Look Both Ways: Bisexual Politics

by Jennifer Baumgardner

"A necessary read for those looking to expand their understanding of both bisexuality and the contributions of Third Wave feminism."―Rebecca Walker, Bookforum

"Revealing, smart, titillating . . . Look Both Ways [cuts] straight to the heart of many young women's fraught relationship to both feminism and their own femininity." ―Jessica Clark, In These Times

"Baumgardner's voice remains as compelling as ever, not only because she writes with the candor of your closest friend, but because she herself appears to be learning and questioning along with the reader." ―Fiorella Valdesolo, Nylon

"Baumgardner is generally thoughtful and honest, with a refreshing sense of humor about herself and her politics. . . . Baumgardner's prose, at its best, is warm, unpretentious and funny . . . And as a memoirist, she is impressively willing to make herself vulnerable. . . . Her arguments for sexual complexity and openness are compelling, as are her claims that bisexual experiences can supply a kind of stereoscopic vision."― Rebecca Tuhus-Dubrow, Salon

Genres: Nonfiction, Feminism, Queer, LGBT, Sexuality, Bisexual, Memoir

256 pages, Paperback

First published January 1, 2007

Reviews

[HeavyReader · Rating 2 out of 5]

The most annoying thing about this book was not that it was mostly a piece of fluff, an excuse for the author to mention all the famous people she knows. (She is especially proud that Amy Ray of the Indigo Girls was once her partner.)

The most annoying part of this book is not even that it is waaaaay longer than it needs to be. (It is mostly just a magazine article barely fleshed out into a book.)

The most annoying part of this book is the author's insistence on using some form of the term "look both ways" to refer to bisexuality. Sure, we really do need a synonym for "bisexual" and "bisexuality," but I got really tired of the author using the overly cutesy term over and over and over again. I think she just wants everyone to think she is oh so clever for making up (or at least first using in print) the "look both ways" phrase.

The subtitle of this book is "bisexual politics," but the cover should have referred to bisexuality and feminism, because that's what this book is really about. It's not a bad concept for the book, and I did learn some things; this book made me think. But it is in no way the serious book that I was expecting and hoping for.

[Laura Wallace · Rating 3 out of 5]

I can't really disagree with a lot of the criticism leveled against this book. I find Baumgardner's thesis to be valuable and enlightening, but it is largely based on her own sexual and romantic experiences, which were largely dysfunctional, it seems: she seems to simultaneously give more weight to relationships with men while contending that women make better partners and much better lovers.

I was drawn to this book because my sexual history is, on paper, pretty similar to Baumgardner's, and, although I have not come to the same conclusions she has about those genders, this personal connection is what makes me love it. She says a lot of things that you really don't hear in the everyday public discourse on sexuality, which in my experience is just, "you are who you fuck now, therefore you either realize you're really a lesbian or that was just a phase and now you are a hasbian." This dilemma is why it makes sense that Baumgardner focuses on women--male bisexuality is lived very differently, and that book should be written by a bisexual man.

Baumgardner offers a lot of ways that bisexuality could be used politically, which is awesome. One argument here that really resonated with me is that bisexuality is useful precisely because many of us do tend to be "invisible" and thus can't claim to be oppressed in the same way (although there are bisexual butches out there, etc.). This is something I struggle with and often an excuse for me not coming out as bi-or-whatever, because I don't want to sound like I'm claiming a marginal status that I don't actually share. But I digress.

Hey, if you slept with Amy Ray, you'd write about it in every chapter, too.

[Grace · Rating 1 out of 5]

Last month, I posted about my irritation with the Bitch interview with Jennifer Baumgardner, the author of Look Both Ways: Bisexual Politics. I was very disappointed with the interview, but at that time said I'd still read the book, as maybe she had more to say than she'd let on.

Once again, I'm disappointed.

The book is just as bad, if not worse, than the interview was. Baumgardner honestly seems to see a special place for herself and other bisexuals (or at least bisexual women, she has very little to say about bisexual men) in the gay (specifically lesbian) community. Not only does she expect to be welcomed as queer, regardless of her partnership status, but she seems to think she's a really special kind of queer, even "queerer" than lesbians, or something. Which is both infuriating and kind of amazing in its narcissism.

Baumgardner's real talent, as far as I can tell, is in getting prominent women to agree to talk to her on the record. Much of the book focuses on interviews with bisexual feminists, or feminists who have had relationships with both men and women, including Alix Kates Shulman, Liza Featherstone, and Ani DiFranco (she also draws heavily on her own previous relationship with Amy Ray). And while I found her discussions with older feminists like Shulman, who don't and never have used the label bisexual, even though they had had relationships with both men and women, very interesting, the younger women, including Featherstone and DiFranco, seemed to serve only as quotes to back up the assertions Baumgardner makes about herself.

The book is also littered with stereotypes and myths about lesbians and particularly about bisexual women that I just don't understand the point of including if you aren't going to actually address them. Baumgardner has lots of joking asides about Smith College and LUGS (Lesbians Until Graduation), for example, but she doesn't make any attempt to reconcile this with actual bisexuality. To her, being bisexual, being a political lesbian, and having an experimental phase seem to be the same thing, more or less, and yet she still thinks the gay and lesbian community should accept bisexuals with open arms and even elevate them to a special status? I don't get it.

The single most infuriating thing about the book, though, is not Baumgardner's claims about bisexuality but her claims about feminism. In a way that reads to me as almost anti-feminist, Baumgardner seems to think that the real and important work of feminism was finished in the 1970s and we're just sort of refining things now and ought to be much more concerned with other social justice movements than with feminism. This doesn't speak to my reality at all, nor does it give any thought to the international position of women that third wavers, including Baumgardner herself, claim to be so concerned about in other writings.

Basically, the book is infuriating and disappointing. Baumgardner touches on what I'd consider the important and interesting things that could be said about being a bisexual feminist in contemporary America in about 10% of the book, the rest is either fluff about her personal life, celebrity gawking, holding up stereotypes, or just rambling about things that are really not that important. If you are looking for solid work on bisexuality, skip this one and keep searching.

[Jennie · Rating 3 out of 5]

Contrary to the criticism raised in previous reviews, I actually enjoyed this book. It's definitely more of a sexual memoir than anything but I actually prefer my personal reading to be more personal and less pedantic. However, as an autobiography there are certain flaws within the narration. Baumgardner tends to describe sexual politics from a very binary perspective, even while she's arguing for a more inclusive, fluid definition of sexuality. While I related to some of her feelings, I felt she was a bit too hard on men and almost uncomfortably obsessed with Ani Difranco. Of course, as an Ani fan myself, I forgave her idolization - but I could see how it might really annoy some readers. However, Baumgarder admits many of her own mistakes (including a lack of perspective) in dealing with both men and women - a candor which I appreciated. Overall this is a pretty good book, with some interesting points, but it's not a good choice for someone interested in academic discourse on the subject.

[Rachel · Rating 1 out of 5]

This book is hours of my life I will not get back. It received a great deal of positive press in feminist circles earlier this year, so I was really excited to read it, enough that I almost bought it in hardback. How glad I am that I waited to get it from the library. Baumgardner, a third-wave feminist with some bizarre atavistic 70s separatist tendencies, believes that relationships between women are without exception nurturing and sheltering, offering protection from the oppression that (also apparently without exception) is part and parcel of heterosexual relationships. (One must assume that, in Baumgardner's world, same-sex partner abuse does not exist.)

I read this book hoping, by the title and description, for a discussion of the politics of bisexuality and the queer community. What I found instead was 1) the author's sexual history, and 2) her apparent belief that bisexuality is the superior sexual orientation, a guaranteed pathway to liberation and enlightenment for women. Male bisexuals and transfolk might as well not exist as far as this book is concerned. She devotes an entire chapter to the singer Ani DiFranco--and while, sure, I like Ani too, I don't think she's quite the cultural catalyst that the pages of laudations allotted to her would imply.

I was hoping that this book would serve as an addition to the canon of Loraine Hutchins and Lani Kaahumanu's Bi Any Other Name and Marjorie Garber's Vice Versa. Alas, it looks as though we have to stick with the classics for now.

[Bad Penny · Rating 1 out of 5]

I don't know why I hated this book so much, but I did. It seemed like Baumgardner never made a succinct point; her writing was like someone talking just to hear themselves talk. In her endless yammering on about herself and her relationship with Amy Ray, she really did nothing for bisexual politics and her overuse of the phrase "look both ways" made her come across as a high-schooler trying to meet the word count requirement for an essay.

[Jennifer · Rating 1 out of 5]

Look Both Ways by Jennifer Baumgardner is supposed to be about bisexual politics, however it is more of a chance for Baumgardner to pontificate and name drop. Baumgardner tries to create a cute nickname for bisexuals in this book; she frequently says that people “look both ways.” This continues long after readers have the point, and is almost like she hopes that by repeatedly saying it, that if you didn’t think it was a cute name before you’ll learn to love it. She mentions that in every day conversation we don’t say heterosexual and homosexual, then why do we say bisexual? Baumgardner states that this is an indication of unfinished political business. Granted, the few nicknames there are for bisexual are far from complementary, fence-sitter, waffle, heartbreaker, and disease vector. By people, I mean women because Baumgardner almost never mentions men and their sexuality. The only times she does mention men is to talk about how emotionally unavailable they are and how no relationship with a man will ever be as fulfilling as one with a woman. It always seems like a red-flag when anyone bunches a whole group of people together.

Baumgardner spends some time talking about the invisibility of being bisexual, if you’re with a member of the opposite sex you’re straight and with a member of the same sex you’re gay. She reminds the reader that sexuality is fluid and just because this concept is not the social norm now does not discredit it. A very cringe worthy, but valid part of the books is Baumgardner talking about her first relationship with a woman. She talks about how she had to come to terms with her own prejudices about same sex relationships. No one likes to admit that they’re prejudice about something, especially a part of themselves. Society teaches people prejudices, which first, they must become aware of before they can get rid of.

Baumgardner has been going to college campuses since 2002 to speak about feminism and during this time and when the book was published (2007) saw an increase in LGBT acceptance there. She states that this increase of LGBT acceptance and the increase of people identifying as LGBT have caused women to have “gay expectations” in heterosexual relationships, which is “sexual fulfillment, emotional fulfillment and intellectual satisfaction.” Once again she forgoes mentioning men and their changing views on sexuality and their roles in society.

This book is more of a memoir than a discussion of bisexual politics. There are times when Baumgardner seemed to bring up people in the book, only to be able to say she met them, interviewed them, or slept with them. For most of the book Baumgardner comes off as either smug or self-congratulatory, neither one makes for an enjoyable reading experience. This book would be wonderful for someone’s first foray into reading about feminism or bisexual politics but people familiar with either topic will probably find this book rudimentary.

Trigger Warnings:

No known

Does it pass the Bechdel test?

N/A

Originally Posted on my blog One-Thousand Lives Book Reviews

[Sarah · Rating 2 out of 5]

I really wish I could give 2.5 stars, because I don't think this one deserves 3, but it isn't as bad as a plain 2.

I went into this one aware of a lot of the criticism, but still wanting to give it a shot, because I feel like there's a dearth of good books on bisexuality. (Also, I enjoyed Manifesta: Young Women, Feminism, and the Future when I read it for a class in college.)

Unfortunately, this book has two huge problems. First (and worst) of all, as mentioned in many of the reviews, Baumgardner privileges bisexuality over all other sexualities, which is extremely problematic in of itself, but which also makes the book come off as smug and self-congratulatory. (The fact that the author is something of a name-dropper does not help.) Second of all, the author apparently never made up her mind as to whether she was writing a memoir or a critical analysis. To be perfectly honest, there was not enough research for the latter, and not enough depth for the former.

And yet, the book was accessible, readable, and had some good points. Ultimately, though, I think it's also pretty forgettable.

[Sarah Hanck · Rating 3 out of 5]

The main premise of the book is a great one - that bisexuality is inherently isolated from gay and straight, lacking in a sense of community/identity, and that one is always defined by the gender of your current partner. I like the premise, but was frustrated by the way she makes her argument. Ultimately it seemed that she believes what some feminists/lesbians argue, which is that being with women is inherently 'better', both in terms of intimacy, power balances, role negotiating, communication, everything. She didn't give the same credence or respect to her relationships with men, ultimately concluding that relationships with men are what she really wants, but almost as if this was 'weak' of her. Dating men is not necessarily mysogynistic, which she comes close to arguing often. There are a lot of problems with the book, but it's a quick and important read. I encourage anyone interested in sexual politics, bisexuality, feminist, gender studies, etc. to read it for themselves!

[Penny · Rating 1 out of 5]

I think there were two things that nailed the coffin here for me on Baumgardner's fluffy man-focused pseudofeminism:

1) She talks about how she finally had a positive, egalitarian relationship with a woman... and the followup was that she wanted to see if she could have that positivity and openness with a man, because she missed straight privilege, and

2) She talks about all of the positive things being involved with women brings to women's relationships with men, but makes absolutely no discussion of anything positive that having been involved with men brings to relationships with other women.

I guess I just don't get the point of a bisexual feminism so focused on relationships with men and the desire for straight privilege, like the best thing about interactions with other women is the ways they improve opposite-sex relationships. I found this gross and disappointing and ultimately very queer-negative.

[Emerson Lane · Rating 2 out of 5]

this book is ridiculous. it comes to us from one of the co-editors of Manifesta, which is what first caught my attention. she completely lost my interest when she casually mentions in a first chapter anecdote that she SEXUALLY HARASSED AN INTERN WHEN SHE WORKED FOR MS MAGAZINE! hello! she does not even acknowledge that "casually" making all your intern sstate their sexual reference over drinks counts! my attitude towards the rest of the book? ugh.


mostly this book was whiney and made no real points except that bisexuals are marginalized by both the gay and straight communities (duh) aaaand just 'cause she likes both doesn't mean she's a slut (another duh).

not worth it.

[Highlyeccentric · Rating 3 out of 5]

This was a frustrating book. I learned a lot of interesting trivia about 90s pop culture, including that there were far more bisexuals in it than I thought. There were some occasionally well-phrased ways of expressing ideas I've seen before, but nothing particularly ground-breaking. Even taking into account that it's over a decade old, 'Closer to Home' is much older and MUCH more insightful.

This was... magazine-y. I've never read Ms magazine, for which the author used to write, but in Australian terms it felt like... Cleo: The Bisexual Special. Only with a weirdly uncritical Thing for second-wave feminist foremothers, without any of their depth. (One of the well-phrased ideas was that second wave feminist criticism did not actually equip the young women of the 90s to fully reshape or realise their relationships with men, but even that point turned into weird bitterness without offering an alternative. I wanted to smack the author upside the head and say READ MORE BELL HOOKS.)

For something subtitled 'bisexual politics' it's actually about 'bisexual female existence in a particular culture bubble', with limited political ANYTHING.

[KA · Rating 5 out of 5]

I feel that this should be an important book, but we'll see. Baumgardner keeps coming back to the issue of bisexual identity, and related problems: are you bisexual only in theory, and either gay or straight depending on the sex of the person you're currently with? She makes a case for holding onto bisexuality as an identity as a way of being true to one's self and one's history, while also holding a political and cultural place different from gay/lesbian or straight, helping to illustrate the continuum of sexuality. It should be noted that Baumgardner is writing almost entirely of women's bisexuality; the subtitle should have been "Bisexual Feminist Politics."

Baumgardner gives a helpful and very respectful history of second-wave feminism and its intersection with sexuality. While I question her "outing" prominent second-wave self-identified lesbians as bisexuals (Audre Lorde, for example, calls herself a lesbian despite past relationships with men), she does show just how fuzzy the borders can be, and how often a bisexually-oriented woman chose to identify as lesbian or as a "woman-identified woman" in the context of the women's movement.

Baumgardner also gets kudos for dealing respectfully with two difficult representatives of bisexuality: Ani DiFranco and Anne Heche. Ani she describes as, basically, the bisexual third-wave feminist par excellence, describing her role in the lives of young, female fans and the unexpected role those fans played for her. It was nice to read something that took Ani and her influence seriously. Similarly, it was good to see Heche treated like a human being, not trashed for her "straight-girl" ignorance (e.g., calling Ellen "my wife") or her break-up with Ellen DeGeneres. The ambiguities and contradictions in Heche's story are dealt with, but they are not allowed to deny her coming out, her relationship with Ellen, or her experience in the spotlight.

Ultimately, Baumgardner sees Heche's ignorance of "the way to be gay" as straight privilege, and argues that bisexuals can bring some of that to the LGBTQ-rights movement. As with any other privilege, it needs to be named and not be used against those without privilege. But Baumgardner thinks privilege has been demonized unfairly, and that it has transformative potential. From their relationships with other women to their relationships with men, she envisions bisexual women bringing a sense of taking equality for granted (what she calls, cornily, "gay expectations"). From their relationships with men to those with women, they bring a sense of entitlement, positively speaking, taking for granted that a same-sex partner is just as natural as one of the opposite sex.

Overall, this is an enjoyable read as well as a thought-provoking one. Baumgardner gives the impression of knowing she's not the last word on the subject, but hoping her modest contribution to the conversation will prove fruitful. Here's hoping she is correct in her belief that young third-wave (and beyond) bisexual feminists have less internalized sexism and homophobia, and can use that freedom respectfully towards the goal of liberation for everyone.

[Nina · Rating 4 out of 5]

With Look Both Ways Jennifer Baumgardner wrote a book that shows how an important part of her identity evolved. It is a book about her own experiences, about how she explored her bisexuality and how difficult it was for her not to be misunderstood as either lesbian or straight. At the same time she analyses the influence of feminism on her way of perceiving sexuality, how it has helped her just as much as it has hampered her in some moments.
There is definitely something in Look Both Ways that can be considered controversial. Among other things Baumgardner views (second wave) feminists critically who she feels overstep their bounds by judging women’s relationships and ways of living when they are not according to their ideas. In addition she expresses how confining some of these ideas felt for her at times while struggling to define her identity. I got the impression Baumgardner has distanced from second wave feminism while appreciating all it has done for her as an individual and women in general. However she has moved on to more individual views, which I found great to read about, even more so since she sheds a very positive light on third wave feminists.
I would have wished for a more differentiating view on her relationships with men and women. She has had male and female partners, and women made better partners for her, though she also cherished her relationships with men. There is no either or, obviously, and she also states that this is her perspective only. But this was something where I would have wished for a little more.
I enjoyed reading the book. Jennifer Baumgardner showed how she became stronger as an individual by leaving behind many of the expectations others might have on how women should live their lives. She describes her journey and I found it exciting to read about that, especially since I could relate to some of it. 4 stars.

[Jen · Rating 3 out of 5]

I enjoyed this book a lot, but mostly in a way that might be sort of self-indulgent. I've only ever seen one other book devoted solely to bisexuality. So this was a cool find for me because it is so rare to find any writing on that topic that goes beyond the "hot girl on girl action!" surface to substantial analysis. And substatial analysis is what Baumgardner dishes out, but I wish her scope was a bit broader. She interviewed a lot of veteran, 2nd wavers who've had relationships with men and women, and a lot of awesome 3rd wavers who've had same and opposite sex relationships as well. But it would have been nice if she had taken the time to take to some people who were not, ya know, famous, since that's who her analysis was allegedly for and about. But I guess when you've been living in NYC for years as a successful journalist, and you used to date Amy Ray, and your well off, you might tend to forget that there's a world of ordinary folk beyond Manhattan. In any case, Jennifer Baumgardner is one of my favorite journalists, and just that fact that someone finally wrote a whole book on this topic makes me releived and happy. And I could actually relate to a lot of what she talked about when discussing her own experiences. A bonus is an entire chapter devoted to Ani Difranco called "The Ani Phenomenon." HA! It was sort of dishy, and made me feel less embarrassed by my adolescent obsession and continuing appreciation of the little folksinger. Let's face it, she was a very important figure in feminist and queer politics of the third wave. And, ya know, she's hot too.

[alicia · Rating 3 out of 5]

Not the most well-written book that I've ever read - in fact at many points throughout I found myself wondering: "what's her point." It could have been 100 pages shorter and better for it. Finally in the last several pages Baumgardner gets to the crux of her point (or at least she finally articulates it in a concise way) - clearly making the link with feminism. That is, that accepting who women choose to have relationships with is ultimately about embracing the notion that sexuality is always complex, it is always fluid and that we all have a right to equality, inclusion and to live our individual truth. There is alot about what she writes that I am not sure I agree with but it was nonetheless thought-provoking and worth the read.

[Laura · Rating 2 out of 5]

I want to read a better book on this subject. Her question is interesting: why it is so difficult to find acceptance as a bisexual even within the LGBTQ community. But I think she fails to make headway on an answer here. She claims any number of celebrities as bisexual that I don't think identify that way, and isn't naming ourselves the right we fight to claim? Her namedropping is downright annoying but I might excuse it if she was honoring their choices. At the same time she spreads the net of bisexuality to include everyone who ever experimented with same sex partners, she fails to validate and even trivializes their experiences. So disappointing. Will continue to look for the book I want to read, nonfiction as insightful and affirming as John Irving's novel "In One Person."

[kyle · Rating 3 out of 5]

I'm about 1/3 in so far... but I'm confused about the so-far unquestioned assumption that a "bisexual" must be a woman. Unless I missed something, there hasn't been anything about choosing to focus only on bisexuality in women.

[Shelby · Rating 4 out of 5]

The first time I read this book, in the summer of 2010, I devoured it. I had wanted to get ahold of Baumgarder's book ever since I ran across a review of it in an old copy of Bitch magazine I had the good fortune of finding my last year of Peace Corps service in Madagascar. (I can't tell you how many times I reread that review and dreamed of reading the full book.) As I read the book the first time through I laughed and just absolutely bubbled with joy. I excitedly underlined various passages, going so far as to use my bookmark for a straight edge (some Malagasy habits died hard). At that time I would have told anyone it was a delightful memoir that read like a novel. I also just felt so incredibly *seen* that even if the book had been sub par I would have still loved it, I was so full of joy at the reading. I promptly put the book, heavily underlined, in the mail to my friend in New York in the hopes she'd enjoy it just as much. Now, 13 years later, I bought myself another copy of Look Both Ways so I could reread it and figure out why the rest of the world wasn't as enamored with the book as my younger self. (I was taken aback by the average Goodreads rating.) I can still say with confidence, this is a great book. What I had forgotten, was just how academic the book is. This is a text that could be assigned to a college class. It's well researched and has just enough sprinkling of first person anecdotes to keep the book entertaining and relatable. The sheer number of interviews Baumgardner conducted should be applauded.

[Chris · Rating 3 out of 5]

I found the quality of this book to be very inconstant. Some chapters were more focused on her personal experience (while sort of interesting, I couldn't quite figure out why they were included); others on a pop-culture examination of bisexuality (somewhat dubious value--why examine those parts of pop culture? It didn't feel well organized or systematic); other passages were more bent on feminist theory. In some ways, reading this book felt bizarre because it meandered so much, like a magazine writer chose to write a book but didn't quite know how to tie things together as she went along. I will say, though, that the writer really seemed to hit her stride in the last two or three chapters, which I really, really enjoyed. A lot in the last few sections resonated with me.

[Ems · Rating 2 out of 5]

It has some interesting points, but completely ignores the complexity of gender- let alone how that relates to the understanding of sexuality (I don't think she even mentions enbys and refers to trans folks as "transgendered"). The thing I did appreciate was the clearer understanding of the the waves of feminism and some of the history of the term 'bisexual', but it still missed a lot and seemed to ultimately chalk bisexuality up to a more recent phenomenon among women while almost fully leaving bisexual men out of the discussion.

[Gilda Diaz · Rating 4 out of 5]

Baumgardner's style is the flashy, polished cringe of an articulate writer. She writes about her personal and work life as a bisexual woman and has no scientific answers but speaks authentically (enough) about her experience in New York. She interviews queer women, her family and her exes. What was missing was were chapters about bisexual men and trans bisexuals. Otherwise, I recommend it, like a one-night stand that becomes a lifelong friend.

[caskofpbr · Rating 4 out of 5]

I liked this book much better than it seems many others did. Not sure if “politics” is the right way to describe the author’s writing on bisexuality. It’s really more of a personal memoir and cultural picture of the 90s/2000s. It’s definitely dated, but I like consuming dated queer media from this period to remind myself of the world I grew up in and how different it is from the social climate today.

[Jen · Rating 3 out of 5]

Most of this book is super relevant, but I had a hard time with the use of outdated and offensive terms, especially regarding the trans community. I get that for the time blah blah blah, but it made it harder to read and rate higher.

[Ariana · Rating 3 out of 5]

More of a memoire of the authors sexuality journey and history of feminism as related to white female sexuality. I was looking for more in depth exploration of bisexuality and the related politics.

[Michael Smith · Rating 3 out of 5]

A well-researched, somewhat dated primer about a still-misunderstood queer identity.

[Adrienne · Rating 2 out of 5]

I was so, so excited when I found this book on the shelf at Powell's Books. I am always on the lookout for books that deal with the specificity of bisexuality/attraction to multiple genders, rather than reducing queerness in all its complexity to same-sex attraction. And there's such a dearth of books on the subject, too-- although they exist, the publishing world seems to think that people interested in writings on bisexuality want not a nuanced analysis comprising history, theory, politics, and experience, but just a series of tell-all personal essays and memoirs. Or at least they THOUGHT that-- it seems like writings on bisexuality peaked around 1993, and has not progressed since. I looked forward to writing a book on bisexuality that was written after the 1990s, and maybe, just maybe, went beyond the personal essay genre.

Looks like I'm still going to be waiting for that book.

My first complaint about Look Both Ways is, what the hell happened to Jennifer Baumgardner's editor? This book seriously lacks coherence. The chapters don't really have clear arguments around which they are developed, to which they hope to lead the reader. Their apparent themes are just suggestions. I wouldn't even give Look Both Ways the benefit of the doubt by calling its writing style stream-of-consciousness-- it's just a bunch of disconnected ramblings. There is no attempt, really, to lead the reader on a journey, to get her or him to develop new ways of thinking about bisexuality. Trying to remember what you've read, even after you've just read it, is downright infuriating.

Second, and most importantly, although Look Both Ways has pretentions toward being more than just a personal tell-all memoir, it is framed through Baumgardner's personal story, such that the book seems to prize titillation over cohesive analysis (did you know Baumgardner once slept with Amy Ray? In case you didn't, she reminds you on every other page), and the memoir parts make the other, potentially more nuanced parts seem more fluffy. The historical and political bits, rather than standing on their own, seem to simply be extensions of Baumgardner's life story-- her interviews with prominent second-wave feminists, Ani DiFranco, and others seem to be less about correcting the historical record with regard to bisexuality and more about giving Baumgardner a chance to brag about all the famous people she knows. Worse, the rambling style of the book makes it damn near impossible for Baumgardner to distinguish between her own story and a broader history and politics of bisexuality. I don't fault her for making this book exclusively about bisexual women-- it may render her book title somewhat inaccurate, but given her history of writing about third-wave women, it is no less than I expected. But her insistence on making her experience and that of her friends just as important as the broader historical and political concerns cited here, rather than making a concerted effort to contextualize, means that a very specific subset of bisexual people's experience-- predominantly white, middle class, NYC-based, and normatively gendered (all bisexual women are presumed to be feminine here, and given Baumgardner's apparent obsession with "straight-seeming women" having relationships with one another, I don't think we can call these women femme)-- are presumed to be representative of bisexual experience more generally. Never once does Baumgardner ask what the limits of her experiences or that of her friends are; never once does she ask what range of bisexual experience might NOT be covered in the examples she provides.

All in all, a very disappointing book. I guess I'll have to keep waiting for the book on bisexuality I've always wanted, and hope that the golden age of bisexual publishing didn't end circa 1996.

[M]

notes: the "problem of bisexuality" as the nonexistence of a mixture of gay and straight within our imaginations; how we interpret our arousal is connected to our life narratives; society views bisexuality the wrong way - defining identity based on someone other than the bisexual person herself; sexuality is who you are, not who you sleep with, and doesn't change according to whom you're sleeping with; understanding bisexuality requires listening to the stories of bisexual people; AC/DC as metaphor for bisexuality; fear that experience may be uncommon and will result in isolation, alienation, and marginalization; bisexuality has been treated and therapized rather than defined; "cringing is often a sign of unfinished political business"; women organizing women offers a different sense of possibility; social conventions prevent the deviation from heterosexuality; compulsory heterosexuality; "the threatened loss of new possibility"; depicting women's love lives in black-or-white terms suppresses the messier realities of sexuality; sense of flux; home as nowhere and/or multiple locations and realities; straight relationships with gay expectations; paradox of feminism: "women expect equality from their relationships, but not from men"; bisexuality both subverts dominant power and provides access to it; bisexual women as more independent; women's bisexuality perceived as unthreatening; virgin/whore dichotomy; "stereotype threat"; "our individuality is part of our power"; no singular straight or gay experience; bisexuals as connectors - bridging people with and without privilege; positive aspect of entitlement - knowing relative freedom means one expects and enjoys it and provokes social change in order to keep or regain that freedom; entitlement = confidence = visibility = political power; bisexual visibility could make straight people the minority; margins as spaces of radical openness, but still small and limiting; value as a person shouldn't derive solely from being "other"; sexuality should originate in the self and not be defined as a reflection of who a person is sleeping with; bisexuals as subjects, not objects; subjectivity as a sign of having rights and privilege; many people's lives don't make sense in a gay/straight context - sexuality is more complex

[Keely Hyslop · Rating 2 out of 5]

There aren't a lot of books out there on the topic of bisexuality so I had pretty high hopes for this one.

The good:
It brought up a lot of interesting points which I hadn't considered. Baumgardner talks about bi women coming into hetero relationships with queer expectations and thus being able to obtain a more egalitarian relationship structure. She also makes an intriguing point about how greater recognition of bisexuality in society might have a positive impact on LGBT rights because what was once thought to be 10 percent of the population experiencing same sex attraction would drastically increase. I'm also going to be pondering her assertion of how people with privilege can have a beneficial affect on a civil rights struggle because people who feel entitled to certain rights (in the case of a bisexual, heterosexual privilege) are more likely to brazenly demand the same treatment for everyone.

The bad:
So many gender essentialist assumptions. She asserts again and again that all lesbian relationships are nurturing and rich in communication and that even bisexual women cannot expect to find the same qualities in a male partner. Her assumptions simultaneously idealize lesbian relationships and caricature heterosexual relationships. There is a lot more personality variation within the broad categories 'man' and 'woman' than reading this book would lead you to you believe. It's as if Baumgardner doesn't see butch women as real women or sensitive men as real men. Very irritating. I also thought there was a nasty vain of classism running through the whole work.

Final verdict:
It was a difficult subject to tackle and I admire Baumgardner for fearlessly tackling it. The book is nevertheless a bit uneven and leaves a lot more to be said on the topic of bisexuality, biphobia, and bisexual privilege.

[Chris Harrison · Rating 3 out of 5]

Look Both Ways is an intellectually interesting look at how female bisexuality intersects with and has influenced feminist theory. For me, it wasn’t captivating like a well-written biography; rather, it was engaging and insightful, like an in depth discussion. Baumgardner weaves personal stories with feminist history and anecdotes of feminist leaders and popular female cultural figures who’ve experienced bisexuality. She writes about how, during second wave feminism, equality in same-sex, female relationships caused these women to expect the same equality in heterosexual relationships, and thus pushed feminism’s goals of equality further ahead and also contributed to the sexual fluidity of third wave feminism in the 1990s.

In the course of her exploration of the interaction of female bisexuality and feminism, Baumgardner includes a nuanced look at her privilege and the way it fluctuates based on people’s perceptions of her sexuality. She writes about being welcomed and affirmed by the lesbian community whenever she was dating women, while also losing some access to mainstream society. However, when dating men, she writes about gaining heterosexual privilege, but also experiencing her lesbian community distancing itself from her. She laments the fact that her sexuality is presumed according to whom she is dating, when, in reality, it is intrinsic to her nature. Look Both Ways is a very thought-provoking book; I will be contemplating its themes for quite some time.