#queeridentity

June 2025 marks a monumental occasion: my first Pride as a post-op nullo, a non-binary trans person finally at home in their own skin. This isn't just a celebration; it's a defiant roar against decades of trauma and a testament to the enduring power of self-acceptance and creating chosen family.

My childhood in Southeast Wisconsin was a crucible of conservative evangelical dogma, a theocratic right-wing bubble that suffocated any sense of belonging. From my earliest memories, I felt alien, a queer kid in a world determined to erase me. The only escape I craved was literal – I started studying German at ten, dreaming of a life anywhere but there.

The collision course with my parents was inevitable. In January 2005, at 17, I came out to them as gay while a freshman at UW-Madison. Their response was catastrophic. Financially cut off, I was told my life would be "miserable, incomplete, unhappy," inevitably ending in "death by AIDS." This wasn't concern; it was a hateful prophecy, a weaponized fear designed to break me. This insidious rhetoric, designed to condemn and isolate, is etched into my memory.

The same hateful voices that attacked me as a queer kid are now orchestrating a grotesque moral panic around gender-affirming care. These fascist morons aren't concerned with anyone's well-being; they're deploying a classic strategy of distraction and division. Their failures of leadership are masked by manufacturing outrage, pitting segment against segment, all to maintain their decaying grip on power. This isn't about protecting children or upholding values; it's about control, about demonizing the vulnerable to consolidate their own crumbling authority.

Let me be unequivocally clear: there are no "gay rights" without trans rights. The fight is indivisible. To surrender on trans rights is to concede ground on all queer liberation. We witnessed this in the fight for marriage equality. When I married my first husband in 2011 in New York City, Wisconsin still treated us as second-class citizens. We paid an extra $250 for a court-ordered name change, endured extensive legal planning just to gain a shred of recognition for our union. The battle culminated in Obergefell v. Hodges, and suddenly, "gay marriage" was no longer a controversial social issue. This rapid shift illustrates precisely how easily societal acceptance can be won when we stand united.

Pride, therefore, is not a quaint parade; it's a stark reminder that the struggle for queer rights is ceaseless. It’s a call to arms against those who seek to roll back our progress, to deny us our dignity and our very existence. In this fight, we must stand in full, unwavering solidarity with every single member of our LGBT family. We are bound not by blood, but by shared struggle, by resilience, and by an unbreakable commitment to a future where all of us can thrive. 

You can’t pick your parents, but you can choose your Daddy – and in the queer community, we choose to lift each other up, to protect one another, and to fight for the liberation of all. For me, Pride is a sacred space, a chance to reach back to that scared, lonely younger self and affirm, with every fiber of my being: I belong here. No matter what the bigots and their hateful pronouncements have to say, I am here, I am real, and I am unapologetically myself.

January 2023/6

It would be wrong to think that the discussion of “identity” ought to proceed prior to a discussion of gender identity for the simple reason that “persons” only become intelligible through becoming gendered in conformity with recognisable standards of gender intelligibility. 

Whereas the question of what constitutes “personal identity” within philosophical accounts almost always centres on the question of what internal feature of the person establishes the continuity or self-identity of the person through time, the question here will be: To what extent do regulatory practices of gender formation and division constitute identity, the internal coherence of the subject, indeed, the self-identical status of the person? To what extent is “identity” a normative ideal rather than a descriptive feature of experience? And how do the regulatory practices that govern gender also govern culturally intelligible notions of identity? In other words, the “coherence” and “continuity” of “the person” are not logical or analytic features of personhood, but, rather, socially instituted and maintained norms of intelligibility. Inasmuch as “identity” is assured through the stabilising concepts of sex, gender, and sexuality, the very notion of “the person” is called into question by the cultural emergence of those “incoherent” or “discontinuous” gendered beings who appear to be persons but who fail to conform to the gendered norms of cultural intelligibility by which persons are defined. 

C.R.A.Z.Y. is a 2005 French Canadian film from director Jean-Marc Vallée.  The film itself centers on Zac, a character that his going through an identity crisis over the course of the film.  Zac also has four brothers.  Christian is something of an egghead who reads everything and is (assumed) to be very smart.  Raymond, whom Zac declares his enemy and is the films problem child.  Then there is Antoine who is the athlete of the family.  Finally there is Yvan, the youngest in the family and the one who speaks the least. The movie itself, focuses on the relationship between Zac and his father. While the movie clearly shows the struggle for identity, and acceptance, this is all the movie really does. It is not actually interested in taking on the greater LGBTQ issues throughout. 

Zac is the fourth born son in the family.  When arranging the brothers in order of birth it is, Christian, Raymond, Antoine, Zac and Yvan.  The first letter of their names, in birth order, spells out C.R.A.Z.Y., which the film uses to symbolizes the dysfunction of the family as a whole.  The boys have all grown up under a strict, incredibly masculine father.  The father’s name is Gervais and he wants all of his children to grow up to be big strong men.  Zac is fortunate enough (or unfortunate enough) to be born on Christmas day in 1960.  He is constantly reminded that his birthday is the same as Jesus Christ (which is significant with him growing up in a very Catholic family) and that because of that he must have a gift.  He is, the film points out, not like other boys.  The film leads audiences astray by saying Zac must have a gift.  If he thinks of people while they’re in pain they’ll get better.  What the film is really alluding to, however, is Zac’s homosexual desires.

The film plays around with the identity crisis a lot.  While Zac is the main character and his identity throughout the film is front and center, the film is really about a father’s love for his sons, but also the toxic masculinity of that father.  As the film begins Zac is a child, and his father’s favorite son.  But as Zac gets older his father wants him to be a “man.”  He doesn’t want Zac to be soft or feminine. A key scene in the film is Gervais stumbling upon Zac wearing women’s clothing and enjoying himself. This moment, Zac narrates, is a moment which “declares war” on his father, unbeknownst to him.

The film goes through three different periods of time.  First the early 60’s when Zac is a child.  The film then jumps to the mid 70’s when Zac is in adolescence and finally ends in early 1981 when Zac is an adult. It’s in adolescence that the film primarily pays attention to Zac and the “problem child,” Raymond. 

Raymond, who represents a lot of toxic masculinity, is shown as Zac’s sworn enemy throughout the film.  Raymond picks on Zac, tortures him, and calls him homophobic slurs. But it is also in adolescence that Raymond begins to develop a drug addiction. Like Zac, Raymond disappoints his father, but it’s due to his drug addiction, not sexuality. On the other hand, Gervais actually sees Zac’s sexuality as more of a problem. 

Zac spends a great deal of the film wanting to desperately win his father’s approval and he does so by trying very hard to repress his homosexual desires.  The movie has a way of communicating Zac’s identity crisis as he explores who he may be.  In one particular scene the audience sees that Zac is a David Bowie fan in the 1970’s.  David Bowie was said to be undergoing an identity crisis during that time.  In 1972, David Bowie said he was a homosexual.  Of course, over the course of his life, Bowie has been quite ambiguous about his sexuality (with the most common answer now being that he was bisexual).  With Zac undergoing his own identity crisis, David Bowie is definitely the perfect symbol in the 1970’s.  In a scene where he’s singing David Bowie in his room the audience can also see the Pink Floyd rainbow spectrum in the background.  Though Pink Floyd has nothing to do with homosexuality, the rainbow is a symbol of gay pride.  The camera makes sure you don’t always see the whole Pink Floyd symbol and mostly shows the audience the rainbow.  

In another scene Zac is seen interested in other boys and trying not to let that show (in one instance he feigns having an infatuation with his cousin when it is, in fact, her boyfriend he’s actually interested in).  

The most important part of his identity crisis comes from wanting to please his strict Catholic father.  Gervais has a Patsy Cline record where he listens to his favorite song: Crazy.  Part of how Zac “declares war” on his father is also because he accidentally broke that record. However, this symbolizes their destroyed relationship. A major subplot of the film is Zac constantly trying to find this record in hopes that this will please his father enough to accept him. 

Catholic guilt, another trait associated with homosexuality within catholic households, is also a major theme in the film. There are several instances of crosses seen throughout.  The mother is devout in her prayers and Zac even takes a trip to Jerusalem where he is able to accept his identity.  The fact that the film spends so much time with a son getting right with his father is likely another Catholic symbol.  Catholics often have to confess sins and ask for forgiveness to get back into the circle with God the Father.  This is exactly what Zac has to do throughout the movie.  Instead of having to get right with the Lord, however, Zac has to get right with his literal father. This can only happen by confessing his homosexuality to his father, and himself. Something Zac spends the majority of the film trying to repress. 

Another interesting aspect of the film is that throughout, it is clear that most of the other characters are aware of Zac’s homosexuality. Zac’s mother is quite supportive of him throughout the film. Even Raymond the “problem child,” ends up defending Zac from homophobes. The only character in denial is Gervais, who spends much of the film suggesting that Zac couldn’t possibly be a homosexual because in late adolescence and early adulthood Zac manages to get himself into a relationship with a woman. During this time in adulthood, it seems like Zac is able to please his father, but this means lying to himself. 

C.R.A.Z.Y. definitely takes the issues of identity and acceptance quite seriously and without a lot of sex.  There are implied sexual acts, but nothing explicit. C.R.A.Z.Y. isn’t out to shock the audience, it is out to show a very real struggle that happens with those who identity as LGBTQ.  There is nothing presented about Zac’s identity crisis that’s funny. His process of coming out and acceptance isn’t treated as a joke, but rather torture. Whether that’s from his father or his brother.  

C.R.A.Z.Y. was a huge critical success, but it was not necessarily a mainstream one. Being a foreign film meant that it was not widely distributed in the United States. It was also a smaller independent project. C.R.A.Z.Y. also came out the same year as “Brokeback Mountain,” but this film’s lack of media publicity makes it feel less like a moment where the culture pats itself on the back, and more like it was trying to present something more authentic. C.R.A.Z.Y. doesn’t rely too heavily on stereotypes. As well as it handles the identity crisis, however, the movie shows that it is firmly a product of its time by refusing to be too political in any sense of the word. 

C.R.A.Z.Y. came out eight years after Ellen had literally come out. The approach that Ellen took was a means of depoliticizing queerness, and focusing on identity (Dow, 2001). C.R.A.Z.Y. is similar in that it does not spend a lot of time focusing on any particular political issues of the day, or even struggles beyond identity. This is especially baffling within the film, as the majority of it takes place in the 1970’s, but has little to say about the ongoing gay rights movement that was taking place in Canada at the time. The movie seems to care little for actually discussing the political climate that Zac is finding himself in. This suggests that the struggle for identity and coming out is one done in isolation, with nothing from the outside creeping in. 

It is also worth examining who created the film. Director Jean-Marc Vallée is known more today for the movie “The Dallas Buyer’s Club,” but he is a straight, cis-gendered, white male. This will often bring about the question who the movie is made for, and why. As Doty (1993) reminds us, the director of a film can actually influence what the audience sees and experiences on screen. Vallée is actually quite known for his attempts at allyship through film, but he has also been criticized for his handling of some of these issues. C.R.A.Z.Y. is his most praised work for how well it dives into identity, but it also shows the reality of who is able to have their projects funded. Could C.R.A.Z.Y. have been made by a queer man? It is unlikely that this would be the case. 

On the other hand, as Joyrich (2014) points out, such displays of identity can still help in smaller ways. I do believe this to be true of C.R.A.Z.Y.. The film came out in 2005 when such topics as gay marriage and visibility were greater topics of discussion throughout Canada and the United States. Nevertheless, the film would still be considered “safe,” by all accounts. C.R.A.Z.Y. is a fairly sexless affair. One that is able to meet the “approval” of most straight audiences. In fact, until the very end, one might wonder if C.R.A.Z.Y. even is about identity simply for the fact that even after Zac fully realizes his homosexuality… the movie doesn’t explicitly state this. The climactic discussion between Zac and his father is one in which “homosexual” or “gay” is never stated, but is explicitly implied. Much like the 2016 film “Moonlight,” C.R.A.Z.Y. is one that largely meets approval based on how little sexuality is on display. This might refer to Guy Lodge’s (2017) criticism that in order for queer cinema to succeed in the west it needs to be sexless. In discussing “Moonlight” Lodge pointed out “it’s hard to imagine an equally accomplished yet more explicit film receiving the same acclaim.” The same can be said of C.R.A.Z.Y. Even though C.R.A.Z.Y. is a French-Canadian film, it is still quite Americanized in its presentation. Homosexuality can be talked about, but it can’t fully be on display. 

This also means that the film risks being part of what Suzanne Walters (2014) refers to as “the tolerance trap.” Walters argues that gay visibility alone is not a sign of progress. “Acceptance is the handmaiden of tolerance, and both are inadequate, and even dangerous, for accessing real social inclusion…” (p. 3) C.R.A.Z.Y. has been praised substantially. It is one of a small number of films on Rotten Tomatoes to have a 100% rating (it is the only LGBTQ film to have such a rating). This praise may not have the same back-patting praise that a film such as “Brokeback Mountain,” has, but it still has the air of “tolerance,” to it. Zac spends the majority of the film either in the closet or repressed--unable to act on his sexuality in any regard. The main point of the movie is his father’s acceptance. This is the goal of the movie--to establish Gervais’s acceptance of his son. Once this is achieved and the “war” between them is over, the movie concludes. Considering that the movie itself ends in the year 1981, this means the movie does not have to deal with the AIDS crisis that will soon follow. 

C.R.A.Z.Y. is a film more concerned with visibility and identity, but does not seek to apply this in a manner that would deem the film too “political.” This approach more to acceptance and identity helps a little, but it isn’t quite enough, even in 2005. It’s certainly better than what the the championed mainstream film “Brokeback Mountain” was. However, the obsession with tolerance, acceptance, and the lack of engaging politically with struggles beyond the personal makes a film like C.R.A.Z.Y. only really appear daring at what it does. It’s feels like more than window dressing because it comes across as more authentic. This certainly allows audiences to empathize with Zac, but it also stands to leave the audience with the belief that empathy and acceptance is all that is required when engaging with LGBTQ people. It’s a lot like saying, “I don’t care if your gay, bisexual or attracted to buildings! You’re still my son and love you!” From a personal standpoint this sounds just fine, but it does not show that one would stand up and fight for LGBTQ rights, or fight to enact change. Rather it shows that one can engage in individual forms of acceptance and tolerance, but that once something more is required than simply the personal, audiences may not necessarily be willing to rise up and do something. This could be, as Doty (1993) notes, because the “queer operates within the nonqueer” (pp. 3). C.R.A.Z.Y. may not have been as big of a mainstream hit as “Brokeback Mountain,” but the intent was still to reach a much wider audience. This is something that the film cannot do if it’s “too political.” This would risk alienating a section of the audience. In order for a film like C.R.A.Z.Y. to find mainstream success, it needs to be seen as acceptable by dominant power structures. This involves not necessarily challenging those structures, which is why the film’s messages are more individualistic and personalized. 

References

Doty, A. (1993) “Something queer here,” in Making things perfectly queer  (pp. 1-16). University of Minnesota Press.

Doty, A. (1993) “Whose Text is it Anyway,” in Making things perfectly queer  (pp. 17-38). University of Minnesota Press.

Dow, B. (2001) Ellen, television, and the politics of gay and lesbian visibility, Critical Studies in Media Communication, 18(2) 123-140. doi: 10.1080/07393180128077

Joyrich, L. (2014). Queer television studies: Currents, flows, and (main) streams. Cinema Journal, 53(2), (pp. 133-139). doi: 

Lodge, G (2017, January 5). “Does Moonlight show gay cinema has to be sexless to succeed?” The Guardian. Retrieved from https://www.theguardian.com/film/2017/jan/05/does-moonlight-prove-that-gay-cinema-has-to-be-sexless-to-succeed 

“My first pair of Calvin Klein briefs - although underneath my clothes made me feel the best (clothing wise) I have experienced to date.

Wearing mens underwear set the wheels in motion to unequivocally start to dress in a way that made me feel like I could begin to settle into myself as an androgynous queer.

Wearing “men's clothes” is unfortunately a contentious decision for the majority of women, myself included, and those who are not seen as cis males.

Claiming a style or article of clothing as male has always angered me because it shames anyone else from shopping in the men's sections, I mean fuck it's just a t-shirt, do we really need a penis to shop in this section?

So therefore thrifting became my unabashed male fashion cornucopia, it felt safer somehow.

I use androgynous clothes as an avenue to express myself in a nongendered and nonconforming way.”