“

Sexuality is a spectrum.” 
I’m sure you’ve heard this 
sentiment 
many 
times 

before, as it’s become the poster 
slogan for a progressive view on 
what it means to be queer. As 
younger populations continue 
to explore queerness, our pre-
established binary definitions 
of attraction begin to blend 
into a continuum of different 
levels of sexual, romantic and 
gendered attraction.

As Generation Z (Gen Z) 

becomes more accepting and 
open to these identities, we 
implicitly hold expectations for 
what a person of each sexual 
identity should look and act 
like, which often align with 
how masculine and feminine 
we believe a person should be. 
Society expects a gay man to 
be feminine, a lesbian women 
to be masculine and a bisexual, 
pansexual or queer person to be 
somewhere right in the middle. 
Consequently, the vice versa of 
this is true, where we assume 
feminine men and masculine 

women must fall in to their 
implied queer identities. 

Notably, 
many 
of 
our 

expectations around queerness 
still 
revolve 
around 
the 

pre-concieved 
notion 
that 

everyone must be attracted 
to men. Bisexual women in 
relationships with men are 
assumed to be straight and 
in search of attention, and 
therefore are less comfortable 
coming out. On the other hand, 
bisexual men are assumed to 
be gay and too afraid to admit 
it. The inherent assumption 
that 
all 
people 
must 
be 

attracted to men stems from 
the androcentric structure of 
society and its incessant need 
for men to be idolized. Even 
male heterosexuality revolves 
around a constant need to 
“perform,” 
for, 
or 
compete 

with, other men. In the same 
way a high body count (a more 
recent phrase for number of 
sexual partners) is villainized 
in women, it becomes a token 
that men will use to compete 
with their friends. For women, 
decisions such as choosing 
to wear makeup or revealing 
clothing are assumed to be for 

the purpose of male attention, 
while liking things such as 
sports and cars have been 
recently deemed “pick me” 
activities, a new phrase used to 
describe situations where girls 
use more historically masculine 
interests to get attention from 
guys.

Young women being accused 

of hopping on the “bisexuality 
trend” 
for 
attention 
is 
a 

continuation of the expectation 
that anything women do is for 
men. “Alt girls” (or alternative 
girls) became a trend on TikTok 
in 2020, where mainly bisexual 
women 
would 
wear 
darker 

makeup and unique clothing. 
As people drew correlation 
between 
“alt 
girls” 
and 

bisexual girls, the trend-like 
nature of the former creates an 
association between bisexuality 
and trends. If men do validate a 
feminine presenting bisexual or 
lesbian, it’s often in the context 
of sexualization, such as in 
porn. Queer women are mainly 
represented in a sexual context 
in media, harming the overall 
image of queer and bisexual 
women, and minimizing it to 
sex. 

People will justify their claim 

that bisexuality is a “trend” by 
discussing how a large number 
of 
youth, 
especially 
young 

women, all began to come out 
at around the same time. From 
2015-2019, the number of non-
straight 
identifying 
15- 
to 

17-year-olds grew from 8.3% 
to 11.7%; for girls, this number 
went from 12.2% to 17.8%, 
approximately a 46% increase. 
This rise has led many adults, 
straight youth and even queer 
youth to question how valid the 
newest members of the bisexual 
community 
are. 
What 
this 

line of questioning threatens, 
however, is the comfort people 
find in having a community. A 
2022 poll from Gallup showed 
that 62% of respondents were 
somewhat or very satisfied 
with how lesbians and gays are 
accepted in the U.S., up from 
55% in 2021. More people aren’t 
“becoming” 
queer, 
they’re 

instead finding the bravery and 
communities they need to feel 
safe coming out.

Despite 
the 
increase 

in 
progressive 
thought 

surrounding queerness within 
our society, the conflict between 

the 
androcentric 
structure 

and the rise in population of 
LGBTQ+ youth leaves the queer 
community, 
and 
specifically 

the bisexual and pansexual 
communities, with the need to 
“prove” their sexuality. When 
I originally came to terms with 
my own bisexuality, I knew I 
wouldn’t come out until I was 
dating a girl. As a feminine-
presenting girl who had only 
been 
romantically 
involved 

with men in the past, I felt as 
though my sexuality wouldn’t 
be taken seriously unless I had 
something to show for it. Even 
now, as I discuss my sexuality 
with others, it has become 
compulsory to me to include 
the fact that I had a girlfriend 
in the past, in order to provide a 
sort of ethos within the subject 
of sexuality. 

However, as I’ve developed 

more 
relationships 
with 

women, my friends make little 
quips of “I feel like you’re 
actually just a lesbian.” In 
response, I’ve felt pressured 
to reign in my attraction to 
women 
and 
develop 
more 

relationships with men in order 
to prove and authenticate my 

sexuality. Many of my sexual 
and romantic decisions since 
coming out have been dictated 
by society’s view of the validity 
of my sexuality, instead of 
being driven by the freedom to 
simply be attracted to who I’m 
attracted to. 

The 
future 
of 
sexuality 

and the queer identity as a 
whole requires us to remove 
expectations. Being queer is not 
a personality trait, as there is no 
one personality that aligns with 
queerness or any queer identity. 
Instead, it is a part of one’s 
identity that can present itself in 
any way. We have to continue to 
push for nuanced concepts in the 
conversation on sexuality, such 
as bisexual men or women who 
come out and continue to date 
members of the opposite gender, 
or bisexual men and women 
who “seem straight” due to their 
hobbies, history or personality. 
The entire point of coming out 
as bisexual is to finally have the 
freedom to explore whatever 
relationships you want, and 
we have to stop limiting that 
freedom simply because we 
have certain expectations of 
what bisexuality looks like.

T

he Michigan winter. 
It’s a phenomenon I 
had grown tired of 

hearing about in the weeks 
leading up to my first semester 
at the University. It was always 
the first thing my friends and 
relatives in India asked me 
about when I mentioned this 
school, because even halfway 
across the world, tales of the 
Midwest winter are common 
knowledge. 
Although 
it 

annoyed me, I understood 
their concern. How was a 
boy who has lived all his life 
in a city that has never seen 
snow going to survive in Ann 
Arbor? I was afraid, but I 
always comforted myself with 
one thought: how bad could it 
possibly be?

It 
was 
bad. 
The 
first 

discovery, which came as a 
massive 
surprise, 
was 
the 

approximate time period of 
this “winter.” I had asked 
around, and most people said 
that it gets really cold by 
December and stays that way 
until February. What I did not 
realize, however, is that “really 
cold” is a relative concept. As 
early as October, my resolve 
started to crumble. The lower 
temperatures 
coupled 
with 

seemingly unyielding winds 
made for a duo that I was not 
prepared for. After less than 
a week, I considered opening 
up my collection of winter 
clothes. That was when I made 
my second discovery.

The 
cold 
might 
be 

unbearable, but it’s your ego 
that kills you. I had promised 
myself very early that if other 
people were not wearing a 
winter 
jacket, 
I 
wouldn’t 

either. If people were walking 
out of Starbucks or M-36 
holding a cup of coffee with 
their bare hands, I would not 
be wearing any gloves either. 
My goal was to not put on a 
single piece of winter clothing 
until the first of November. 
I succeeded, but at great 
personal cost. On every walk 
to the Michigan Union and 
every bike ride across the Diag, 
I remember being unable to 
feel my hands and desperately 
trying to cover up every inch 
of my body to prevent any wind 
from reaching it. Every step in 
the freezing cold of Ann Arbor 
was a reminder of the worried 
look on my parents’ faces 
when I said I wanted to go 
to Michigan and that I’d deal 
with the cold. The addition of 
a thick winter jacket and boots 
to my set of winter clothes 
helped, but it couldn’t keep 
up with the rapidly falling 
temperatures.

Over the last week, as we 

collectively felt the mercy 
of the weather gods (albeit 

only temporarily, it seems) 
I thought back to the peak 
winter months and felt a sense 
of victory. I had, for the most 
part, made it through my 
first 
winter. 
Nevertheless, 

I couldn’t deny the effect 
weeks of cloudy skies and 
shorter days had had on me. 
From a very young age, we are 
surrounded by the idea that 
winter is associated with more 
negative themes — sadness, 
loneliness and sometimes even 
death. Recurring themes in 
poems I was taught during my 
middle school and high school 
years — even the greats often 
resorted to this archetype. It 
is also an idea many echo when 
they speak of the adverse 
effects colder weather have 
on college students, and to a 
certain extent, I agree with 
this sentiment.

From 
being 
unable 
to 

play outdoor sports to being 
discouraged 
from 
leaving 

the house at all, the harsh 
winters 
of 
Michigan 
did 

curb some of my happiness. 
I began to notice that on the 
rare occasions when we had 
a warmer day, I would see 
a drastic upturn in not only 
my mood, but the entire vibe 
on campus. This past week 
has been a testament to that. 
In what couldn’t have been 
a better buildup to the St. 
Patrick’s 
day 
celebrations, 

seeing people in shorts and 
t-shirts, gathering in masses 
at Elbel Field or the Diag, was 
a sight for sore eyes. It might 
not be spring yet, but it feels 
like the first few weeks of 
the fall semester, which were 
some of my most memorable 
on this campus. That being 
said, I firmly believe that the 
Michigan winter is part of the 
experience. It is a part of the 
lore of this great school and 
if nothing else, it has given 
me a newfound appreciation 
for the sun. I might not have 
known it before, but boy, oh 
boy do I love the sun. 

That is, of course, until 

I’m back in India for summer 
break and wishing that I was 
sipping some hot chocolate in 
snowy Ann Arbor.

A

n 
unavoidable 

consequence 
of 
the 

war in Ukraine will be 

shifting energy supply chains 
globally. 
European 
Union 

member 
states 
dependent 

on Russian oil have already 
voiced a strong desire to 
establish 
better 
energy 

security. In the short-term, 
that 
will 
require 
burning 

greater quantities of fossil 
fuels. European consumption 
of imported natural gas and 
coal are expected to increase 
as EU imports of Russian 
oil are slowly phased out 
by 2027. In the long-term, 
however, the EU has indicated 
that renewable energy will 
fuel energy security on the 
Continent. 

America’s relationship to 

Russian oil is less precarious 
than that of our neighbors 
across 
the 
Atlantic. 
The 

war has caused gas prices 
to skyrocket — which often 
harms low income Americans 
the most — but has not 
endangered 
our 
long-term 

energy 
supply. 
We 
only 

imported 8% of our crude 
oil from Russia in the year 
preceding Biden’s import ban 
and, furthermore, we are net 
exporters of energy. Even 
so, the U.S. attitude toward 
action 
abroad 
for 
greater 

renewable 
energy 
should 

not be indifference. America 

ought to seriously evaluate 
whether we are on track to 
successfully 
transition 
to 

renewable energy alongside 
the rest of the world. 

Aggressive 
climate 

policy is a top priority for 
the 
Biden 
administration. 

Last year, President Biden 
announced a plan to decrease 
emissions by 50% (from 2005 
levels) by 2030. To achieve 
this 
ambitious 
goal, 
rapid 

investment 
in 
solar, 
wind 

and other renewables will 
be necessary on a massive 
scale. 
At 
the 
same 
time, 

Biden’s industrial policy — 
protecting American industry 
from 
foreign 
competitors 

and 
bringing 
industrial 

plants back to America — has 
the 
potential 
to 
frustrate 

his climate goals if it is not 
executed strategically. 

Policy decisions affecting 

the 
solar 
power 
industry 

illustrate the tension between 
the interests of labor and 
swift climate policy. President 
Biden wants a rapid shift 
to clean energy, but at the 
same time wants American 
solar manufacturers to play 
a major role in that shift. To 
demonstrate his commitment 
to 
American 
labor, 
Biden 

extended 
and 
amplified 

Trump-era “Buy American” 
economic policies aimed at 
protecting 
manufacturing 

jobs, including jobs in the 
solar 
power 
industry. 
In 

practice, that has meant the 
continuation of tariffs levied 

on solar panel components 
imported from China. 

Because 
Chinese 

polysilicon, 
a 
major 

component of solar panels, is 
much cheaper, tariffs imposed 
on Chinese imports lead to 
increased 
costs 
for 
firms 

installing solar panel fields 
and slow down the pace of 
increasing 
America’s 
solar 

power capacity. Because of 
this complication, tariffs of 
this nature are generally not 
popular among economists. 
However, President Biden’s 
(and Trump’s) concern about 
the economic well-being of 
manufacturing workers is not 
misplaced, only misdirected. 
Advocates of the transition 
to solar tend to make the 
argument that because the 
burgeoning 
industry 
will 

create jobs, those working 
in fossil fuels stand to lose 
nothing 
in 
the 
transition. 

Though the “more jobs” claim 
is correct, the second — and 
arguably more important — 
claim that solar jobs are just 
as good is not. 

The American Federation 

of Labor and Congress of 
Industrial 
Organizations, 

or AFL-CIO, a prominent 
U.S. labor union, came out 
against 
the 
Green 
New 

Deal when it was pitched in 
2019. Although other unions 
supported the bill, AFL-CIO’s 
leader, 
Richard 
Trumka, 

was concerned about what 
the 
legislation 
as 
written 

would do to the livelihoods of 

fossil fuel workers. Evidence 
suggests 
his 
worry 
was 

warranted. 
Currently, 
the 

average 
compensation 
for 

California fossil fuel workers 
is 
$130,000 
(including 

benefits), 
while 
the 
same 

figure 
for 
solar 
power 

workers is roughly $86,000. 
Comparing wages across these 
industries nationally tells a 
similar story, with oil workers 
making roughly $27 for every 
hour worked, compared to 
an average $24 an hour wage 
for solar workers. Without 
labor laws that strengthen 
the position of labor unions 
in the clean energy industry, 
a hasty transition to solar 
energy would give hundreds 
of thousands of workers an 
effective pay cut. 

Opening up trade with China 

is essential to the future of 
American renewable energy. 
China has long been dominant 
in the race to produce solar 
power; continuing to protect 
American solar manufacturers 
is a noble, though idealistic, 
project. Even so, the Biden 
administration must work to 
ensure that the interests of the 
new generation of workers in 
the clean energy industry are 
not ignored by providing the 
legal backing necessary for 
unionization. The transition 
to green energy will not be 
painless, but it is inevitable. 
Striking 
a 
better 
balance 

between rapid development 
and fair labor conditions must 
become part of that transition. 

The Michigan Daily — michigandaily.com
Opinion
Wednesday, March 30, 2022 — 9

Solar power, unions and the need for a 
new clean energy paradigm

ALEX YEE

Opinion Columnist

Design by Anya Singh, Opinion Cartoonist
Our crumbling world

The snow and the sun: 
My first Michigan winter

RUSHABH SHAH
Opinion Columnist

Stop asking bisexuals to prove their identity

CLAUDIA FLYNN

Opinion Columnist


believe that 
the Michigan 


