How sexual identities have changed during the Covid pandemic

With more time to contemplate and re-evaluate, some people have begun to explore new sexual identities and other desires “beyond the binary.”

Lauren, 25, identified as bisexual in 2014.

This designation of her sexual identity worked well until the pandemic. With her master’s program now conducted virtually and with social events and daily transportation excluded from her schedule, Laura suddenly realized that she had more time alone to contemplate her identity.

“Having all this time and consuming a lot of information has made me reflect more on my past relationships, especially with men,” she says. “How could I not realize that every relationship I’ve had with men has been totally unsatisfying?”

The lockdown-induced isolation has offered many people the opportunity to look more deeply into certain elements of their lives and identities, whether it’s the places they live, their jobs, or their romantic and family relationships. Among these intimate changes, research indicates that people’s behavior towards sexuality has also evolved amid the pandemic.

Dating app Bumble analyzed over 4,000 users in the US, UK, Ireland, Australia and Canada in August 2020 (data analyzed by the BBC) and 21% of them said they were planning to “express their sexuality differently… with a year ago”.

Another Bumble survey showed that 14% had changed their sexual desires during the pandemic, for example opting for same-sex relationships, whereas previously they had only had relationships with people of the other gender.

And yet another survey conducted between March and July 2020 with LBTGQIA+ people by the Laboratory of Social Relations, Behaviors and Diversity at Trent University of Ontario, Canada, analyzed by the BBC, showed that 11% “felt that their ability to step out of their own. ..identity has changed due to Covid-19”. Of these, several reported that this change occurred because, during the pandemic, there was “time to be able to discover my sexual identity”.

Lauren says that, before the pandemic, she had almost no free time after working, going to school and having her social life. “I [não conseguia] dealing with major life changes and the change of identity felt like a major life change.”

But the forced slowdown offered the time she needed to reexamine her sexuality. Talking to her therapist and observing other women who previously identified as bisexual and emerged as lesbians on TikTok, she herself came to identify as a lesbian.

These “major life changes” — which were once too frightening to consider, or even non-priority — are now being scrutinized by more and more people, especially some women who have begun to question the cultural norms they’ve always embraced.

Reassessment of ‘normal patterns’

“Everyone’s lives are so busy that it’s very easy to try to escape,” according to New York-based clinical psychologist Jennifer Guttman. In other words, she explains that it is natural for people to put self-knowledge in the background.

With regard to sexuality, this means that for many people, it is simpler to define a “heteronormal” pattern of thinking without questioning the standard heterosexuality they grew up with, says Karen Blair, head of the Social Relationships, Behaviors and Diversity Lab. from Trent University.

“Much of our press and culture still sends the message that most of us will be straight,” according to Blair. Because sexuality exists on a spectrum where “many, if not most, fall somewhere in between,” she adds, there isn’t much motivation for people to question their sexuality if the “normal standards” fit enough.

But when people were able to “press the pause key during lockdown,” Guttman claims to have observed “more patients than ever before” exploring their sexual orientations. Of her 65 patients, she estimates that 10 to 12 have rethought their sexuality in that period, compared to just one client who had done the same before the pandemic.

“They all began to notice that they were feeling aimless, lost, anxious and depressed. The discomfort they felt with themselves was upsetting to them,” says Guttman. Many began to face this discomfort by assessing whether they were on the right career path, but over time, they ended up delving “way beyond work,” she said.

‘I started the straight pandemic’

The pandemic has reduced dating options for many people, but others have seen a new door opening.

Alexa, a 24-year-old based in London, has long identified as heterosexual, but had already been questioning her sexuality in her fourth year at university in New York, in the United States, before the Covid-19 pandemic. And when the pandemic took her to online dating, Alexa found it was easier to change the types of partners she was looking for — she could do it from the comfort of her own home.

In early 2021, Alexa decided to change her Tinder settings from men-only to “anyone.” The ease of change made the exploration, in some ways, appear to be low risk. She was still “not sure” of her sexual identity at the time, but when she changed her settings on the dating app, “at least the option was open,” she said.

According to Blair’s research, this experience is relatively common. With people spending more time ‘courting’ online before meeting in person due to pandemic-related restrictions, “it may have been more likely that people toyed with the idea of ​​’ticking the other alternative’ when asked who they would like to meet. “, she says. Dating someone of a different gender than people used to has become “a little more accessible”.

Both experts and date-seekers told the BBC that the media had also contributed to people rethinking their sexual orientations — including social media, podcasts and television shows — which people had been following more closely during isolation in home. Guttman even advised some of his patients to listen to podcasts and watch shows “with more LGBTQIA+ interactions” to “normalize” the retests of these identities.

At the same time, many TikTok users, such as Violet Turning (a sex educator from New York, United States), have seen an increase in the number of young women discussing their change of identification from heterosexual to lesbian, queer or bisexual during the pandemic.

“My entire feed was young women saying, ‘I got into the straight pandemic and now I’m in a lesbian relationship,'” says Turning. Some mentioned having “suppressed” these desires until the pandemic offered space to explore them, while others said they took the time to look at their history of heterosexual relationships and began to question their sexuality after learning more about the oppression of women in these contexts.

Turning considers posting this information on TikTok “legitimate for people… to explore sexuality beyond the binary.”

This was the case for Lauren, who installed TikTok during the pandemic and immediately found videos of people who, like her, had identified as bisexual before presenting themselves as lesbians. She attributes this to the increase in the number of people engaging in online conversations at a time when restrictions caused by the pandemic have greatly limited in-person social life.

There are several reasons why sexual fluidity seems to be more common among women than men. This relationship is reflected in Jennifer Guttman’s patients — of the roughly 12 patients who explored changes in their sexual orientation during the lockdown, only two were men.

Deeper insight after lockdowns?

But watching people re-examine their sexual orientations on TikTok is different from seeing changes publicly emerge in a person’s life.

When Alexa came to the conclusion that she was queer, it was “very scary,” according to her. First, because she felt she wasn’t the person she thought she was; and second, because this conclusion totally altered her vision of the future, which she previously thought would be based on living the life of a heterosexual person.

And telling others also felt scary. “I was worried about what people would think of me and I know this is internalized homophobia,” she says. She also disliked drawing attention to herself and was hesitant to label her guidance.

Guttman has observed this discomfort with labels in several patients who have rethought their guidelines over the past two years. Many felt “internal pressure” to “define a label quickly or not,” she says, even if they were still in the exploratory phase.

Lauren has come out as a lesbian to her friends and family, including her Catholic mother. “She was probably the hardest person to tell,” she said. Her identity change during the pandemic will remain long-term. She says she’s now only dating “non-binary women and people, and no one who actively identifies as a cis man.”

But it’s still hard to say whether people will maintain that level of introspection as life moves toward “normal.” Covid-19 and related restrictions have not gone away, but according to Guttman’s remarks, at least “people have continued to engage in reflection through self-help books, podcasts and therapy.”

“I’ve also noticed that any changes people made with regards to their fluidity or sexual orientation during the pandemic remained as the world opened up,” she concludes.

Read the entirety of this report (in English) in the website BBC Worklife.