3 of 7 - Bisexual Epistemologies: A Journey from Nausea to Commitment

Bisexual Epistemologies: A Journey from Nausea to Commitment 

An occasional piece by

Serena Anderlini-D’Onofrio, PhD

For The Journal of Bisexuality’s 10^th Anniversary Issue

Hi dear readers!

This seven-in-one piece will be great fun--yours truly promises.  Find out all the ins and outs of 10 years of Bisexuality!  What does "epistemology"mean?  Big word, right?  Well, all it means is that when you're making love you're producing knowledge.  A good thing!

We follow the Introduction with The Journey, and will have five more posts.  Really revealing of all those things about bi you've always been curious about.  Why is it so good?  What can it do for you?  For the planet?  For the future?  For authentic intimacy?  It's all here, spiced with a bit of irony and critique of why we're so behind on our agenda.  What's keeping us from being more efficient.

Also arcane words you've been told have no meaning unless you got a PhD are explained--made very easy!  "Nausea," "existentialism": it's all about the chakra system--really.  Commitment?  It's not about going to jail (as in, "being committed").  But rather, it's about "being-in-action" about things.  Being the one who makes the difference!  No mysteries.  Woooooow!  Come back for more, will you?  We'll post every week, on Tuesdays.

Namaste,

Serena

3. The Journey

Solitude, community.  Separation, intimacy.  Nausea, freedom.  Nausea, a manifesto of 20^th century existentialism in Europe, is the first novel by Jean Paul Sartre, the French philosopher who was offered the Nobel Prize in Literature and had the gall to refuse it!  The novel was published in France in 1938, the fatal year when all bets were off for peace in that region.  The protagonist, Roquetin, felt nauseous from inaction in a world where love for love was disappearing, and was being replaced by fear of love, or erotophobia.  In trying to respond to the invitation to contribute, my mind went to this book.  What did Sartre’s nausea have to do with me?  Was I trapped in an existentialist dilemma like Roquetin? 

While in the throes of this, through the research networks that serve me I came across the latest report on bisexuality by the San Francisco Human Rights Commission: Bisexual Invisibility.  The Report identifies the bisexual contingent as the largest segment in the population that constitutes the LGBT community.  In this contingent, the majority are women to a much higher degree than in the general population.  The Report also establishes that biphobia, or the fear of bisexuality, runs rampant in LGBT institutions and the population they serve.  Last but not least, the Report also quantifies this invisibility in terms of US public funding earmarked for knowledge production and dissemination related to bisexuality.  Of the several millions in public funding received by the LGBT community, not one round cent was earmarked as bi in recent years. 

Of this I can give personal witness.  My period of collaboration with The Journal of Bisexuality  largely coincides with the probationary and tenured period of my academic career at the University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez.  Its internally funded research programs have been quite generous until last year.  The Journal has benefitted from UPR’s internally funded research programs a great deal.  How else would I have edited four issues?  What is more, by choosing to fund and tenure me based on my guest-edited issues, the UPR Mayaguez campus has perhaps inadvertently produced the only known full professor based at an institution of the Western Hemisphere whose tenure is significantly based on bisexuality research.  The other two academics, also women, are quite well known and respected in the US, but they are from other hemispheres.  Public US grant institutions classify Puerto Rico as UMI (United States Minor Outlaying Island), which suggests scarce awareness of the island’s population of about four million.  US-based public and private funders have turned down my recent grant proposals, predictably.  In addition, the assault on the public sector the Republican governor Fortuño has been perpetrating in the past two years has wiped out any vestige of human rights at my institution.  It is causing all international colleagues to flee, with the likely effect to plunge the university in the throes of parochialism and fear.[1]  As a scholar activist, I have publicly embraced the project of educating the Federal Government grant institutions that have invited me to resubmit.  “Biphobia is not in the public’s best interest,” I’ve claimed, “let’s use public funding more efficiently.”  The mentioned report Bisexual Invisibility: Impacts and Recommendations, has been the reference document for this.  Here, I am offering my reflection as a way to educate private funders too, on the difficulties and life-threatening risks of doing the bisexuality research we do.  Thanks Human Rights Commission!  You are saving my life too.

Fritz Klein

Feb 8, 2004, Dawn at Auroville

Anniversaries are occasions to celebrate.  And the rhetoric I needed to get started on this piece was just not channeling in.  What should I do?  With this context in mind, dear reader, perhaps it won’t be too difficult for you to empathize with my predicament.  What sustainable course of action could I choose that would correspond to authenticity?  Five years have passed from the “In Absentia” semi-trance piece.  Where was Fritz Klein?  What about his legacy?  My mind went to my extended research visit to Auroville, in Tamil Nadu, India, also funded by the UPR system in its golden years.  Auroville is an oasis of international creativity and a “city of dawn” founded in 1968 and named after its spiritual leader, decolonization activist and eclectic avatar Sri Aurobindo.  There, in 2004, I studied patterns of organization, expansion, and sustenance in intentional communities.  I noticed a certain staleness and indecisiveness.  Some would call it lack of vision.  I listened to local informants in the best cultural anthropology, cultural studies tradition.  “What’s the problem?” I asked the ones with most acumen.  “Dead guru syndrome,” they chimed, “we’re stuck between interpreting his word and allowing the vision to evolve as the world does and as he would if here.”  Ouch! 

“Perhaps this applies to my case too,” I reflected, “where is my copy of Fritz’s book?” Maybe that’s where I’ll find inspiration for the right rhetorical mode for this.  I own a copy of the second edition.  And yes, it was all there, the eclecticism, the dialogic ambiguity, the irony and sometime irreverent humor, the admixture of registers from colloquial to erudite, and the searing fearlessness.  The dead often visit me.  And when they do, a magnetic force gets me to open their books and listen to the voice that’s alive still beyond the page and is witness to a life spent in the endeavor to write what has the makings of a classic, something that speaks across time and space to new generations of readers.

---

[1] The issue of human rights in Puerto Rico has been addressed by the ACLU and Rep Luis Gutierrez, D-Illinois, among others: http://derechoalderecho.org/2011/02/14/human-rights-crisis-in-puerto-rico-aclu/

#  #  #  #  #  #  #  #  #  #  #  #  #

Yours truly appreciates your attention.  Stay tuned for more wonders.

Namaste,

Serena Anderlini-D'Onofrio, PhD

Gilf Gaia Extraordinaire

Author of Gaia and the New Politics of Love and many other books
Professor of Humanities

University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez

   

Follow us in the social media

Poly Planet GAIA Blog: http://polyplanet.blogspot.com/ 

Website: www.serenagaia.com 

Become a Fan: www.facebook.com/GaiaBlessings 

Author's Page/Lists all books: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JS1VKA 

YouTube Uploaded Videos: http://www.youtube.com/SerenaAnderlini
 

 

2 | Friday is for Poetry | Venerdi Poesia | "A Lake for the Heart | Il lago del cuore" | Luigi Anderlini

Hi lovely Earthlings!

Lago di Bracciano, photo by Ivano Pulcini

Here we come to the second episode of Friday is for Poetry.  The poem, "The Lake," from the collection, A Lake for the Heart, is by Luigi Anderlini, for yours truly's translation into English.  For you lovers of Italian--and there are many for this handsome language where so much beauty and knowledge is stored--please scroll down to the end and find the original.  The lake Luigi Anderlini was in love with is il lago di Bracciano, in the vicinity of Rome, the capital of Italy where Luigi's political career brought him.  The moving aspect of the poem is the way the lake is address like a body of water with a soul, with a will of its own, with a soul.  Echoes of Greek mythology where the forces of nature are treated like Titans whose power we humble humans must acknowledge, came to Luigi through his first wife Lidia's classical education.  You will get more of that as you come to know her through his poems.  Yours truly now leaves you with the poet's voice.

 

THE LAKE

“Your roar was but a whisper”

Eugenio Montale “Cuttlefish Bones” – “Mediterranean”

If I look at you from the crenels

of the castle above

the overhanging cliffs,

oh lake, you are in my eyes

a little bit of sky studded

in the gradually lowering valleys.

In the spring, a wide green bed grows around you.

Round like the mouth

0f the volcano you were millions of years ago,

your breath is now

light and secret,

an almost evanescent perfume.

I would like to slide

between earth and sky like your gulls

whose pale shadow is left on water

while the impalpable fluff

of time descends from on high.

On your shores today pile-dwellings like

a hundred centuries ago.  And if I appear

in the mist on the surface of your diaphanous waters

time runs backwards

and I am the animal who invents

the warmth of a home

on boards thrust in mud.

Like a vortex, funnel, or goblet

you descend deep in the abyss.

The north wind sweeps you from above.

It infuriates you, pushing you

to get rid of every impurity.

Or the east wind curls you up, mockingly.

Or the west wind flatters you, careful lover.

Amused, you vary your colors from

indigo to pale green.

The same and different always, across time you exist

and challenge it.  You challenge me too,

as in your presence

I am but an unruly, hopeless maggot.

Ploughed by your ferry’s prow

that heaves a huge whisker of water,

scratched by the keels of your boats,

annoyed by the blades of your rows,

you, lake, hang in there

impassible, and perhaps

in your turquoise summer,

enjoy the lavish colors,

the hundreds sails that bring

a festive glory to all your shores.

At night you smile at the moon’s

long, fringed dazzle, and in the dark

your undertow mumbles

its secret disquiet.

I’ve lived next to you for years.

Between the leaves your blue

arrives at my green shelter.  

I can’t see you but I measure your anger

as I listen to your mumble. 

You lay down large mats of water

on the soft, warm sand.

The curls of your wave

hit the cliff and break.

At night, your falling wave’s

deep thud upsets my heart.

I set off at dusk with my “Piaff.”

Cool form the sea, the west wind

blows into the sail.

The water swashes

around the hull. 

The shore becomes an arched sickle behind me.

A hustle and bustle of voices

follow me through the air.

Then nothing but

the wind’s soft blow into the sail,

my trip in the lake’s deep silence. 

The sunset still dazzles,

its light playing between my jib and spanker.

The hills look on in amazement.

The lake is the back of an enormous liquid animal;

The catamaran you catch a glimpse of

is just a tall shadow in the pouring light.

Silently, it ploughs the water without 

breaking the impending silence.

A voice softly pierces the darkening air

to reach you.

The words you hear are

miraculously new. 

“Ciao!  A cheerful ponentino, ha!  You still at it?  Ciao!”

You feel the hulls’ cut,

as you brush against

the other white spanker.

It’s your last rendez-vous, your last greeting

as the sun goes down behind the withered hills.

Among the thick black plants that mark

the boundary between earth and sky

A glimmer still shines.

Like enormous dinosaurs, with bristly backs

the hills chase one another.

Suddenly a yellow blaze goes off

in the shore’s circle.  A billion years’ jump

back into the past.

The foaming lava seethes

on the crater’s edges.

unconquered nature

Imposes its violent law:

“You’re just a twig in my hands”

she claims, “Then as now,

I am the one to assign destinies,

to keep a firm grip

on each and every life.”

A door closes yet again

in the sky’s vault.

The lance of time wins inexorably

and lets me know that on the shores

I see windows and city lights.

Life travels through time

slowly conquering it, raping it,

printing its marks 

everywhere and claiming them

like flags displayed in the sun.

The wind is down and the lights whiten

in the high silence.

I am alone with you,

lake, lord of the night.

The sail hangs flaccid from the mast, the water

is black with shiny tar,

far away are the stars.

It’s the time of wasted expectations

that one does not give up.

One’s frail hopes rise

the enlightenment of a decision is long to come.

Nor does resignation set in

to console one from pain.

One’s imagination is consumed

yet does not give up--the future still flickers.

The hills’ merry go round has stopped now.

Lake, for you it’s time

to rest, lie down, and steal the quiet

of endless dialogs.

Something different is preparing for me: my last

voyage into the dark.  This ultimate return

ashore feels disquieting. 

Now the wind shakes my sale again:

A light breeze that barely blows from the north.

The boat slides quietly.

Soft and persuasive,

my landing ashore is a

delicate incision on the sand. 

Lake Bracciano, Isotopes

 

Il lago

“il tuo rombo non era che un sussurro”

Montale “Ossi di seppia” – “Mediterraneo”

Se ti guardo dai merli

del castello, che sovrasta

a strapiombo la scogliera,

agli occhi miei tu, lago, sei

un po’ di cielo incastonato

nel lento degradare delle valli.

Ti cresce attorno, a primavera, un ampio letto verde.

Tondo come la bocca

del vulcano che fosti milioni di anni fa,

ora il tuo respiro

è lieve e segreto

quasi lo svaporare d’un profumo.

Tra cielo e terra vorrei

infilarmi come i tuoi gabbiani

che lasciano sull’acqua appena un’ombra

mentre scende impalpabile

– dall’alto – la lanugine del tempo.

Oggi sulle tue rive ancora palafitte come

cento secoli fa. E se nella caligine

affioro al pelo dell’acqua tua diafana

precipita il tempo all’indietro

e sono l’animale che congegna

il tepore di casa

sopra gli assi piantati nella melma.

Profondo – a vortice – come un imbuto

o un calice, tu scendi nell’abisso.

Sopra ti spazza tesa

tramontana che t’infuria e ti spinge

a liberarti d’ogni impurità.

O t’arriccia irridente

il tuo grecale o ti lusinga, accorto

amante, il ponentino.

Divertito tu vari i colori, dall’indaco

al verde pallido.

Sempre uguale e diverso, sei nel tempo

e lo sfidi. Sfidi anche me

che al tuo cospetto sono

ma indocile larva senza scampo.

Solcato dalla prua

del tuo battello

- alza grandi baffi d’acqua –

graffiato dalla chiglia

delle barche, infastidito

dalle pale dei remi,

tu, lago, te ne resti

impassibile e magari

d’estate ti godi nel tuo turchese,

lo scialo dei colori,

le cento e cento vele

glorianti a festa tutte le tue sponde.

La notte ridi al barbaglio

lungo e sfrangiato della luna

e la tua risacca borbotta

nel buio segreta inquietudine.

Da anni ormai ti vivo accanto.

Al mio rifugio verde arriva

– tra le foglie – il tuo azzurro.

Non ti vedo ma ascolto

il tuo mormorare, misuro

la tua collera: i grandi

tappeti d’acqua che stendi

nella rena morbida e calda,

l’onda arricciata che precipita

e si frange sulla scogliera

o il tonfo profondo

del flutto che s’abbatte

e che di notte mi annega

il cuore in subbuglio.

Parto al tramonto così il mio “Piaff”.

Nella vela il ponentino

soffia fresco dal mare.

Sciaborda l’acqua a circuire

limpida lo scafo. S’innarca

dietro di me, larga, la falce

della spiaggia: tramestio

di voci che m’inseguono

nell’aria. Poi non resta

che il soffice soffio del vento nella vela,

il viaggio nel silenzio denso e assorto del lago.

Barbaglia ancora il sole che tramonta,

tra randa e fiocco gioca alterna la luce.

Guardano stupefatte le colline.

Il lago è il dorso d’un enorme animale liquido

ed il catamarrano che intravedi

è ancora un’ombra alta nella luce che spiove.

Solca silente l’acqua e non incrina

il silenzio che incombe.

La voce che ti arriva

perfora tenera l’aria che imbruna.

Miracolosamente

nuove sono le parole che ascolti.

“Ciao! Allegro il ponentino! Tu vai ancora? Ciao!”

Avverti il taglio degli scafi,

dolcissimo è il fruscio

dell’alta randa bianca.

È l’ultimo incontro, l’ultimo saluto

cala il sole dietro le colline stecchite.

C’è ancora chiarore

tra le piante fitte che – nere – segnano

il confine tra cielo terra e cielo.

Enormi dinosauri le colline

che – irsuto il dorso – immote si rincorrono.

All’improvviso scatta

nel cerchio delle rive una vampata

gialla. Si torna indietro

di miliardi di anni:

alla lava che schiumando ribolle

ai bordi del cratere,

alla natura indomita

che impone violenta la sua legge:

- “Altro non siete che un fuscello” – dice–

“Nelle mie mani. Allora come oggi.

Sono io che segno i destini,

che ferma mantengo la mia presa

sulla vita di tutti e di ciascuno”.

Ma un’altra porta si chiude

di nuovo nella calotta del cielo.

Inesorabile vince la lancia del tempo

e mi dice che quelle sono luci

lampioni, finestre accese sulle rive.

È vita che viaggia nel tempo

e lenta lo conquista e lo violenta

che stampa le sue impronte

ovunque e le reclama

come grandi bandiere esposte al sole.

Caduto è il vento, altissimo è il silenzio,

si sbiancano le luci.

Sono solo con te

- lago – che sei padrone della notte.

Dall’albero pende flaccida la vela, l’acqua

è nera di catrame lucido,

lontane le stelle.

È questa l’ora delle attese vane,

in cui non ci si rassegna.

Crescono gracili le speranze

e tarda il lume delle decisioni

e la rassegnazione non arriva

a consolarti della pena.

La fantasia si consuma

ma non cede, balugina ancora il futuro.

S’è fermata attorno la giostra

delle colline. Per te – lago – è l’ora

del riposo disteso, della quiete

rubata, dei colloqui senza fine.

Altro per me si prepara: un ultimo

viaggio nel buio, un ritorno inquieto

verso l’approdo estremo.

Ed eccolo il vento che scuote la vela:

soffice, da nord, appena una brezza leggera.

Scivola tacita la barca.

L’approdo è una incisione

morbida e persuasiva,

dolcissima sulla rena.

1996

Did you enjoy the poem?  Let us know!  Yours truly appreciates your attention.  The comments box is open.

The poems will appear every Friday at 11:00 AM.  Come back!  And get your copy of A Lake for the Heart right away!

Stay tuned for more wonders.

Namaste,


Serena Anderlini-D'Onofrio, PhD

Gilf Gaia Extraordinaire

Author of Gaia and the New Politics of Love and many other books
Professor of Humanities

University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez

   

Follow us in the social media

Poly Planet GAIA Blog: http://polyplanet.blogspot.com/ 

Website: www.serenagaia.com 

Become a Fan: www.facebook.com/GaiaBlessings 

Author's Page/Lists all books: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JS1VKA 

YouTube Uploaded Videos: http://www.youtube.com/SerenaAnderlini
 

A Lake for the Heart

2 of 7 - Bisexual Epistemologies: A Journey from Nausea to Commitment

Bisexual Epistemologies: A Journey from Nausea to Commitment 

An occasional piece by

Serena Anderlini-D’Onofrio, PhD

For The Journal of Bisexuality’s 10^th Anniversary Issue

Hi dear readers!

This seven-in-one piece will be great fun--yours truly promises.  Find out all the ins and outs of 10 years of Bisexuality!  What does "epistemology"mean?  Big word, right?  Well, all it means is that when you're making love you're producing knowledge.  A good thing!

We follow the abstract with the Introduction, and will have five more posts.  Really revealing of all those things about bi you've always been curious about.  Why is it so good?  What can it do for you?  For the planet?  For the future?  For authentic intimacy?  It's all here, spiced with a bit of irony and critique of why we're so behind on our agenda.  What's keeping us from being more efficient.

Also arcane words you've been told have no meaning unless you got a PhD are explained--made very easy!  "Nausea," "existentialism": it's all about the chakra system--really.  Commitment?  It's not about going to jail (as in, "being committed").  But rather, it's about "being-in-action" about things.  Being the one who makes the difference!  No mysteries.  Woooooow!  Come back for more, will you?  We'll post every week, on Tuesdays.

Namaste,

Serena

 

2. Introduction

It is an acknowledgement to be invited to contribute to this anniversary issue.[1]  Ten Years of Bisexuality is how fellow-traveler eclectic and queer-theory pioneer David Halperin would probably call this--not to mention Nobel Laureate in Literature Gabriel Garcia Marquez, who might have preferred Ten Years of Solitude.[2]  Let this occasional piece be an opportunity to analyze the miracle of planetary consciousness and political circumstances that has been at cause of my being part of it, and reflect on what we might learn from the results.

 In 2003 I was invited to guest edit the issue that became Women and Bisexuality: A Global Perspective.  Regina Reinhardt, the journal’s associate editor, was a close collaborator of Fritz Klein, founder of the journal.  She offered the opportunity and the issue ended up collecting articles from four different continents.  In 2005 I invited myself to guest-edit an issue on the intersections of polyamory and bisexuality.  Fritz Klein initially resisted the idea.  As a seasoned good listener who would allow eloquence and a good argument to convince him, he eventually agreed.  It became Plural Loves: Designs for Bi and Poly Living, now an appreciated book in poly communities for research and practice.  Fritz Klein passed in 2006, and I remember writing, in a post-traumatic state of semi-trance from the death of a respected friend and intimate leader, “In Absentia,” a short introductory piece for the issue about to go to print.  When Jonathan Alexander came in as editor-in-chief anointed by the Fritz Klein legacy that funds this initiative, I proposed Bisexuality and Queer Theory (2010).[3]  This issue is now in production as a book that promises to bridge the discursive gap between practice and theory, communities and ivy leagues, or the body and the mind, to use shorthand from new age speak.  There were no conferences in North America in years subsequent to Klein’s passing that would offer spaces for continuance of the integration of discourses auspicated by the activist scholarship to which I devote my energies.  When the energies for one such conference jelled in England, in 2010, I was invited to keynote and sparkled the idea of the proceedings volume that became BiTopia, now in print as a journal issue.[4]

Every issue has been a labor of love devoted to the overarching commitment to the scientific invention of a world where love for love, or erotophilia, is revered.  As an activist scholar, I don’t follow trends that promise prestige.  I chart new fields that offer the opportunity to make the world a better place for those who love love as I do and are willing to stand for an inclusive amorous vision beyond binaries and divisive dualisms.  This requires a public profile that involves risk.  It also involves the effort of being beyond the lateral hostilities that often make coordination among activists, communities, advocates, and academics difficult, as well as a vision whose horizon is wider than the sum of often conflicting academic sectors and disciplines.  I hope to have kept faith to my overarching intent at all times, even though I am aware that in some cases this is just wishful thinking.

Over this period I have considered myself a participant observer and research activist of bisexuality, as an in-flux identity, a diverse community, a subculture interspersed with tropes from other, contiguous groups, and a practice of love rich with many variations.  Bisexuality is just as healthy as any other sexual orientation, Fritz Klein established with his seminal work in the mid 1980s, The Bisexual Option.  If fact, when social and cultural causes for neuroses that can accrue from it are removed, it is even healthier since it corresponds to the potential for “100 Percent Intimacy,” as indicated in the subtitle he chose for that book.[5]  Klein focused on how this applies to the individual, as in the kind of therapeutic approach that can help a bisexual person feel comfortable with her/his orientation and related practices of love. 

Today cultural discourse about the interconnection between sexuality and consciousness has developed much further.  Many of us believe that active sexual education and amorous expression, not the stillness of a couch with the “talking cure,” is where the healing begins.  We are also more aware of planetary consciousness, or the noosphere--which has been further activated by cyberspace interactivity.  In this evolving cultural context, Klein’s claim about the health of a bisexual person can be projected on the wider horizon of global ecological health, which can thrive on the expansion of human sexual fluidity and amorous inclusiveness.  In a homeopathic rhetorical turn, one might theorize bisexuality, and/or the fear thereof, as the “problem” which is the solution, the “disease” which is the cure, the “lie” which is the truth, in an algorithm with the potential to heal personal, relational, cultural, social, ecological, emotional, and economic wounds all the way back to Plato’s dualisms. 

When we look forwards we can envision bisexuality as an engine in the paradigmatic shift toward a future of sexual fluidity and amorous inclusiveness where the energies of love and life are revered.  In other words, bisexuality is the foundation of a new epistemology based on love for our hostess, third planet Gaia, and the mantle teeming with life that she has enshrined herself in to welcome the life journeys of an amazing range of interdependent beings, from humans to bacteria and everything in between.[6] 

If bisexuality is an epistemology--or at least a significant element in the new episteme toward which planetary consciousness is shifting--then we may want to go back to literature, the art of wordsmiths, to sort out what this means.

---

[1] Jonathan Alexander, the editor-in-chief whose rhetorical expertise has been so instrumental in keeping the Journal going since Fritz Klein’s death, is the one who helped me see the call to contribute to this issue as a form of recognition for my role in affirming the Klein legacy.  I owe him many of the insights of this piece.  Our conversations were very inspiring.  Another debt is owed Regina Reinhardt for also insisting.  Thank you!

[2] My references are David Halperin, One Hundred Years of Homosexuality, and its palimpsest, Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude, by now two respected classics in their own discursive ambits.

[3] Articles and Introduction available here: http://www.tandf.co.uk/journals/spissue/wjbi-si.asp, book review section available here: http://polyplanet.blogspot.com/search/label/Bisexuality%20-%20We%20Are%20Everywhere

[4] Introduction pre-published on Poly Planet Gaia, here: http://polyplanet.blogspot.com/search/label/BiTopia%3A%20Intro%20to%20BiReCon%20Proceedings%20Volume. My contribution to this issue, from my keynote, is also available on Poly Planet Gaia, here:

http://polyplanet.blogspot.com/search/label/Bisexuality%20Eros%20Gaia%3A%20Portals%20to%20the%20Arts%20of%20Loving

[5] The Bisexual Option was published in the early 1980s with the subtitle A Concept of One Hundred Percent Intimacy.  It went into its second edition in 1993. 

[6] The reference here is my own work on bisexuality and global ecological theory, in Gaia and the New Politics of Love (2009).

Yours truly appreciates your attention.  Stay tuned for more wonders.

Namaste,

Serena Anderlini-D'Onofrio, PhD

Gilf Gaia Extraordinaire

Author of Gaia and the New Politics of Love and many other books
Professor of Humanities

University of Puerto Rico, Mayaguez

   

Follow us in the social media

Poly Planet GAIA Blog: http://polyplanet.blogspot.com/ 

Website: www.serenagaia.com 

Become a Fan: www.facebook.com/GaiaBlessings 

Author's Page/Lists all books: http://www.amazon.com/-/e/B001JS1VKA 

YouTube Uploaded Videos: http://www.youtube.com/SerenaAnderlini