queer stuff

I grew up hating the word queer. When I first started coming out of closet in 1974 or so, the only other word I knew for people like me was “gay,” and I liked the word. As I started to encounter more gay women, learning to embrace the word “lesbian” was a much greater challenge. To be honest, I hated the word, but eventually accepted that was the identity gay women wanted for themselves and who am I to disagree? The community newspaper I worked for (mostly male) changed its name from The Gay News-Telegraph to The Lesbian and Gay News-Telegraph and as additional identities emerged, finally chose to become simply The News-Telegraph.

As this community I found myself a part of grew to emcompass more and more identities, we started acronymizing our name. LGBT. LGBTQ. LGBTQA. It seemed there would be no end, so finally someone decided to use LGBTQ+, which I simply cannot abide. Not because it is too long (it is), or difficult to explain (it is), but because we may as well write LGBTQ,etc. and who wants to be swept into the dust bin of “etc.”?

All this time, we were being targeted for exclusion, ostracism, hatred, violence and even death by those who identified as, or were perceived to be straight and normal. The words most commonly hurled at all of us during these beatings were faggot, dyke and queer.

I choose to reclaim the epithet. It’s short and inclusive. It has a certain spiciness to it. Just the letter Q stands out as unique icon for all who are outside the majority and the so-called “norm” of gender and sexual identity.

As a self-proclaimed gay elder, I am loving the feel of new terms as they cross my tongue and my lips: gender fluidity; non-binary; and gender nonconforming. Such soft, gentle and loving words that I intend to use whenever possible, but when I’m in a hurry, or just want to make a quick point, expect to see, simply, queer.