I Will Not Lie.

ABilly Jones-Hennin spoke these words in a society where one’s identity is often interwoven with threads of expectations and assumptions. The clarity and courage behind Jones-Hennin’s declaration cut through the noise.

I aim to reflect on the impact of ABilly’s advocacy, his commitment to living authentically, and the enduring influence on individuals like myself, who have found inspiration in his life.

Who Was ABilly?

ABilly Jones-Hennin was born in St. Johns, Antigua, in 1942 and adopted by a Virginia family deeply involved in civil rights activism. From a young age, he was no stranger to the fight for equality and actively participated in the Black civil rights movement during the 1950s and ’60s.

He met with the Carter administration to discuss discrimination, housing, and healthcare and participated in lunch counter sit-ins. His activism paved the way for his future LGBTQ advocacy. A. Billy had five children, ten grandchildren, and eleven great-grandchildren, highlighting a rich family life that intertwined with his activism.

Concerned by the lack of African-American representation within the LGBTQ movement, he founded the D.C. Coalition of Black Gays in 1978, later expanding his efforts to establish the National Coalition of Black Gays (NCBG), the first national advocacy group for Black LGBTQ+ people in the United States. Jones-Hennin not only held the roles mentioned above but also served as minority affairs director for the National AIDS Network at various times.

My encounter with Jones-Hennin’s story through the Los Angeles Bi+ Task Force’s Bi-alogue series on elders sparked my curiosity, and I felt a personal connection. The revelation of Jones-Hennin’s life, his marriage to a woman, his children, and later, his 40-year-plus marriage to a man, provided me with a previously unseen narrative.

“Wait, there’s an 80-year-old Bisexual guy?! How!? Why!?”

The better question is “Why not!?”

In an interview with AARP, A. Billy said, “I knew early on that I was attracted to boys as well as girls and then later to men as well as women, but did not have the language for it. I slowly identified myself as gay, but calling myself gay didn’t totally fit me. Eventually, I was fortunate enough to meet several bisexual activists and came to awareness and acceptance of myself as bisexual.”

I recognized parts of my story in A. Billy’s. Growing up as a bi teenager, I often wondered how my sexuality would play out. I believed that I was waiting for something to be revealed. Should I conceal my Bisexuality, come out after I was married, and risk blowing the marriage and family? Should I avoid relationships altogether? Should I say I just say I was gay and move on with my life? These thoughts took over my mind and froze me in fear and confusion. Not confusion about who I was attracted to, but confusion about how to pretend I was something that I wasn’t.

Jones-Hennin’s decision to not hide his Bisexuality any longer, although he stated it would have been easier to identify as gay, shows defiance against societal pressure. It also revealed that coming out as bi can be sustained and justified for a lifetime. That it’s real, and I’m real!

To hear a Bisexual elder utter, ‘Oh, you want to have your cake and eat it too?’ and now I can say, ‘Yeah, actually, I do,’ filled me with joy, liberation, and permission. I felt connected immediately. Connected through his bisexual journey, yes, but even more so by how he shared and his visual representation.

His rebellious commitment resonates with me as an artist and a Black Bisexual man. There has always been a sense that stating my truth or living it out confidently was rebelling and would be short-lived or ultimately “unsustainable.”

Society, family, and friends made me feel that my personal interests, creative energy, and attraction to men and women would reveal ‘a phase,” and I would eventually settle down into a boring job and with a wife and kids or accept being gay and alone to die unfulfilled, unhappy, and inauthentic.

Intersection of Blackness & Sexuality

Jones-Hennin’s insistence on the fundamental importance of truth presents a powerful counter-narrative. His presence alone challenged the all-too-common practice of concealment among Bisexual Black men, where societal pressures often demand that we ‘choose a side’ or ‘be quiet and suffer.’

Reflecting on Jones-Hennin’s legacy, I am struck by the profound implications for family structures. His candidness about his relationships — navigating life as a Bisexual man, a father, and a partner — illuminates our lives and families’ possibilities.

Anti-LGBTQ rhetoric in some Black circles is rooted in the idea that Black people need to procreate and to protect the traditional black family structure from LGBTQ people — people who further contribute to our demise in the United States. A. Billy challenges us to consider how we model authenticity and love as parents, children, and partners and that being a bisexual person does not separate someone (or negate) their ability to be a loving father and partner, and to live a life of purpose.

The waiting, my waiting, until the loss of my father — a man of traditional and patriarchal views — underscores the impact that role models like Jones-Hennin can have. My father was the foundation of my life, yet the thought of having grown up with a father who was openly bisexual, as I am, fills me with a sense of wonder. Such role models shouldn’t be confined to the margins of society; they deserve a spotlight on the main stage, challenging and broadening our perceptions, demonstrating that diversity enriches us all.

Navigating Work/ Life Barriers & Policy Changes

The journey of a Black Bisexual man (a “BBM”) is interwoven with cultural barriers that extend through family, friendships, workplaces, societal interactions, and healthcare environments.

We find ourselves at the intersection of discrimination that targets our race and sexual orientation, and we are challenged to defend our right to exist or to internalize oppressive ideas. Some Black communities will often demand one be ‘Black first,’ as opposed to ‘LGBTQ first,’ which incentivizes concealment to access community.

These same communities will complain about inauthentic men and the prevalence of men with double lives (DL). “I have never separated my Blackness…” A. Billy S. Jones-Hennin said in an interview. There’s no way to cut yourself into little pieces and decide who shows up. Our race and sexuality do not exist independently.

Healthcare, too, presents significant hurdles, with a glaring lack of Bisexual-specific resources and understanding that results in our health needs being unaddressed, exacerbating disparities and reinforcing feelings of invisibility.

These daily realities underscore the urgent need for comprehensive policy changes. Advocacy must push beyond societal acceptance to demand policies that protect our rights, promote health equity, ensure workplace inclusivity, and create supportive environments in medical, work, and social contexts.

Policy changes that would impact Black Bisexual individuals:

• Improved sexual history curriculums in medical school.
• A non-discriminatory, anti-racist policy for the health care needs of Bisexual populations.
• Promotion of awareness of potential patients and education of Bisexual health issues.
• Equity in domestic partnerships despite sexual identity.
• Human Resources education on LGBTQ and Bisexual-specific concerns and challenges.
• Official communications and outreach that reflect inclusive language.
• Developed, implemented, and sustained disciplinary practices related to physician and workplace malpractice and complaints.

Facing microaggressions and systemic invisibility has underscored the need for the policies Jones-Hennin advocated. These aren’t abstract ideas, but realities that I, and many other Bi+ people, navigate daily and rarely share.

Years ago, I was targeted for harassment by a gay male and a straight female coworker because I did not reciprocate their romantic interests. I was helpless and didn’t know how to navigate. I subsequently became the butt of office jokes.

This was not about unrequited affection; it was a concerted effort that slowly escalated to bullying and led to my dismissal. I also could not tell my family the true reason I was fired because I was not out as Bisexual yet.

If there had been clear, accessible avenues to address such Bisexual-specific workplace grievances, and knowing I would be supported and not questioned further, the trajectory of my emotional and professional life might have been vastly different and perhaps allowed me to trust more professional relationships. The need for policies that include the full spectrum of LGBTQ+ experiences is not just administrative; it’s a lifeline. It matters.

Policymakers can address the systemic inequalities affecting us by championing reforms on the decades of groundwork BBM’s like ABilly Jones-Henin, Ibrahim Abdurrahman Farajajé, Dr. H. “Herukhuti” Sharif Williams, Cedric Maurice, and others, have done. Equity efforts for Bi+ people are not novel; there are frameworks to build from.