Stereotypes about gay men being hypersexual create confirmation bias that reinforces limiting beliefs.

Confirmation bias is noticing only what supports your beliefs, and dismissing what doesn’t.

The media's single story about gay men becomes the lens through which we view our worth.

This week, Wired published an article titled "Inside the Gay Tech Mafia," profiling the network of gay men in the tech industry.

Beyond documenting professional influence, the piece emphasized stereotypes about gay men, including gossip, cattiness, and drama.

The illustrations accompanying the piece depicted gay men as exaggerated stereotypes, including two limp wrists reaching out to give a handshake coming out of the zipper of their pants. As if the only way gay men greet one another is through our penises.

The visual language reduced gay men to limiting stereotypes, which struck a nerve across social media. It demonstrated how even progressive publications default to a single narrative about who gay men are.

Nigerian novelist Chimamanda Adichie gave one of my favorite talks, "The Danger of a Single Story," where she explores stereotypes and the consequences of using one narrative to define a group or person. She draws on her own experience as a woman from Nigeria attending college in the United States.

She recalls visiting Guadalajara, Mexico, and suddenly noticing people all around her simply living—walking, shopping, and dining—and feeling a wave of shame. She realized she had bought into the single story about Mexico and the border without ever questioning it.

Adichie says, "The single story creates stereotypes and the problem with stereotypes is not that they are untrue, but they are incomplete. They make one story become the only story."

I draw the same parallels with the single story of gay men. For my entire life growing up, the messages I received—consciously, unconsciously, overtly, or covertly—told me gay men were hypersexual, promiscuous, incapable of monogamy, and obsessed with youth and physical perfection. If we look at the entire story of gay men, and not the single story, we'll see the diversity of our lives and relationships—some monogamous, some open, some focused on career, some on family, some on fitness, some on art, some on none of these things.

We'll also be more willing to see how the pressure to conform to these stereotypes isn't a result of being gay. It's a result of internalizing a single story about who we're supposed to be based on a constant bombardment of stereotypical imagery in articles like the recent one in Wired.

Adichie continues, "The consequence of the single story is that it robs people of dignity. It makes our recognition of our equal humanity difficult. It emphasizes how we are different rather than how we are similar."

This week, I met with a client who is struggling to express his needs in a new relationship. His boyfriend wants an open relationship, but he doesn't. What struck me was how he framed the problem. He told me he felt something was wrong with him for not wanting an open relationship because "gay men are supposed to want sex all the time." He worried he was too conservative and not “gay enough.” He had internalized the single story so deeply that he couldn't see his desire for monogamy, or his personal values, as legitimate. Instead, he saw himself as the problem.

When we believe something based on an experience or what we've learned, we tend to gather information to confirm the belief. Take, for example, my client who internalized the narrative that gay men only need open relationships. Through a process called confirmation bias—our tendency to seek out information that confirms what we already believe while ignoring evidence that challenges it—he will notice every couple on dating apps listing themselves as "open," every gay man at a party talking about hookups, or every article about polyamory in queer spaces.

He'll even unconsciously gravitate toward dating someone who wants an open relationship, reinforcing his belief that that's what all gay men want—while completely disregarding gay couples in long-term monogamous relationships all around him.

I see these stereotypes reinforced constantly. I've been writing for publications like Elephant Journal, Psychology Today, and HuffPost, and whenever I use a platform like Unsplash to source imagery for articles, the images and categories for "gay men" or "LGBTQ community" are limited or overtly stereotypical—either hypersexualized or drinking at a party, or images only at Pride festivals. Structural homophobia keeps outdated systems at play in the collective consciousness about entire groups of people, which contributes to how those people perceive and feel about themselves.

Even major platforms dedicated to mental health and psychology can inadvertently perpetuate the single story—through limited imagery, inadequate categorization of LGBTQ-related topics, or patterns in what content gets amplified publicly. All subtle, yet pervasive ways structural homophobia and heteronormativity operate, perpetuating the single story of gay men.

The good news is that once we're aware of our confirmation bias and the single stories we've internalized, we become better equipped to challenge stereotypes. When my client started to recognize he wasn't the problem—that his values were just different from his boyfriend's—he could begin to advocate for what he actually wanted rather than conforming to what he thought gay men were supposed to want.

Challenging the single story means recognizing when we're seeing ourselves through a distorted lens and asking whether the narrative we've accepted is actually true. Gay men are not a monolith, and our relationships, desires, and values are as diverse as we are. The single story robs us of nuance and reduces what it means to be human to tired stereotypes.

We honor our full humanity by living according to our own values rather than conforming to narratives that were never ours to begin with.

© Psychology Today