You're staring at a screen at 2:00 AM. Your search history is a mess of "compulsory heterosexuality" threads and TikToks about the "bi-cycle." You just want an answer. Am I lesbian or bi? It feels like if you could just find the right flowchart or the perfect quiz, the knot in your chest would finally loosen.
Labels are weird. They're meant to be tools, like a map or a compass, but often they feel more like cages or tests we’re afraid of failing. Honestly, the distinction between being a lesbian and being bisexual isn't always a clean line drawn in the sand. For many, it’s a blurry, shifting gradient.
If you’ve spent years dating men because that’s just "what people do," only to realize your feelings for women feel fundamentally different—deeper, scarier, or more "right"—you aren't alone. This isn't just about who you find hot on a movie screen. It's about how you envision your future, whose hand you want to hold at a boring grocery store, and whose presence makes you feel like you can finally breathe.
The confusion of compulsory heterosexuality
Ever heard of "comphet"? It’s short for compulsory heterosexuality, a term popularized by Adrienne Rich in her 1980 essay, Compulsory Heterosexuality and Lesbian Existence. It basically describes the way society grooms everyone to be straight by default.
Because of this, many lesbians spend years thinking they're bi. They might "choose" a male crush because he's safe or unattainable. It’s like picking a favorite flavor of gum when you don’t even like chewing gum. You pick one because everyone else has one.
But here’s the kicker: Bisexuality is also real and valid. It’s not a "pit stop" on the way to being gay. Some people genuinely feel attraction to multiple genders, and that attraction doesn't have to be a perfect 50/50 split. You could be 90% into women and 10% into men and still be bi. Or you could be a lesbian who just took a long time to clear the "straight" fog out of your eyes.
How to tell the difference?
Ask yourself: When I imagine a life with a man, does it feel like a "should" or a "want"?
Think about the quiet moments. If you’re dating a guy, do you feel like you’re performing a role? Do you find yourself "waiting" for the relationship to feel as magical as it does in the movies? Many lesbians report feeling like they were reading from a script during sex or romance with men. Conversely, bi women often feel a genuine, distinct spark with men, even if it feels different from the spark they feel with women.
Why am I lesbian or bi is such a hard question to answer
The "bi-cycle" is a real phenomenon. Many bisexual people find that their preferences swing like a pendulum. One month, they’re almost exclusively interested in women. The next, they’re focused on men or non-binary folks.
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This swing can make you feel like a liar.
If you’re in a "women-only" phase, you might think, "Oh, I was definitely a lesbian all along." Then, a man walks by or a male friend says something funny, and you feel a spark. Suddenly, you’re back to square one, wondering if you’re "faking it" for attention. You aren't. That’s just how fluid attraction works for a lot of people.
Centering women in your life
There’s a concept called "centering" that helps some people figure this out. If you are a lesbian, your romantic and sexual world is centered entirely on women (and often non-binary people). Men simply aren't in the equation.
If you’re bi, men are still in the picture, even if they’re in the background.
Consider your "ideal" world. If gender didn't matter to society at all, who would you gravitate toward? Some people find that while they can be attracted to men, they only want to build a life, a home, and a family with a woman. This is sometimes called being "homoromantic." You might be bisexual but homoromantic, which means you have sexual feelings for multiple genders but only want to date women.
The role of trauma and "man-hating" myths
Let’s get one thing straight: You cannot "become" a lesbian because you had a bad experience with a man. That’s a tired, homophobic trope.
Trauma can complicate how we experience desire, sure. It can make us feel unsafe. But it doesn't invent attraction where there is none. If you find yourself relieved at the idea of never dating a man again, ask yourself if that relief comes from a lack of interest or a presence of fear.
Lesbians don't "hate" men (well, no more than anyone else living under patriarchy does). They are simply indifferent to them romantically. If the thought of a "man-free" future feels like a weight being lifted off your shoulders, that’s a pretty big clue.
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Realities of the "Gold Star" culture
There’s this toxic idea in some corners of the queer community called the "Gold Star Lesbian"—someone who has never slept with a man.
It’s nonsense.
Your past doesn't invalidate your present. Having dated men, married men, or had kids with men doesn't "disqualify" you from being a lesbian. Many of the most iconic lesbian activists in history had previous lives with men. Sexuality is a journey of discovery, not a state of being you’re born knowing perfectly.
If you’re worried that you "can't" be a lesbian because you once liked a boyfriend in high school, take a breath. You're allowed to grow. You're allowed to change your mind.
The "Split Attraction" Model
Sometimes, the labels feel messy because our brains and our bodies aren't on the same page. The Split Attraction Model (SAM) suggests that romantic attraction and sexual attraction can be different things.
- Sexual Attraction: Who you want to get physical with.
- Romantic Attraction: Who you want to fall in love with and buy a house with.
You might find that you are sexually attracted to men and women (bisexual) but only romantically attracted to women (lesbian-leaning or homoromantic). This is why the question "am I lesbian or bi" feels so impossible—because you might be a little bit of both depending on which "layer" of attraction you're looking at.
Practical steps to find your truth
Stop trying to solve this like a math equation. You won't find the answer in a textbook. You find it in your gut.
Try on the labels in private. Spend a week identifying as a lesbian in your own head. Tell yourself, "I am a lesbian." How does it feel? Does it feel like a relief? Or does it feel like you’re leaving a part of yourself behind?
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The next week, try on the "bisexual" or "queer" label. See if that feels more spacious and honest.
- Read the Lesbian Manifesto. Many women find that reading the "Am I a Lesbian?" masterdoc (a famous internet document) helps them identify patterns of comphet they never noticed before.
- Look at your patterns. Do you only like fictional men or celebrities? This is often a sign of "distanced" attraction—you like the idea of them because they aren't real or reachable, which is a common experience for lesbians.
- Talk to queer people. Not just online, but in person if you can. Hearing how other people describe their "aha" moments can be a mirror for your own.
- Give yourself permission to be wrong. You can call yourself a lesbian today and realize you're bi in three years. Or vice versa. The "Identity Police" aren't going to come to your house and arrest you.
The nuance of "Queer" as a safety net
If the choice between "lesbian" and "bi" feels too restrictive, there is always the word queer.
It’s an umbrella. It’s a way of saying "I’m not straight" without having to specify exactly where the boundaries of your attraction lie. For many, this is the most honest label because it allows for growth and change. It acknowledges that humans are complex and that our hearts don't always follow a straight line (pun intended).
Don't rush it. The world wants you to pick a team and stay there, but your identity is for you, not for the people watching you. Whether you land on lesbian, bisexual, pansexual, or just "me," you are valid. The confusion you feel right now isn't a sign that you're "faking it"—it’s a sign that you’re doing the hard, honest work of figuring out who you really are.
Actionable insights for your journey
Start a "vibe" journal. Instead of writing about your day, write about your sparks. When did you feel a flutter in your stomach this week? Was it a person in a coffee shop? A character in a book? A specific interaction?
Look for the "performance" versus the "reality." Note when you feel like you are acting out a role and when you feel like you are truly yourself.
Lastly, seek out media created by and for queer women. Watch But I'm a Cheerleader, read Stone Butch Blues, or listen to podcasts like Dykeing Out. Immersing yourself in the culture can help you see where you "fit" more clearly than any quiz ever could. Your answer isn't in a search engine; it's in the way you feel when you stop trying to please everyone else and start listening to yourself.