- Play title: Cock
- Author: Mike Bartlett
- Published: 2009
- Page count: 75
Cock is a comedy by Mike Bartlett. The play was first performed in London in 2009 and starred Ben Whishaw with Andrew Scott. There are a total of four characters in the work: three men and one woman. The only character who is named is John. At first, he is in a long-term relationship with a man but later begins a relationship with a woman. Bartlett focuses on the theme of identity, specifically how one defines their sexuality. The three main characters who are interlinked romantically (M, John, W) are all in their late twenties/early thirties. The playwright depicts the problems of a demographic on the tail end of Generation X and the beginning of the era of Millennials. Sexuality is depicted as a battleground because the idea of choice morphs into an obligation to choose – only then can others comfortably label John’s identity. However, the play is also comedic and has many farcical elements like the dinner party where John’s differently gendered partners fight over him. John displays an inability to define himself to the satisfaction of others, which causes their unending frustration. The play’s dialogues are naturalistic and also peppered with expletives and crude terms. Cock is a modern play and yet seems dated in light of the constant changes to the landscape of sexual politics and terminology.
Ways to access the text: reading/listening.
It is relatively simple to find an online source of Cock by Mike Bartlett. However, reading the play is not wholly rewarding because most of the dialogue is written as free-flowing, natural conversation with repetitions and an overall lack of punctuation.
I would recommend an audio version. Luckily, there is currently a full audio version of the play on YouTube entitled “Cock by Mike Bartlett”. The running time is 1hr and 23 minutes. The play is voiced by the original London cast.
Why read/listen to Cock?
The male appendage.
The play is entitled ‘cock’ for a reason! Bartlett presents an amusingly reductive approach to sexuality, i.e., one really likes cock or one doesn’t. If you’re a man then liking means gay, and for women, it means heterosexual. The play is not especially concerned with gender performance, it simply looks at sex as being like a Lego set where certain pieces fit with other pieces. What is subsequently constructed is a sexual identity but the liking/disliking of cock is the primary test. The central character, John, hasn’t yet decided what he likes (the most). The playwright satirizes society’s obsessive need to neatly categorize people like John. Bartlett’s play will resonate with an in-between generation of people who span the divide between the old, heteronormative world and the new, label-free world where queerness defies definition, categorization, or restriction.
Bartlett depicts characters and situations which are all archetypes. For example, John’s male partner, simply referred to as “M”, is a stereotype of the controlling, bitchy, camp, gay man. On the other hand, John represents the typical, indecisive ‘bisexual’ male who will take advantage of all sexual opportunities regardless of the gender of the partner. At least this is how M sees John, whom he berates with the line “nice little bit of skirt you picked up you fucking lad” (248). “F” who is M’s father, represents an older generation of men who tolerate modern society but hold vivid memories of how things used to be in the olden days. “W” is John’s girlfriend and she stands for normality in the form of marriage and children and ‘natural’ sexual desires. Regarding situations, the playwright swaps the age-old tale of two men fighting over a woman, to the more modern tale of a man being fought over by his male and female partners. When presented with such archetypal characters and situations then we are gently prompted to dismantle them and find the truth of the situation.
‘The quite reluctant, almost invisible bisexual’
On first reading Bartlett’s 2009 play, I thought it was dated. Like a newspaper whose inky pages are barely dry before the message is obsolete, Cock also appears to be old news. The reasons for such an opinion take different forms. Part of the problem is context because we live in an era where sexual and gender identities are topics in a constantly evolving debate, most recently it has been on transgender people. Yet, Bartlett presents us, by and large, with simple reversals of normal expectations in regard to a character’s sexuality and such meagre crumbs are used to garner our attention. The chief points of interest in the play are that a gay man realizes he likes sex with a woman, then he comes out as … (fill in the blank), and finally, we are shown how a man and woman fight over (drumroll) a man. A cursory reading of the play suggests that John is simply bisexual but this is hardly the great taboo that the play’s dramatic presentation suggests. Others have also called the play outdated but for different reasons, like Caleb Triscari writing for Beat who took issue with the “misogyny and transphobia present in the dialogue.” Since Cock is a comedy, Bartlett probably deserves some leeway in regard to provocative dialogue but Triscari’s article nonetheless highlights a valid issue for readers. The question remains – is this play dated and mildly offensive or does it actually offer something interesting to a current audience? Is Bartlett merely confronting a very tired and old sexual issue, namely bisexuality, but hiding the staleness of his topic with flashy, comedic fireworks? Like Peggy Lee once drolly sang, “Is that all there is?”.
One may certainly read John as being a bisexual, however, this is surprisingly not the author’s intention. This single, obstinate fact changes the significance of the play. When Bartlett was questioned on his own sexuality during an interview with the Guardian newspaper, he was apparently evasive. Bartlett went on to say that “The play [Cock] is all about those categorisations. So watch the play and then make a conclusion. But by the end you’ll hopefully go ‘that’s not the point’”. The fact that Bartlett avoids sexual categorization in real life ties in neatly with the message of the play, because as John says, “it’s about who the person is. Not man or woman but What they’re like” (297). This viewpoint corresponds with the familiar saying of “person not parts” (Swan 49) which is quoted in a book entitled Bisexuality that is edited by D. Joye Swan and Shani Habibi. The saying “points to the idea that bisexuality may be more about a refusal to exclude a gender rather than simply the inclusion of males and females in one’s field of possible attractions” (49). However, Bartlett is not using John’s motto to slyly refer to bisexual preference, not at all! When the playwright spoke to the Evening Standard newspaper and was asked– “which [play] brought you the most joy”, then he responded, “My play Cock, about fluid sexuality, seemed to chime with a lot of people and speak about their experiences”. Fluid sexuality suggests a label like queer rather than the more traditional labels of gay or bisexual. In the book, Bisexuality, the authors pose the salient question – “Is bisexuality a fluid process or a stable identity?” (Elia, Eliason, Beemyn 6) and the answer is, “There appears to be tension between work that proposes that bisexuality is a stable identity and that which proposes a more dynamic, fluid sexuality” (6). Therefore, there is not an outright contradiction between bisexual and fluid sexuality but there is certainly a notable discrepancy. If one looks specifically at sexual fluidity then as Swan writes, “Fluidity, as it is commonly conceptualized, is either the ability to bend one’s sexual orientation in certain, specific, or compelling situations or a change in one’s sexual identity all together” (51). Is this how Bartlett wishes us to see John’s sexuality and does it simplify the situation, even a little? The complexity of the terminology and the manner in which different terms have partially overlapping definitions show that Bartlett’s play enters a quite debated field. Rather than presenting old news or simply reversing sexual stereotypes, Bartlett drags his readers into the mire of poorly defined or outright contested sexualities. In this light, Cock is still exciting and new (excuse the deliberate double entendre).
To fully understand Bartlett’s play, one must arguably read it in opposition to the author’s intentions with John as a bisexual man. The argument is simple. At the end of the play, John continues to self-identify as gay but in a quite unhappy manner since he only does it out of fear of a crumbling identity, exasperation, and for relationship security. This is hardly a healthy situation. John takes protection under a label, but it’s clearly the wrong one, which proves how important labels can be! Bartlett tries to escape labels as does his play’s protagonist yet a label is shown ultimately to be unavoidable, not just for family, friends, and lovers but most importantly for the person themselves too. John never identifies as sexually fluid or pansexual so bisexual is a safe compromise. One may classify him as a queer character but that leads to separate problems. Arnold M. Zwicky explains that “some have seized on queer as an umbrella label for the ‘sexual minorities,’ taking in not only homosexuals and bisexuals but also transgender and transsexual people, tranvestites, leatherfolk [etc.] … others protest that this extension bleaches any useful meaning from the term” (23). One founders on a term like queer since it covers almost all sexualities and therefore does justice to none. To consider John as sexually fluid in accordance with Bartlett’s views is similarly to open Pandora’s box as will be explored in this essay. By reading John as a bisexual man, namely going against the grain of the play, then one gets to appreciate the depth of Bartlett’s complex presentation. Yes, the message of the play is that John is utterly confused and the labels that his two lovers and father-in-law (ish) insist he adopt are perceived by him as utterly oppressive. However, bisexual is the only logical fit for his situation but we will discover why he cannot adopt the label as his own. The explanation reveals Bartlett’s play to hold some distinction among modern plays because it tackles a blatantly obvious but usually overlooked topic.
An apt starting point for a discussion is the title of Bartlett’s play which is provocative, funny, and clever too. The basic premise for the title is the idea that one’s sexual orientation is clearly indicated by sexual attraction. In crude terms, the cock is a man’s barometer to whom he desires. It is a strong argument. D. Joye Swan comments on the practice of “Using sexual behavior to define bisexuality” (46), writing that “As many behavioral psychologists would argue, if you want to know about a person, measure their behavior. And, indeed, besides self-identity, sexual behavior is the most common measure used to define bisexuality” (46). In the play, we know that John is sexually attracted to M, confirmed by his X-rated revelations such as “I still whack off to you [M] every night” (244) and “you [M] give me a really big dick metaphorically or actually sometimes looking at you” (248). Okay, so no doubt as to John being sexually attracted to M and they have a full relationship because as John puts succinctly, “we fuck and chat and cook” (240). The complication arises when John meets W. When initially considering her offer of sex, he confesses that he has “never found women attractive” (260). Yet, John’s body responds to W and he admits – “I certainly have biological feelings, things are happening without going into details when I look at you there’s definitely something going on” (261). In time, John and W embark on a full sexual relationship. John declares his newly found heterosexual vigour with statements such as “her vagina is amazing” (296) and tells M that “sex with her is … better you have to, to know that I enjoy it more” (296). In short, Bartlett has defined John as bisexual if behaviour is the guideline.
Why then is John not named as bisexual in the play? Some answers come from the shortfalls of using behaviour as a test for sexual orientation. Swan writes as follows:
“Despite its empirical strengths, solely using behavior as a definition has serious limitations that call into question its validity as the defining measure of bisexuality. First, it imposes upon people a definition with which they may or may not identify; in a sense, a counter-problem to solely using self-identity. Second, many sexual behavior measures impose a timeline as part of the definition”.(Swan 46)
It is clear that John has only ever self-defined himself as gay. The timeline that Swan references simply means that a same-sex/other-sex partner may be from the past or a bisexual person may not yet have had sexual experiences with both sexes. How one self-identifies and sexual experience are crucially intertwined. At first John is embarrassed by his own lack of self-knowledge. For instance, W thinks he is straight and therefore he worries that, “she’ll embarrass me if I I don’t know [my sexuality]” (249). John remains unable to use the term bisexual because, as he explains, “I mean there’s never been any other women so” (293). The relative newness of his sexual experiences with a woman means that redefining himself with a different, sexual orientation label is too difficult, for now.
This brings us to Bartlett’s purpose in satirizing the old adage that all men are led by their, well, let’s just say it … cocks. He mocks such sayings since they are totally reductive of human sexuality. Swan explains the limitations of narrowly defining bisexuality:
“The final criticism of using behavior to define bisexuality is that it does not take into account the emotional aspects of intimate partner choice. In other words, it is a genital-focused definition whose ‘unitary lust conceptualization of sexual orientation’ (van Anders, 2015, p. 1178) does not take into account all the nonsexual aspects of sexuality”.(Swan 47)
Bartlett’s one-word, play title is the most genital-focused title possible. However, it is not a shallow ploy to sell theatre seats (though it probably achieved that too). Instead, the play’s title is a horribly clever ruse to drag us all into a debate on sexuality! When M is totally perplexed by John’s new sexual desire for women, he states that “sexual feelings just don’t work like that” (251), then John responds, “Maybe it’s all more complicated than anyone …” (252). Bisexuality indeed becomes far more difficult to quantify if one must depart from a mere catalogue of sexual experiences and enter instead the realm of messy emotions and self-identification. Both M and W refer to John as “the one” (243, 269) in the traditional, romantic sense and he reciprocates by expressing his love for both of them (247, 261). Thus, we have John’s sexual behaviour and emotional attachments as two of the three noted qualifications of bisexual identity. But he doesn’t identify as bi. Like it or not, words still help to mark the accepted boundaries of sexual preference. John says he’s gay, then has sex with a woman, cannot call himself bi, and what does fluid mean again?
When one enters the arena of identity politics then words are immensely important. The act of defining oneself with a label is more complex when one’s sexuality is, well, complex! The editors of the book, Queerly Phrased, refer to the work of philosopher Judith Butler when they write that “self-determination does not necessarily result from self-naming, since the names themselves have their own historicity, which precedes our use of them” (Livia, Hall 12). Labels carry baggage and much of it is unhelpful but to understand this we must look to history. For example, “The term bisexuality was not used to describe attraction to and/or sexual contact with members of both sexes until about 1915” (Elia, Eliason, Beemyn 3). Sigmund Freud made the term problematic (from a modern viewpoint) when he “proclaim[ed] that all individuals had bisexual predispositions but that at some point they would become heterosexual or homosexual through a psychological developmental process” (3). In effect, the word bisexual has a history that means it connotes a transitional phase which leads to an eventual decision. Even in modern times, “some studies find a subset of men who experience a transitional phase of calling themselves bisexual before adopting a stable identity as gay” (6). Bartlett turns this example on its head by beginning with an out, gay man and suggesting he is now turning straight. All these examples are underpinned by a fundamentally flawed understanding of bisexuality. Bartlett’s example is just very tongue in cheek.
The immense power of labelling a person is underlined by the theories of someone like Michel Foucault, because as Livia and Hall write, “For him [Foucault] it is the act of naming homosexuality as such that brings it into being” (8). This is an example of linguistic determinism and entails “the idea that categorizing creates or constitutes that which it refers to” (Livia, Hall 8). Against such a backdrop, it is no surprise that Bartlett’s protagonist John is reluctant to label himself or allow others to do so. Like a magic incantation, a simple word transforms everything. We may say that words like homosexual or heterosexual are largely well defined today but other terms are not. Arnold M. Zwicky writes that “In modern English, for example, there are an enormous number of lexical choices in the domain of sexual orientation. Virtually everyone is publicly contested” (22). This means that many labels evade a consensus on what they mean, and bisexual is one of the most contested terms of all. The yoke of an inadequate, ill-defined, or inappropriate label will only do Bartlett’s protagonist more harm. M. Lynne Murphy quotes Hutchins and Kaahumanu when she writes that “a bisexual in the gay and lesbian community is ‘a queer among queers’” (46).
John has a muddled sense of self and this shows in his inability to label his sexuality. The problem arises after John has sex with W. In light of the revelation, M newly defines John’s sexuality, saying “you are in fact yes yes not gay not that not gay” (48). John responds, saying “I’m not straight” (48), which he asserts on account of his continuing relationship with M. Since John is neither gay nor straight then bisexual would be a reasonable assumption. However, when M’s father confronts John with this solution, “You’re telling us you’re bisexual” (293) then John responds “no” (293). The only sexuality label that John ever uses is gay (266), for example when he’s breaking up with W and a declaration of homosexuality conveniently replaces any other explanation. But gay, the single label that John seemed to feel at home with, doesn’t fit either. John reveals this when speaking of how it felt to come out at university.
“John: I was part of a scene, even walking differently I think and everyone said the real me was emerging, that I’d been repressed, and so I thought I must’ve done the right thing then, but it didn’t feel like that to me. I had to make more of an effort than before, and yes I fancied men, a lot a lot but I never got why that changed anything other than who I wanted to fuck. What did it matter? Gay straight, words from the sixties made by our parents, sound so old, only invented to get rights, and we’ve got rights now so”.(Bartlett 297)
One can appreciate why John feels uncomfortable with a label that does not fully represent him. The gay label was oppressive since he had ‘to make more of an effort.’ Yet, there are inherent benefits for someone to ally themselves with a solidly defined sexual grouping. For one, John would no longer endure a barrage of questions on his orientation, and secondly, he would have membership of a clearly delineated community (‘part of a scene’).
Years later, John is asked to choose a new sexuality label so that his lovers may feel more secure in their respective relationships with him. W advises John that by making a decision to continue his relationship with her, the result will be – “Then you’ll know exactly who you are” (281) . This returns one to the contentious definition of sexuality being based on sexual object choice. It is crucial to note that “relationship status makes bisexual individuals look, at times, heterosexual, gay, or lesbian. However, when their relationship status changes, we would recognize that their sexual orientation did not change, it had always included the possibility of either same-sex or cross-sex partnerings” (Swan 52). In effect, W and M are asking John to wear a temporary mask (straight/gay) which foremost comforts them but hides John’s full sexual identity. If John identifies as bisexual in this environment, then, if anything, it sparks the competition between his lovers which he is trying to avoid. John unsurprisingly fails to define himself but his decision to stay with M is less of a choice than a capitulation. John admits, “This isn’t what I want. I just. I think this is easier” (301).
Bisexuality & its problems.
We have established a few valid reasons why John cannot identify as bisexual. From his subjective point of view, identifying as bisexual carries no obvious benefits. However, Bartlett’s play expertly shows the immense pressure John endures when he defies an easy definition. Society with a big S and also the people around John seek clarity and apparently John needs, really needs, to make a decision! He could declare himself as being sexually fluid but this brings us full-circle back to the same problem of him making a choice. Interestingly, when John compares M’s reaction to the car accident to his own predicated reaction, he says, “I’d be liquid you’d have to freeze me, solidify me before I could do or say anything you know” (240). This idea of freezing something into an identifiable, useful shape is comparable to using a universally understood label (like bisexual) to define a scatterbrained protagonist like John. Also, if John said he was sexually fluid then others would also need to solidify this into a meaning that would complement/contradict certain relationships possibilities. All the shaping, moulding, tampering, and questioning inevitably comes from external sources. It is worth considering these forces.
Disbelief in John’s sexual choices is a recognizable aspect of bi-negativity. The harshest critic is John’s gay partner M who uses insults to invalidate him. For instance, M tells John, you’re a “different person” (246), “you don’t add up” (253) and even questions the tale of heterosexual sex – “is this a lie?” (251). W is equally dismissive, saying of John’s return to M – “you went back but you’re pretending” (266). Such attitudes reflect that, “monosexual individuals (i.e., heterosexual, gay, and lesbian individuals) often do not express a belief in the veracity of bisexuality as a legitimate orientation category” (Swan 41). Also, there is the idea that John’s preference is somehow temporary, like when his mother thought he was going through “a phase” (254) or later when F bluntly tell him, “I think you need to work out what you are” (288). These criticisms concur with the belief that “bisexual individuals are either confused about their sexual orientation, temporarily experimenting, or in denial about their true gay or lesbian identity” (Dyar, Feinstein 96).
In Cock, a strict essentialist understanding of sexuality is the norm, meaning that “sexual object-choice orientation is innate and sexual identity derives from sexual object-choice” (Murphy 37). John eventually and passively submits to this view, saying, “Maybe they’re right, it’s what I’m born with, my genes, my my my nature, just men, just gay, clear” (298). He becomes a reluctant prisoner to the label of gay. John had previously been presented with a dilemma of picking men or women and this precipitated his final, dramatic non-decision. In Queerly Phrased, M. Lynne Murphy writes “the default situation is to view bisexuals as having ‘mixed’ sexuality. This is reflected in epithets (AC/DC, switch-hitter, fence-sitter) and assumed in most scalar views of sexuality” (38). We witness John’s response to such a categorization – “I don’t know, I don’t – maybe it’s not a switch, one way or the other, maybe it’s more like a stew, complicated things bubbling up” (291). There is an inherent flaw in the word bisexual because “the word “bi” would seem to imply a 50/50 split or an equal desire for people of either sex … However, most research finds this simply is not the reality of those we label or who identify as bisexual” (52). John proves this by providing quite different reasons for why he loves M and W. John cannot feel comfortable with the label of bisexual because foremost it suggests an unrealistic, binary choice. To say that bisexuals always need to choose is effectively to negate bisexuality, to make it invisible. Alfred Kinsey created the now familiar Heterosexual/Homosexual Rating Scale with ratings from 0 (exclusively heterosexual) to 6 (exclusively homosexual). This was an important advance, but “While some believe that individuals identifying as 1–5 on Kinsey’s scale are bisexuals, the most fascinating point is that bisexuality per se is never marked on the rating scale” (Elia, Eliason, Beemyn 4). In spite of our best efforts, the following quote sums up the problem of how we think about sexuality.
“In most Western societies, sexuality is constructed as a simple binary—a belief that there are “two kinds of people in the world: homosexuals and heterosexuals” (McIntosh, 1996, p. 33). These binary positions sexual identities as mutually exclusive and infers that if a person does not identify as heterosexual—the normative position—then they can naturally be assumed to be the opposite—homosexual. It also reinforces the idea that there are only two sexual identity categories to choose from. This construction erases and silences bisexuality in public and academic discourses on sexuality, as well as in wider society”.(Mclean 78)
Bartlett depicts John as making concurrent, relationship commitments to both his partners, M and W. The overlap emphasises his inability to choose so both are promised love. Yet, the centre ground is too ill defined and unstable to sustain an identity and John says, “I’m two different people with the two of you when you’re separate and now I’m in the middle and no one” (281). This somewhat odd sense of losing one’s identity is recognised in academia – “Hartman-Linck (2014) argues that while bisexual people “lose” their identity in relationships, this appropriation does not happen to gay, lesbian, or heterosexual individuals whose identities remains stable” (McLean 85). If John chooses, not matter what the choice, he denies a large element of himself.
John exists in a no man’s land because he does not fully satisfy either side of the usual dichotomy of gay/straight. M. Lynne Murphy describes bisexual as “a nonpolar label” (44) and goes on to elaborate that “In identifying with a label, one develops an identity based on contrast with another group, but to contrast oneself with more than one group simultaneously is not easy, since different criteria for comparison usually exist” (44). There is a label that does contrast with bisexual and that is monosexual which as Murphy writes, “denotes both exclusively-same-sex and exclusively-other-sex orientation. Thus, the criterion for differentiation of the groups is not sexual-object orientation but the rigidity of that orientation” (44). Homosexuals, heterosexuals, and lesbians would all fall under the heading of monosexuals. Unfortunately, this label is virtually unknown. If one labels oneself as bisexual or sexually fluid then there is really nothing to define oneself against and this causes a problem. As Murphy writes, “Choice seems to be a core concept to bisexual identity, not just in terms of choice of sexual partner, but in terms of identity, community, and lifestyle” (53). Bartlett throws a caustic glance at the idea of bisexual choice because what is often seen as unbridled sexual freedom only reveals a prison door.
Bartlett evades using the term bisexual to label John and for good reason. It’s a toxic label because it hangs a giant question mark over the head of anyone who self-identifies with it. The person’s sexuality becomes a lifelong, excruciating demand from others to choose, pick, decide! Furthermore, the term lacks the kind of assured definition, for example, as enjoyed by those who identify as heterosexuals or homosexuals which allow them to feel secure in their identities. Swan writes that “If there is one thing that sexuality researchers agree on, it is that producing a definitive definition of bisexuality is like trying to nail Jello to a wall” (37). Bartlett’s comfort with using the term fluid sexuality for his protagonist interestingly matches what sexologists were already saying in Victorian times. Swan writes that “over 150 years ago Krafft-Ebing (1886) asserted that feelings, not behavior, were the key to defining sexual orientation” (48). Such a view recognises someone’s right to fall in love with different people over time, even if those people are of different sexes. The bleak scenario that appears in Cock is the opposite of such tolerance.
“M: You’ve made a decision now.
You can’t go back.
John: I KNOW.
I’m your fucking trophy.”(Bartlett 302)
Even though fluid sexuality has the disadvantage of being without clear definition borders, this is equally its value and strength. We appreciate that a label like fluid is indeed to open Pandora’s box but only after having first understood that older, apparently simpler labels are still wholly unresolved. John may be bisexual but it’s irrelevant since the label offers him nothing but a headache and he sinks into despair, or as W says, “down down … quicksand” (295). Similar to using the word queer to self-identity, there is the same air of belligerence to self-identifying as fluid. It’s like the Goth that John admires because “what he was wearing was like fuck you to the world you know?” (257). Bartlett’s protagonist fails to ever make such a bold statement. Instead, John is shown to implode under the pressure he suffers and it’s all because he won’t conform to a neat, tidy category. In the end, he almost pleads, “I just want to be happy” (298). Bartlett’s play offers a stimulating contemplation of how society and individuals become beholden to labels. Additionally, if we the general public cannot handle the label of bisexual then what real, true gravitas do newer labels carry in society, for example, pansexual or cis or trans. Cock, though it appears a dated work at first, turns into quite a challenge to our ideas about being modern, open-minded individuals.
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Livia, Anna, and Kira Hall, editors. Queerly Phrased: Language, Gender, and Sexuality. Oxford University Press, 1997.
Livia, Anna, and Kira Hall. “‘It’s a Girl!’: Bringing Performativity Back to Linguistics.” Livia and Hall, pp. 3-20.
Murphy, M. Lynne. “The Elusive Bisexual: Social Categorization and Lexico-Semantic Change.” Livia and Hall, pp. 35-57.
Zwicky, Arnold M. “Two Lavender Issues for Linguists.” Livia and Hall, pp. 21-34.
Swan, D. Joye, and Shani Habibi. Bisexuality: Theories, Research, and Recommendations for the Invisible Sexuality. Springer International Publishing, 2018.
Elia, John P., Mickey Eliason, and Genny Beemy. “Mapping Bisexual Studies: Past and Present, and Implications for the Future.” Swan and Habibi, pp. 1-18.
Swan, D. Joye. “Models and Measures of Sexual Orientation.” Swan and Habibi, pp. 19-36.
Swan, D. Joye. “Defining Bisexuality: Challenges and Importance of and Toward a Unifying Definition.” Swan and Habibi, pp. 37-60.
McLean, Kirsten. “Bisexuality in Society.” Swan and Habibi, pp. 77-94.
Dyar, Christina and Brian A. Feinstein. “Binegativity: Attitudes Toward and Stereotypes About Bisexual Individuals.” Swan and Habibi, pp. 95-112.
Lee, Peggy. “Is That All There Is.” Capitol Records, 1969.
Thompson, Jessie. “Mike Bartlett: ‘If any art form should reflect all of society, it’s theatre.’” Evening Standard, 25 May 2018.
Triscari, Caleb. “REVIEW: Mike Bartlett’s ‘Cock’ is theatrically strong, but its themes are outdated.” Beat, 4th February 2019.