

Rather than use the alphabet soup of LGBTQQIIAAPSS+, “queer” encompasses any non-cisgender, non-heterosexual identity, relationship, behavior, or desire. Simply put, people use the word and identify with it, and they assume others mean it the same way they do.įirst, there is “queer” as an umbrella term. The overlap between these meanings results in what I call “conceptual inflation” of the term.

Professor of Sociology at Drexel University and author of Boystown: Sex and Community in Chicago (he/him)Īs I discussed in my book, “queer” has three overlapping (but not synonymous) meanings. I’ve learned over time that navigating societal rules of binary presentation is always going to be a unique challenge for me. I embrace “non-binary” because I am naturally androgynous - puberty gave me a physical and emotional blend of masculine and feminine traits. My queerness encompasses that voice, my voice, as a Black, male-assigned, non-binary individual who harshly critiques the status quo. Using “queer” as a catch-all umbrella term, whether intentionally or not, silences that important fringe voice. LGBT+ labels tend to presume a binary origination, and their usage coincides with a social movement that seeks assimilation and erases the existence of non-binary identities. It also encompasses my rebuke of cisgender and heteronormative privilege and the intersection of these privileges with white privilege. Growing up, “queer” was not a term I heard weaponized - at least not as much as “faggot” - so I recognize that I lack a certain emotional response associated with its use.įor me, queerness encompasses my sexual identity as someone uncomfortable with binary presentation. Vonte Abrams, visual merchandising artist (they/them)

Even as a slur, the word described those who exist outside of what society mandates, so it’s fitting that the term now defies all restrictions of love and self that the world has placed on us. That said, I know how empowering it feels to reclaim words that have been used to harm us, and I appreciate “queer” specifically because it has always carried a sense of undefined abstractness. So I understand why generations before me balk at the word. As an adult, I've been harassed with these same slurs. In middle school, kids followed me home calling me “queer,” “fag,” and more. So yes, queer-bashing was literally a childhood ritual. The neighborhood kids played a game called “smear the queer.” You’d toss a football back and forth, and whoever caught it was the “queer” for everyone to tackle. When I was a kid, “queer” was a pejorative. But when talking to someone with whom I have a rocky relationship, I’ll simply be a “gay male.” For example, I’m queer, trans, non-binary, and Mexican, and this is how I’d express myself to a partner.

Identities are personal, but they are also how we advertise ourselves, so they are often very circumstantial, too. Steven “Z” Patton, community activist and public speaker (he/she/they)
