I’m bisexual, and I’m tired of being invisible. Tired of having to explain, defend or justify an identity that statistically makes up the largest share of the LGBTQIA+ community. Tired of seeing bi+ people erased from research, policy, funding and even queer spaces that claim to be inclusive.

Bi+ is an umbrella term for people who are attracted to more than one gender. It includes bisexual, pansexual, omnisexual, queer and other identities. I use bisexual and bi+ interchangeably throughout this piece to reflect my personal identity. That’s not to flatten the richness of the bi+ community, but to speak honestly from my own lived experience.

This piece is based on my lived experience but I’m not just speaking for myself. The data backs me up. And what it shows is clear: we are here, we are many and we are being failed systemically.

When the Australian Bureau of Statistics released its first national estimates of LGBTI+ populations in December 2024, the numbers were historic.

For the first time, we had national data confirming what many of us already suspected: over 900,000 Australians aged 16 and over identified as LGBTI+, about 4.5% of the adult population, with that figure jumping to nearly 1 in 10 among people aged 16–24​.

Globally, data paints a consistent picture: bisexuality is increasingly the majority. Pew Research found “among adults who are lesbian, gay or bisexual, 62% identify as bisexual” in 2022. And yet, bisexual people remain the most invisible.

Here in Australia, the ABS estimates that over 740,000 people are lesbian, gay, bisexual or use a different term to describe their sexual orientation. Much like global trends, the ABS found that many of those identify as bisexual and younger generations are reporting higher rates of bisexuality​.

It is worth noting that the rise in bisexuality is more pronounced in females than in males. This could reflect the added societal complexities faced by bisexual men, who often navigate the stigma of both the queer and heterosexual communities.

Despite being the statistical majority within queer demographics and becoming more visible in data, we remain misunderstood, minimised, misrepresented in media, policy, research and healthcare planning, or worse completely ignored.

Often, in our personal lives, our relationships are consistently invalidated depending on the gender of our partner and our identities are reduced to stereotypes: confused, greedy or hypersexual. We often are made to feel too straight for queer spaces but also too queer for straight ones. It’s not just emotionally exhausting. It’s dangerous.

A study published in the American Journal of Public Health found bisexual people experience mood disorders at a higher rate than both heterosexual and gay/lesbian populations. These outcomes are likely linked not to our identities, but to chronic invalidation, isolation and lack of tailored support.

The bi+ community is facing a paradox: we are statistically the largest portion of the queer community, yet remain the least likely to be out, visible or resourced.

We are:

• Less likely to be included in LGBTQIA+ funding streams, less than 1% according to the 2018 Tracking Report: Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer Grantmaking by U.S. Foundations report.
• Rarely represented in mainstream media unless portrayed through harmful tropes.
• Overlooked in mental health services and sexual health campaigns, despite being more likely to experience rape.
• Under-researched, with many large health surveys failing to disaggregate bisexual participants from other queer groups.

As a Millennial bisexual, I came of age during a time of seismic social change where visibility was increasing but so was resistance, after all marriage equality was still open for debate. For many of us, coming out as bi+ wasn’t a single moment but a recurring negotiation and it takes a toll.

Visibility is not just about pride flags or Instagram bios: it’s a public health strategy. When people are seen, counted and respected, they are more likely to access healthcare, come out safely and build meaningful community ties.

For bi+ people, visibility carries a unique weight. We often walk the line between the queer community and the rest of society: sometimes embraced, sometimes erased. This can bring unique challenges around identity, belonging and acceptance. Many bi+ people experience invisibility not just in mainstream spaces, but even within LGBTQ+ circles. In fact, it’s often the trans community that shows the most solidarity, recognising the shared experience of having your identity misunderstood, questioned or overlooked.

That’s why bi+ visibility must come with real investment in peer support, data collection, health research and meaningful media representation. Without that, visibility can feel performative rather than transformative.

We also need more bi+ people in leadership shaping policy, leading organisations and developing inclusive programs. And we need allies to stop assuming that queerness is incompatible with opposite sex relationships.

As someone who has lived through biphobia, both overt and casual, I’ve often found myself quietly opting out of spaces that were supposed to support me, like LGBTQIA+ groups that saw my straight-presenting relationships as a betrayal.

The office of your medical provider should also be a safe space. Yet too often, health professionals don’t know how to talk about bi+ people without defaulting to assumptions about promiscuity or sexual health risks.

That said, I’ve also experienced the power of being truly seen. I remember the first time a doctor simply asked how I identified, rather than assuming. They went on to offer thoughtful, evidence-based advice including information about mental health and substance use risks that are statistically higher in our community. It wasn’t stigmatising, it was supportive. It’s a critical reminder that better care comes when patients are respected from the start.

We cannot fix LGBTQIA+ health disparities without addressing the specific needs of bi+ people. That means recognising our unique experiences not just in data, but in practice. Australia has the tools. The National Action Plan for LGBTIQA+ Health and Wellbeing 2025–2035 is the first serious attempt at a coordinated response to queer health. The 2026 Census will finally give us better data on gender and sexuality. Dozens of grassroots organisations are ready to lead.

However, the success of the National Action Plan depends on community leadership. That includes bi community-controlled organisations and visibility campaigns that challenge stereotypes, educate health professionals and validate fluid identities.

We need:

• Dedicated funding for bi+ mental health and community programs.
• Disaggregated data to track bi-specific outcomes.
• Media campaigns that show bi people in all our diversity: single, partnered, celibate, religious, disabled, neurodiverse.
• Spaces that welcome us as we are, not as we’re expected to be.

And we need to use our numbers. If bi+ people are the majority, we must be loud, proud and organised. It’s time to turn visibility into voice, and voice into action.

No policy, health strategy or service design will ever be truly effective unless it meaningfully includes the voices of those it claims to serve. Lived experience is not an optional extra, it is essential. People who understand the realities of navigating healthcare, discrimination or identity from the inside bring insights that cannot be replicated by data alone. In the case of bisexual Australians, whose needs have been historically sidelined, our inclusion in decision-making is not just respectful, it’s strategic. If we are the majority, we must be part of shaping the future.

The bi+ community is not a sidebar in the story of queer liberation. We are not a phase. We are not a punchline. We are not confused.

We are hundreds of thousands of Australians (and tens of millions globally) who deserve health equity, representation and the freedom to exist without justification.

So when we talk about LGBTQIA+ health, let’s make sure bisexuality isn’t skipped over. Let’s make sure the invisible majority becomes the organising force it was always meant to be.

Because no one should have to get sick, shrink themselves or stay silent just to survive.