#they're valid!

Okay

You're not queer

I won't call you that, no one should call you that, and anyone that does is being an asshole regardless of their identity or minority status. It doesn't matter what reasoning you have behind not wanting to be labelled as queer, what trauma you may or may not have, what you've identified as in the past and present, and whether or not your preference just comes to not liking the vibe of the word for entirely inscrutible reasons. No one has any right to pry.

If you say you're not queer, then you're not queer, and that's okay.

It just also means that if I, a queer person, talk about the queer community, then I'm not referring to you. If an academic refers to queer history and queer texts written by queer people about other queer people, they're also not talking about you. If a corporation starts using 'queer' in their ads then they can eat shit because fuck 'em, they have no fucking right to use our words when they aren't and have never been one of us, but if a well-meaning ally uses 'queer' as a one-syllable shorthand for LGBTQIA+ in a verbal conversation, then there's no reason for you to get any more annoyed at them as you would if they used the word 'gay' instead.

You have every single right to be labelled or not labelled as you like, and I will stand behind you all the way. If someone is trying to shove 'queer' on you when you really don't want it? Then I will happily, metaphorically, deck them in the face for you. We are still family, whatever you choose to call yourself, and it's important that we stick together.

But

If you aren't queer, and you get frustrated when you see queer people talking about the queer community, take a deep breath, and consider:

Guess who had the audacity to post a 200 word fic within 30 minutes of finishing the movie? This bitch.

This isn’t a very long one, but here we go!  “So… Y’owl’s?” 

“Yes, y’owl’s.”

“...The y’owl’s that live in the fireswamp. And try to rip people to shreds.” Parsley said, raising an eyebrow.

“They aren’t that bad, Parsley! They just have a temperament. You have to treat animals with dignity and respect!” Borbra said, putting her hands on her hips. The tiny ship rocked back and forth slightly as she paced up and down the deck. The boss, who still sat beside the bound and gagged prince, rolled his eyes, and turned away to keep his eye on the ship that still followed from far off in the distance.

“So… you really want to catch one? And keep it? As a pet?” Parsley said, the hand that had been sharpening his sword coming to a halt. “Pardon me, Borbra. I just find it a bit odd.”

Borbra smiled. “I find it odd that you can stand to drink so much, but I don’t judge you for it.” 

“Now wait a minute, wait. I don’t judge you for anything! I do your rhymes with you, don’t I?” He did, that was true. Even when they had been rhyming for several hours, to the point where the boss would threaten to fire them both. “Listen, I’m sorry.” Parsley said. “You listen to me talk about my… quest… So I’ll listen to you. Go on, tell me about the Y’owl’s.” 

Borbra grinned and took a seat beside him.

“You know, the boss thinks you’re odd, too.” She said. 

Parsley grinned, letting out a short chuckle. 

“I’d say he feels that way about both of us. Our, uh, guest might feel the same.” 

Borbra looked back at the large figure, who had been sitting so stiff and still one might have thought he had turned into a statue somewhere along the way. 

“Well,” She said. “I don’t know if I blame him.” A ping of sadness shot through her. It was hard to be a villain. It wasn’t at all a fun job, but at this point in her life, there wasn’t much else for her. Parsley must have noticed the sadness on her face, as he leaned up and patted her shoulder. 

“Hey.” He said. “They may not understand you, but I do.”