September 6, 2023
The “Q” Word
Dear Friend,
If my being crazy didn’t scare you away, this is the other
letter where I imagine you seeing this one itty bitty five-letter word…and
never talking to me again.
If you have read any of my previous blogs, if you have
picked up my book (at the date of this posting, it isn’t published yet, but
will be soon) and read the first few words of my author biography, if you have
seen the sign in my front lawn or the flag on the front door of my house…you
might see this word…and if you are a typical old-fashioned American, you may
assume certain meanings to this word.
The other word that comes before “poet” in my bio, other
than “disabled” is…”QUEER”. Yes. Please, before you assume things about the
word, about me, read this letter first.
Many cis-gender, heterosexual individuals (if you don’t know
what either of those terms mean, you probably belong to both of the groups)
assume “queer” means gay. But that would be wrong. I call people who associate
themselves with LGBTQIA+ or Pride the Alphabet People. (Look at how our acronym
has grown over the years). There are so many definitions of different kinds of
gender AND sexuality (and if you don’t know the difference between these, hang
on a minute) that often, in order to cover all our bases, or if we don’t fit in
a specific category, or if we fit into several, we will just call ourselves
queer. It is kind of a “miscellaneous”
kind of word, an “anything other than cis/hetero” term. So “queer” can mean
something different for each person that claims it.
Here is what it means for me.
Growing up, I felt that I never quite fit in anywhere. I was an oddball (and still am). I was born
with a female body, so was expected to like and play with and act like a girl
“normally” would. But instead of pink, I liked orange. I played with Barbies, but I also liked to be
outside, looking at the plants and insects and creepy-crawlies. When other
girls had posters of muscled men and boy bands on their walls, it never
occurred to me to want those kind of idols (though my friends from school can
tell you I had my fair share of crushes). I got an Agronomy degree (two,
actually, but who is counting?), and was the only female in the Agronomy Club
AND the soil fertility project on campus where I worked.
What does this all mean? This describes gender roles—the
expectation that our culture has on those with certain biological sexes to act
a certain way. Since I have a female
body, I am supposed to act as my culture defines how a “girl” is supposed to
behave, what a “girl” is supposed to wear, to work, to study, to like, to do.
But I don’t conform to those ideals. Technically, my term is Gender
Non-Conforming. But I don’t like the idea that there is something we are supposed
to conform to in the first place. So I use the word “queer” instead. My gender
isn’t a typical female; I’m queer, thanks.
What about sexuality? That’s complicated. That’s queer, too. Basically, my manic
depression changes my desires (Rita wants EVERYONE, my depression wants no
one). When I am stable, the best term to
describe me is demisexual. What the heck is that? A form of asexuality, it
means I am attracted to people I have an emotional connection with more than I
am to any certain physical attributes. As far as gender/biological sex goes, I very
much appreciate the female body, enough to be attracted to it visually. The
male body is more of a physical touch attraction rather than a visual
attraction. So, yes, rather than try to describe this to someone (nope, not
heterosexual, and nope, NOT gay, and nope, don’t have time to tell a
long-drawn-out story every time…) I just say “queer”. We’re good, right?
So, you cis/hetero folk who have made it this far. Friend, if you are still here and reading.
Most of us alphabet people aren’t as scary strange as you may think we
are. We are just ordinary (some of us
extraordinary, some of us a little quirky, some of us still oddballs)….what I
mean to say is we are just people, just like you. So I may be queer, but it’s
just a step off the path you’re used to.
Not a jump into some bizarre lake full of razor-tooth snakes or
anything.
And if I got the chance to choose another song to live in?
For this, I would proudly choose The Greatest Showman’s “This is Me”. I hear my
daughter boldly stand and sing her solo in a clear voice, this song making me
cry near the end of her senior year of high school, as I am just discovering
who I really am, already four decades old, and just figuring out it is not a
failure to be girly enough, but a proud queer individual who can stand, no mask
in hand, and say, “This. Is. Me”.
Are you okay with that, too? Are you proudly standing up,
accepting who you are? Do you love the whole of what you see in the mirror?
Don’t let the cookie cutter of culture tell you who to be.
Be you.
Thinking of you and loving you just as you are.
Love,
Julie
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