Beyond "Born This Way”: Rethinking Sexuality and Fluidity

By Eva Spijkers, LMFT

We’ve all heard the phrase “I was born this way.” It’s been a powerful argument for LGBTQ+ rights, cemented in pop culture by Lady Gaga’s hit song and echoed in legal battles around the world. The logic is simple: if being gay is something inherent—something you’re born with—then it shouldn’t be up for debate. This reasoning has been incredibly effective in pushing forward legal protections and social acceptance. But is it the full picture?

For decades, scientists have tried to pin down the origins of homosexuality. From brain structure differences to prenatal hormone exposure to the mythical gay gene, researchers have been on a mission to prove that same-sex attraction is biologically hardwired. But why this obsession? As Rebecca Jordan-Young argues in Brain Storm (2010), much of this research starts with the assumption that non-heterosexuality needs an explanation, while heterosexuality is simply accepted as the natural state.

For years, we’ve been told that sexual orientation is something we’re born with—unchanging, set in stone, as if stamped into our DNA. But what if that’s only part of the story? Lisa Diamond’s research on sexual fluidity (2008, 2016) challenges the idea that sexuality is purely biological or static. Through her long-term study of women’s sexual experiences, she found that attraction doesn’t always stay in one lane. Some women who identified as straight later fell in love with women, while others who identified as lesbians developed unexpected feelings for men. Some never felt the need to claim a label at all.

If being gay or straight were purely genetic, how do we explain this? Diamond doesn’t argue that sexual orientation doesn’t exist—she’s not saying everyone is fluid. Instead, she suggests that for some people, sexuality isn’t a fixed trait but something that can shift depending on relationships, emotional bonds, and life circumstances. It’s not about choosing to be attracted to someone different, but about being open to the reality that desire doesn’t always follow a predetermined path.

This idea makes a lot of people uncomfortable. We like clear-cut categories: gay, straight, or bi. But what Diamond’s research suggests is that sexuality doesn’t always fit into neat boxes. It exists on a spectrum, and for some, it can be flexible rather than fixed. That doesn’t mean sexual fluidity is universal, but it does mean that the rigid “born this way” narrative doesn’t capture the full picture.

For most people, the line between “gay” and “straight” seems obvious. But Jane Ward’s Not Gay (2015) forces us to question just how much of our understanding of sexuality is about biology—and how much is about the stories we tell ourselves. Her research dives into a fascinating (and often overlooked) phenomenon: straight-identifying men who engage in same-sex encounters but still insist they’re heterosexual. It’s not just the occasional “drunken mistake” or a one-time experiment—Ward shows that these behaviors happen in hyper-masculine spaces like fraternities, the military, and sports teams, where men engage in homoerotic acts under the guise of bonding, hazing, or dominance rituals.

Here’s the kicker: these men don’t see their actions as “gay” because the social script they’re following allows them to separate behavior from identity. They tell themselves it’s just about power, camaraderie, or even proving their own masculinity. In other words, what’s considered “gay” or “straight” isn’t just about attraction—it’s about the rules that society sets for how sexuality is labeled and understood.

Ward’s research makes us ask: if some men can have same-sex experiences while still being accepted as straight, doesn’t that suggest that sexuality is at least partly shaped by cultural norms rather than just biology? Why is it that straight men can excuse certain same-sex encounters while queer people are expected to define their entire identity based on who they’re attracted to?

This isn’t just about men in locker rooms. It speaks to a much bigger issue—how we police sexuality, how we force people into rigid categories, and how the labels we use are often more about maintaining social order than reflecting the actual complexity of human desire. Maybe instead of trying to fit people into neat boxes of “gay” and “straight,” we should recognize that attraction, identity, and behavior don’t always align—and that’s okay.

This isn’t to say that biology doesn’t play a role in shaping attraction. But focusing solely on proving that homosexuality is inborn can have unintended consequences. It implies that being LGBTQ+ is something that needs a scientific justification, while heterosexuality remains unexamined. It also risks reinforcing the idea that if sexuality were a choice, discrimination would somehow be justified. But human rights shouldn’t depend on whether or not something is “natural.” Whether we’re born this way or not, LGBTQ+ people deserve equality simply because everyone deserves the freedom to love and express themselves without fear.

The reality is that sexuality is complex. It’s shaped by biology, yes, but also by culture, relationships, and personal experiences. Instead of endlessly searching for a single biological cause of being gay or straight, maybe we should ask why we feel the need to prove it in the first place. What if, instead of locking ourselves into rigid labels, we embraced sexuality as something flexible—something that can shift, change, and be explored without fear or shame?

Maybe it’s time to move past “born this way” and toward a world where people feel free to just be this way.