Even among the queer community,
there are those that get lost in the chaos of pink shirts, sparkles, and
rainbow flags.
The queer community at large is
very inclusive. Go to any pride parade and you’ll see it: The bears, the
twinks, the trans, the drag queens, the late in life lesbian moms. What you
won’t see are the bisexuals, the pansexuals, the questioning. Instead you’ll
see a woman holding her girlfriends hand (automatically labeled lesbians).
You’ll see a straight ally, marching calmly in the surrounding chaos.
I’ve been involved in the queer
community since the second I stepped on campus. I’ve never been in the closet,
even though I’m not very flamboyant. My boss simply thinks I’m an ally; because
I look like one, because I act like one, because she has no reason to think
otherwise. If I talk about my boyfriend, I’m automatically labeled straight.
And yet I’m not. I’m not straight.
I’m so very queer. I’ve identified as Pansexual since I was 13. I came out for
the first time when I was 14. I’ve never denied my sexuality. I’ve come out I
don’t know how many times.
I don’t go around shouting it. It
doesn’t make sense to. It’s such a fundamental part of me that I’ve never felt
the need to tell people that it won’t ever matter to. I don’t need to go around
telling people, because I’d never hide it. If I find myself attracted to
someone in a movie, I’ll say so. Regardless of their gender and regardless of
whom I’m with.
Yet I find myself feeling
invisible. I’m not denying the necessity, and the love of and for straight
ally’s. But I’m not an ally. I’m a part of the community. Just because I may
end up loving a man, doesn’t mean my love for women should be discarded. I have
just as much a reason to be here as the rest of the community.
I haven’t run into homophobia
(sexual discrimination). I’ve been very lucky in that respect. Yet that in and
of itself makes me feel as if I’m passing. I don’t want to pass. I am queer. I
am very queer.
To me, the queer community isn’t a
community because a group of outcasts are pushing together. It’s a community
because every single one of us has thought about something that is such a
deep-seated part of ourselves that most people don’t ever think about it. We’ve
thought about this to the point that we’ve discovered something that could very
well make us a target, and decided that we don’t care. Whether it’s trans, gay,
lesbian, bisexual, asexual, pansexual, an Ally, or the myriad other labels.
They are a part of the community; A very important part.
But that doesn’t stop me from
wanting to be differentiated. The queer community gets separated just as much
as the rest of the world does. And when it does, I feel like I get shoved to
the side. Whether it’s because I haven’t been through the same things that some
have been, or because they don’t see my identification, I often don’t feel like
I’m part of the community. Yet I’m definitely not straight. I don’t fit in with
the allies simply because I’m not an ally.
Thinking about this all in terms of
identity makes me upset. Because is that all we are? Boxes? Teeny tiny little
boxes that we must fit into or we’re that strange person standing on the side.
Little boxes that are based on self identification, and should never be used to
identify people because that’s just one part of who we are. It may be an
important part, but it’s still just one part.
Basically all of this was just to
say that my original point meant nothing. I worked my way around in a circle,
because identity is such a unique part of an individual that you can’t base
generalizations on it. You can’t identify every gay man or the lesbian woman,
no matter how good your “gaydar” is. There will always be someone that is
hiding in the background. Not necessarily because they want to, but because
they don’t conform to stereotypes, or don’t draw attention to themselves.
Because they don’t belong. Even among the most diverse group of people on the
planet.
