Sabby Jey - actress, model, reality TV star and social media influencer. Photo / Shelton Leong
Sabby Jey is a New Zealand-Sri Lankan actress, model, reality TV star and social media influencer
OPINION
I remember the first time I realised I liked a girl.
The femininity, the long hair, the sweet smell of French perfume and the glossy pouting lips. Itfelt good and exciting, but it was compounded with confusion.
You see, I am a Kiwi-born South Asian; I was brought up in an anti-queer, conservative Christian family. Good girls did as they were told, went to university, got a good job and married a man.
And I did like guys, as I was “supposed to”, BUT I also liked girls — very feminine, lipstick girls. I felt different, but was I really that different? Because of this, it was just easier to keep dating men while keeping things with women swept under the rug.
During my early 20s, I worked on breaking away from my culture and upbringing in many areas of my life. I moved out of home, pursued a non-conventional career, and started sharing things on social media.
I had broken the traditional mould in so many ways, but something was lurking under the surface: My sexuality. It felt easier to keep it a secret because I did like men, after all.
Two years ago, it got to a point where I just didn’t want to hide it anymore. I was ready for the world to know, just not my parents.
So when I was cast as a lead for the dating show Ex Best Thing on TV2, the producers (like producers do) encouraged me to date women on national TV.
It was terrifying, but it felt right. Here was my opportunity to declare my sexuality publicly.
My family had not watched any of my film or TV work in the past, so I naively assumed the show would fly right under their radar. Well… it didn’t.
They saw it, and their way of dealing with it was ignoring it for months before having one awkward conversation on the matter and then putting it behind us like it never happened.
I also did not have any reactions from friends, positive or negative.
My coming out was underwhelming. I am in no way complaining, I have such empathy for those who don’t have such an experience; it’s more that I really expected some backlash.
Was being a bisexual woman not really that “big a deal”? Was it not considered that gay?
Now that I was out and proud, I sought guidance from those within the LGBTQIA+ community. I was so excited to attend my first Pride March last year and finally become an official member of the rainbow community.
But during the march, I felt more out of place than ever. I didn’t understand or relate to the chants and began to wonder where exactly I fit.
So I threw myself more into the community. And ignorance could feel quite intimidating at times. I regularly fumbled with pronouns and would profusely apologise.
I was unable to contribute to conversations on current trending queer issues. I felt like I wasn’t quite gay enough, but then I was not straight enough either. It was at this point I made the conscious choice to be bisexual on my terms. I could be an ally.
The road as a bisexual is very much a winding one, and I began to notice that my dating preferences as a bisexual woman were nuanced, too.
I am emotionally attracted to straight masculine men and more sexually attracted to feminine or ‘lipstick’ women, which, as a lipstick myself, presented challenges.
I struggled to look past the traditional masculine/feminine roles in heteronormative relationships and how that translates into a seamless dating dynamic between two lipstick women. It presents so many issues, like when splitting a bill, do we go 50-50?
If not, who pays? Who gets the princess treatment?
I have assumed a more masculine provider role when dating women, but when dating men, I could be in my feminine energy and have a more traditional role, which I prefer.
Dating a woman was also something my family and culture would take issue with, despite everyone knowing about my sexuality, so it also felt too hard.
It really only hit me after several dates with women ended up in me picking them up and paying all the time. Not that they expected it, but I naturally ended up taking this role and I found that hard.
And this took me right back to square one: Dating men because it was easier.
I am not going to be hard on myself for this, and I know things may change.
But right now, being a bisexual woman who chooses to date men makes the most sense for me. I can’t run away from my upbringing, and there’s a core part of me that does feel comfortable with my conservative family.
Maybe I still need their approval on some level?
I do feel guilty for going back to the exact life I had before coming out.
But it has also given me a high level of empathy for those who don’t have this experience.
They need advocacy; they need allies. A straight-passing bisexual woman like myself doesn’t.
So perhaps my role all along was to rally and support those who couldn’t hide themselves as easily as I could.