queer-reflections

Aro and ace activism is healthcare reform, so that no one needs to rely on a spouse for health insurance, so that healthcare is available to everybody regardless of income, so that no one’s lived experiences or basic dignity are dismissed or overridden by doctors

Aro and ace activism is well-funded and expansive public transit, so that you don’t need to have someone on hand to drive you places if you are incapacitated, so that you don’t have to pay for an ambulance if you need to get to the hospital quickly

Aro and ace activism is disability and elder care services, so that no one needs a spouse to care for them, so that no one needs children to care for them, so that marriage is not a bind for disabled people, so that people on disability who want to and can live alone can

Aro and ace activism is community-building, it’s public events, it’s free social activities, it’s mutual aid, it’s activities that bring community members together without socializing relying on just a romantic partner

Aro and ace activism is developing a culture of believing when people tell you who they are and what they want rather than assuming you know them better than they know themselves

When I told my grandmother’s friend group about aromanticism most of them didn’t understand, they were polite and asked a lot of questions, some didn’t really believe it bc well, people in their 70s are rarely that open minded; but there was this one lady that looked pensive and when the others quieted down she asked me if the name for it had existed long, and when I said no she told me about her best friend:

A 74 year old woman who had married young, back when my country was in a fascist dictatorship and women couldn’t have/make their own money, so their only hope was marriage. They lived together years, and I’m not sure if they had children, but as soon as it was legal for her to divorce she did, and, living in a small town, she faced her neighbours’ questions and judgement: Was he a bad husband? Did he cheat or treat her badly? Was it the other way around? He wasn’t “man enough”? And many less nice things.

Her answer to all of them was that her now ex husband was a wonderful man, and that they’d remain friends as they’d always been, because on her side that’s all there could be, because she didn’t find it in herself to love, not him nor any man or woman, but still cared deeply for him as she did for all her friends.

She now lives happily in retirement, traveling around the country with her friends, ex husband included, and also has a cat.

When the lady told me this she sounded doubtful at first, afraid she was appropiating but when I told her that the experience sounded like those on our community she looked so happy, and kindly asked me to write down the terms and what they mean on a paper so she could show her friend when she went back home, tell her that she wasn’t alone that there were more people who had united and have a name and are fighting to be recognised.

That day I realised something: That there are more of us than we know about, that in this age of information many of the older generation were still estranged from the net and among them there are aromantic people too. And that for those people who have probably felt other and wrong most of their lives, the knowledge of the label and community, the confirmed existence of others like them that feel it’s important enough to recognise that feeling or lack thereof, can be just as healing, reassuring and important as it was for us, the newer generation who stumbled upon the term on the internet when we were teens.

The internet is great, of course, but if we want to find the older aros de have to look for them, because they most surely haven’t found themselves in that label yet either. And to do so we must share our terms and experiences and shout to the world that we exist outside the screens, that we are real. I know it can be risky or even dangerous but if we wish to find them, and hopefully make them a bit happier, it’s all we can do.

I always set up two frames at the table our group hosts over lunch in the cafeteria. Each frame has 8 of the most commonly used queer identity pride flags with labels beneath them (16 total). What ends up happening is this: some people shy away, some shyly approach, and others enthusiastically come over as allies and the handful of out fellow queer peers. Everyone who makes it to the table generally has their eyes drawn to the framed pride flags first because they’re so colourful, they’re standing up, and they recognize some of the “main” flag’s variations.

I have a lot of info in various formats to ask about, but what are my most common questions, every single year?

“What’s asexuality?” and “What’s aromanticism?”

And almost every single time I can remember answering that question, I see either 1) rapid mental calculations now exploding in their mind 2) a long, pensive stare at the ace or aro pride flags as they ask sort of distantly “A term for that exists?” Or 3) curiosity-animorphing-into-deer-in-the-headlights

100% of those people have grabbed one of my “identify definitions and where to find more info and communities related to them” printouts then ran away (at various speeds lol, some are in their 30’s but others are indeed in their 50’s and 60’s!)

And each time I’m just like yeah that makes sense that these people I particularly admire for their passion for their job/cool life stories of adventuring with friends/amazing technical and/or artistic skills share a large overlapping Venn diagram with the “oh I was not expecting to be in this aro/ace picture” people at our pride table haha

(for the nuance, I am never going to diagnose someone else’s identities. I am simply open to the fact that there are many, many people of the older generations are queer in some way but have never heard of identities beyond gay, lesbian, and now bc of the media, trans people)

She was quiet for so long that I lifted up my head to see what was wrong, and she looked like she’d been struck by lightning. And finally she said, “That. I’M that. That’s what I am, that’s ME.” and I got really choked up and said, yeah. Yeah, that is you.

Once, I got an email from an 80 year old man who said he’d seen my book in the library. He said he was so embarrassed as he checked it out because he felt like there was a spotlight shining on him and the librarian might say something… But he was brave, and he took it home and read it and LOVED IT. And then he told me that he was gay, that he’d been closeted for his entire life and he’d never told ANYONE ELSE BEFORE because it had been so dangerous when he was young, and he’d been so afraid that someone would find out. He said he’d been so scared that he’d never even dared to kiss another man. And he said that my book gave him a little taste of what real love might feel like – he called it a ray of light in the dark. (Obviously I ugly-cried for an hour and wrote him back with a BUNCH MORE recs for gay romance novels and all the love and encouragement and emotion I had in me. I wanted so badly to talk to him more, to have a connection with him, but I think he was too afraid for more than just that little thread of a lifeline between us. I check the obituaries for his name once a year or so, just because I so badly want to know that he’s still alive.)

They’re out there–there are older queers of all stripes. But we have to remember that times were different in their day, and so many of them are still so, so scared. Of course they’re quiet. Of course you have to go looking for them. Of course they probably won’t tell you anything until you’ve earned their trust.

I don't mean sexualizing us or watching trans porn.

I don't mean treating trans mascs like "uwu soft baby boy" and trans femmes as "yass queen girl boss".

I don't mean expecting praise for using the right pronouns and using incorrect ones when "they're a bad trans person".

I mean ACTUAL SUPPORT.

This is incredibly alarming. Even agreeing to be labeled as your birth sex is not sufficient. They want to deny trans people the ability to leave the country. Any possible reason for this is horrifying.

“Trans allies, hang trans flags outside your house, apartment, or attach it to an indoor window. encourage your local businesses to do the same. Wear trans flag pins on your coats/ clothes. related, this is the moment for all y’all to add solidarity pronouns to your email signatures. Add a /they everywhere you can. this also makes it harder for people to single out trans people, and it’s a defiant stance in the wake of the executive order meant to terrorize trans people and put a wedge between them and cisgender (not trans) people.

If someone says something negative about trans people in response to your solidarity, don’t engage with transphobic talking points; it signals their views are legitimate. Tell them if they actually knew trans people, really knew them, this smear campaign against us would be appear as ridiculous and harmful to them as it is to you. Instead, tell them about the trans people you love in your life, in general, without outing us. Do not name specific connections that could make trans people in your life identifiable. that may put trans people in harm’s way.

Christian nationalists will not be persuaded. they’re fascist offshoot that barely resembles christianity, so much as they use portions of the bible to single out people for cruelty. Christian nationalists do not think trans people are people, and they have long mused about our annihilation. But your neighbors and elected officials may be influenced. the idea here is to engage in a massive grassroots effort to destigmatize trans people, making it untenable for christian nationalists in trump’s administration to go for us. This isn’t an empty gesture or virtue signaling. It’s a way to say: our community values trans people and we will not let you harm them.

Please don’t wait for leaders. you are a leader. do good now while you still can, in every way you can. And if you can’t do this action, share it anyway. Share it for the trans people you love.”

In The Future

I was a woman for 21 years. For 21 years I didn’t question that, I didn’t feel like I should be anyone else. Until the days leading up to my months in Costa Rica. I was sitting with my friends Artemis and Cailey and we were talking about growing old. I mentioned that I couldn’t picture myself as an old woman. I didn’t see a grown version of myself who fit that shape. And I mentioned that when I imagined myself as an adult, as the teacher I aspire to be, I pictured a man. Artemis planted a seed in my brain by stopping me and asking ‘why do you think that is?’

I spent two months in Costa Rica on a veterinary internship and it was one of the hardest two months of my life. I was away from home, surrounded by people who I didn’t feel safe being queer around, and questioning everything about my identity. We had a lot of free time in the evenings because we couldn’t leave the worksite with COVID restrictions and I spent hours reading and learning about what it meant to be trans masculine and trying to figure out if what I was feeling was valid. If I could trust myself.

For two months while I was away I read this poem, these lines, over and over and over again. Every time I read it I was talking to myself. Telling myself that someday I would be some other, better, truer version of me. I had the idea for this comic when I was in the back of my coworker’s car driving through the palm fields on our way out to buy supplies.

I envisioned this piece as one where I would be talking to my present self about the future. Life took over and I never got around to making the comic. Now, 1 year later as I draw, I realize that I’m not talking to myself about the future. I’m talking to my past self from the future she imagined. It’s a thought that brings tears to my eyes even as I’m typing this.

I am such a different person today than I was 10 years ago. 5 years, 1. I don’t regret any part of my journey, and I feel so much love for my community and for every queer and trans person who has shared their identity both interpersonally and publicly. I wouldn’t be Theodore without seeing others around me who shared their stories. It’s my hope that I can contribute in the same way to anyone who is exploring their gender and sexuality.