Tag: genderidentity

Cool vs Uncool Gays: Othering in the Queer Community

What makes someone cool? Is it personal opinion, or societally constructed? Do different cultures have varying views on what makes someone cool, or is there a universal cool? Why are certain qualities deemed uncool?

Recently I was talking to some friends, and as people do, we were discussing the people we go to school with. I run my queer club on campus and we started talking about the members in this club. Like with any social organization, there are always people you like more than others, and we got on the topic of who was cool and uncool. These friends of mine deemed a lot of the people who attend my club as uncool, but to me, a majority of my members are super cool people. 

The people my friends deemed cool seemed to be conventionally attractive, cisgender or cis-passing people. They weren’t super alternative in their looks, and could arguably be heterosexual passing. Now, of course everyone is allowed to have their own opinions. And these friends did just happen to find more traditionally attractive people cool. But that got me thinking. Why were these heterosexual/cisgender looking people cool? Was it personal preference, internalized homophobia, the media’s standards of beauty? There could be many reasons, but I wondered what makes someone, especially a queer person, cool? 

So here’s what we’re going to do. We’re going to break this down into four categories. First, what society (western standards) deem as a “cool” gay person, and what society deems as “uncool.” Then we’re going to discuss Jadey’s version of “cool” and “uncool” gay people.

Now, first we have to address a few things. What does being “cool” mean? 

When I Google the slang definition of cool, the general consensus I gathered is that someone who is cool has a certain attitude, behavior, or style that is admirable to a certain group or society and appeals to social norms. So, this definition could change depending on who you are, where you are, etc, but it has largely to do with “fitting it” and appealing to social norms. However, there is a bit of edge to a cool person. They are confident, but they have a certain sense of autonomy and are distancing themselves from authority. Being identified as cool usually appeals to younger generations. 

Okay. Awesome. So what is my definition of cool? 

When I think of someone who is cool I think of someone confident. They are sure of themselves. They don’t care what others think. They are a kind and respectful individual but they also stand up for what they believe in. They’re not afraid to be outspoken and have people disagree with them. Cool people have a unique sense of style and self. To me, a cool person is politically active, has an alternative edgy style, has niche interests and hobbies, and is (though they don’t have to be) queer. 

And, we have to acknowledge that in contemporary Western society it is never “cool” to be gay.

Now that that’s out of the way, that brings me to another question. Why do we “other” people in an already minority community? Why do some queer people feel that they have the authority to feel superior to other queer people? 

I think the main reason is that queer people who “other” people in their own community are struggling with internalized homophobia. They might see themselves as a “normal” queer person, someone who is quiet about their queerness. They think that loud gay people are doing a disservice to the community. That if these loud gays were quieter, if they weren’t loud and flamboyant or polyamorous or trans or used neo pronouns or was a furry, that straight people would respect these so called “normal” gays. But the truth of the matter is, no queer person is ever going to be normal in the eyes of a cishet society.  

What Society Deems as “Uncool”

  1. Trans and GNC People 

People who are not cis are not cool. People who go against the gender binary are not cool. The exception to this might be cis passing trans people where those around them don’t know they are trans. Once this is found out about them they are deemed uncool. So, this means that anyone who is not transexual (be it non-binary, agender, genderfluid, androgynous, etc) are never going to be cool. Breaking the traditional gender binary goes against everything the patriarchy has in place to subordinate minorities. Very uncool. 

  1. Loud and Proud Gays

Our patriarchal and homophobic society does not like queer people who are loud about their identity. Why? Because these people are hard to control. This can be the kind of gay person who is flamboyant and extroverted, or alternatively dressed and heavily active in politics. The only good gay person is the silent one. 

  1. Unconventionally Attractive and/or Alternative Gays (including those who might be disabled or neurodivergent) 

White, cishet passing, able-bodied queer people are the only ones who might be allowed to be queer in public. Being neurodivergent, disabled, or a person of color, anything that already others you is not cool, and once you mix that with queerness, god forbid! This definitely has to do with white supremacy but that’s another conversation. 

What Society Deems as “Cool” Gays

  1. Cisgender and Heterosexual Passing Gays

The type of gay people society thinks is cool is the people who aren’t read as gay. These people are conventionally attractive. They fit into gender roles and expectations. They aren’t alternative in their style. This is the kind of person who is your everyday Joe. All in all, these people pass as cishet. 

  1. Gay, but not Queer 

The more acceptable type of gay person in American society is the gay person who subscribes to the American ideal. They have a house and white picket fence. They are not vocal about their queerness. They join the PTA and the HOA. They aren’t friends with other queer people. They’re in a nuclear family unit. The acceptable type of gay person is a gay person who hides their queerness and assimilates into straight cisgender roles and expectations. 

When I say a person is gay, but not queer, I mean that they do experience attraction to the same gender but they do not participate in unconventional familial, household, or relationship roles. When a person is queer, this shows up in their daily life. They probably have radical views of gender and sexuality. They don’t subscribe to traditional gender roles in relationships and if they do, it’s a choice, not from outside pressure. 

What Jadey Deems as “Uncool” Gays

  1. Uneducated Gays

People who identify somewhere on the spectrum of LGBTQIA+ but don’t know queer history. These are people who realize they are gay and stop there. They don’t know about Stonewall or other micro identities or neo pronouns and why the L is at the start of the acronym. Basically, they ignore the struggle and hardship of their queer elders. 

  1. Homophobic Gay People

Listen. Homophobia can get the best of us. But identifying as gay and disliking other people for being queer (usually too queer or trans) is problematic. We live in a homophobic society, it is understandable to internalize those messages and subject them to yourself and others. But, if you’re not doing the work to overcome that, then you’re contributing to the issue, which is not cool. 

  1. Gay, but not Queer 

I have a really hard time being around people who are gay but not queer. These are gay people who think they have the right to speak on queer issues just because they’re gay when in reality, they know nothing about the subject. Just because I’ve taken an algebra class doesn’t mean I have the right to tell you your calculus is wrong. 

  1. Gays with a Victim Complex

These are the people I think the right would call “snowflakes.” These are gay people who think every single bad thing to happen to them is an act of homophobia. These people make everything centered around their queerness. These people expect everyone to know everything about queerness. They get pissed off at someone who slips up on pronouns even though they’re trying their best. This is the gay person who says they hate straight people. 

The kind of gay people I don’t like are the ones who are constantly playing the victim card. These are the people who are completely convinced every single bad thing to happen to them is pure oppression just because they are gay. Like, no Samantha, that person doesn’t like you because you’re annoying, not because you’re gay. 

What Jadey Deems as “Cool” Gays

  1. Gays Educated in Queer History.

If you’re educated about queer topics, you’re cool. Because if you’ve educated yourself on a variety of queer history, it’s very likely you’ve gotten a variety of stories and perspectives of the queer experience and therefore have become a more educated, well-rounded, empathetic person.

  1. Gays Educated in Queer Media 

This goes with the above topic. Listen, just because you’re gay doesn’t mean you have to exclusively listen to queer artists or consume queer art and media. Unless you’re me that is. But, it’s important to know who is trailblazing in your community and making it easier and more accepted for you to live your life as an out and proud queer person. 

  1. Queer, not Gay

At this point I’ve repeated myself enough so I’ll only say this: people who are simply “gay” and not “queer” are trapped in patriarchal bounds. They’re trying to appeal to a system that will never accept them and was made to erase them. That’s not cool. 

My asexuality (and my lesbianism) has played a huge role in how I identify as queer. Just my asexuality alone makes every romantic relationship I am in queer because it is an unconventional relationship. There’s no sex. Romance is prioritized. Other forms of affection are prioritized. 

I prioritize being in queer spaces and hanging out with queer people. I consume queer media. It’s important to me to know about my community and the complexity in it because the diversity is what makes it cool and unique and beautiful. How boring it would be to just be gay. Being queer is complex, and it’s really cool. 

  1. Confident and Outspoken Gays

It is cool to be proud of who you are. Why? Because it creates space for your identity to be normalized and makes other people feel confident in who they are. I always think back to the out queer kids I knew in high school when I was figuring out my identity and I thought these people were the coolest kids ever. I wanted to be their friend. Seeing people like you exist is crucial to accepting your differences and identity. Simply existing as a queer person is a protest in itself. 

  1. Social and Political Activity 

Queer people who are active not only politically, but socially as well in their community. These are people who hang out with other queer people. They consume queer media. They make an effort to support queer business. They go to drag shows and support queer art. These people are making a difference for the wider queer community. 

  1. Multi-layered Queerness 

The coolest type of queer person you can be is the queer person who understands (or is trying to understand) the multilayered complexity to your queerness. Because your queerness and sexuality isn’t just who you feel sexual attraction to (or in my case, don’t). There are so many types of ways to feel attraction: romantic, sexual, emotional, sensual, intellectual. The list goes on and on. Sure, you could identify as gay, but what does that mean? Being a cool gay is being aware of the complexity and layers to your identity. How does your sexual and romantic attraction to people affect your relationship dynamics? Plus, your sexuality can totally impact how you experience gender. How is your gender and sexuality different? How do they overlap and intertwine? 

Anyway, It’s cool to be queer. Who knew one conversation with some friends would turn into a full blown blog post and become such a nuanced conversation. 

Finding Comfort in Queerness 

Look who’s back. It’s been a while since my last blog post, I know. In fact, this whole year my blog has lacked the consistency of the near weekly posts I made during my first year of blogging. I do think about it pretty often, wondering why my consistency has lacked. 

“Oh Jadey,” I ask myself, “why haven’t you posted on your blog?”

And in return, the little Jadey in my mind simply says, “I don’t have anything to say.” 

I started this blog a mere few months after I came out. I was dealing with what it was like to be a queer person in the world. I was learning what my queerness and my asexuality meant to me. I was in my first relationship. I dealt with my first breakup. I started college and attended queer club meetings and I continued to find out more about my queer identity.

This past year I made a queer friend group that quickly became one of the most important things in my life. I applied to be the president of my campus’s gay club and got the job, which I’ll start in the fall. I’ve continued to find confidence within my identity, and now, I have found a quite cliche amount of “inner peace,” if you will. 

My queerness has simply rooted itself deep in my bones and blossomed in a way of fact. I no longer feel confusion or difficulty in my queerness. Being queer, though a huge part of my life, has settled in a way I never expected. 

And because of that, I have not had much to say to the public. But in reality, I find that an incredibly happy thing. My blog was once an outlet for all of my confusion and frustration and queer joy I was feeling for the first time. I needed a way to express myself instead of keeping my feelings bottled in. My blog became a diary of sorts, and the simple act of writing helped me articulate major life events. And it just so happens that I posted it on the internet for anyone to read. 

Now of course, you never know what the future holds. In a month or two, something absolutely crazy could happen, and I could be writing pages and pages of advice and experiences and questions and music recommendations. But for now, all of this is to say, I’m at an incredibly joyful, comfortable place in my queerness. 

I still identify as ace, and can never see that changing. I’ve let a few labels swim around here in there for my romantic orientation, but for now, I still find joy in being unlabeled, and using queer as an umbrella term. As the love of my life Conan Gray says, I “don’t give a fuck about labels.” 

I’ve become more clear in how I feel as a queer girl, no longer worrying about labels to articulate my gender. Recently I’ve realized that at the start of my queerness, I changed my style to outwardly show my queerness to other people. Although I still do that, and find that it suits me best, I still love to lean hyper-femme, and have started to embrace that more. 

I’ve been reading tons of queer novels, watching queer shows, and writing tons of short stories over the summer, obviously starring queer, and usually ace, characters. 

So, that’s my update for you all. A quite joyous one I do have to say. Who knows what the future holds, this could be an update for the next few months, or the start of an explosion of blog posts. 

Until then, stay gay!

Similarities, Differences, and Commonalities Amongst Male and Female Asexuals: A Friend Interview! 

You guys. It’s an exciting day in the World of Jadey and the World of Average Asexual. Why? Because I’ve made a friend! Plus, he’s ace! I know. We’re all shocked. Jadey knows how to make friends?!

It’s a very exciting day because he’s going to answer some questions about his asexual and aromantic identity for the sake of education and curiosity so we get to compare and contrast our ace experiences. I am so excited for this post. Personally I hadn’t met any ace boys up until this point in my life. The other ace people I know are female or AFAB non binary/gender nonconforming people. And we all know that there aren’t that many asexuals so anytime I get to talk to another ace person, let alone befriend them, is a very exciting day. 

I’ve conjured up a handful of questions that I had my friend Nolan answer. I also answered the questions myself, and compared and contrasted some things I found interesting. 

  1. How do you identify? (Gender, sexuality, pronouns, etc.) How long have you identified as ace/aro? 

Nolan: I consider myself male (he/him) and am demiromantic (only feels romantic interest in people they have a pre-existing connection with) and apothisexual (repulsed by sexuality all together). A recurring theme when talking to people that are aro or ace is that once they learned it was a thing, there was no doubt in their mind that it perfectly summed up their orientation. It’s no different in my case; when I learned of the two spectrums a couple years ago, I felt an immense weight lifted from my shoulders, as I no longer needed to justify my differences and could feel comfortable in my own skin.

Jadey: I’m a cis female and use she/her pronouns. I’m ace (as we all know by now) and my romantic orientation is queer/unlabeled. I’ve identified as ace/queer for about two and a half years. 

Unlike Nolan, there was no magical click in my brain when I heard about asexuality for the first time. I’ve heard a lot of aces say that when they heard the term they immediately knew that was the label for them. Just like my understanding of my queerness, it took a long time for me to really understand what labels fit me and how I identified. However, once I came out as queer and ace I became super comfortable in those labels and feel super happy about being out and ace!

  1. Do you feel that you fit into queer spaces? 

Nolan: Yes and no. Almost all my friends are queer and I like learning about their experiences, but it’s something I’m relatively new to. As the leader of my college’s Neurodiversity Club, I’ve wanted to do a collaboration with the college’s Pride Club, seeing as our members are all queer. Since most of us aren’t active in the Pride Club, I think it’d be a perfect opportunity for us to explore the intersectionality of Neurodiversity and LGBT identities. In short, it’s a work-in-progress, but I look forward to establishing myself more in queer spaces.

Jadey: I do feel that I fit into queer spaces. I think my preference for women/gnc people definitely adds to my feeling of queerness. My aceness adds a layer different from the general queer population, but it feels queer nonetheless. 

I also am in predominantly queer spaces. Yay! Gay people! Besides attending Pride Club, my major consists of a lot of queer people, and I surround myself with queerness in other aspects as well. I write about queerness and consume a lot of queer media. I do have some queer friends, but my closest friends are cishet. Thankfully they are all amazing allies and celebrate my queerness and are never afraid to make a gay joke when the opportunity presents itself. 

  1. Do you feel that your gender impacted how you came to terms with your aceness? Do you feel that it was harder to come out/accept your aceness because of masculine stereotypes of being sexual?

Nolan: Honestly, no. I’ve been a non-conformist for all my life, and that extended to my avoidance of sexual topics or ideas before discovering asexuality. With the family and friends I came out to, it wasn’t a challenge convincing them I wanted to live a celibate life (that was clear), but rather that it was an identity in the same vein as being gay or transgender. As they saw it, asexuality is a lifestyle choice defined by restraint instead of an absence of sexual feelings, and it’s a point I always try to make when explaining asexuality that while I’m proud of it, it isn’t a choice I made for myself.

Jadey: (For the sake of this question I’ll be answering it with feminine stereotypes.) I don’t think my gender impacts how I came to terms with my sexuality. When I was figuring it out I knew of a lot of other queer people and women, so it never crossed my mind that there was some sort of stereotype of female sexuality I needed to uphold. I also ever internalized any societal expectations of women’s sexuality, so there weren’t any obstacles I had to face to be comfortable in my identity. If anything, my asexuality and queerness make me feel less feminine. And this is by no means a bad thing. There are simply feminine experiences that I don’t experience as a sapphic asexual. 

I guess aces are just non-conformists. It seems that our gender didn’t impact our experiences with our sexuality and the both of us didn’t struggle with preconceived notions of how we should experience sexuality. 

  1. Do you see yourself represented in the community (queer or ace specific)? 

Nolan: I’d say so, especially as I meet more people from both communities. With asexuality there are a lot of variations, like demisexuality and cupiosexuality, and meeting more people has shed light on how many perspectives there are. Even so, when meeting someone from a different subset we still tend to see eye-to-eye on a lot of things, especially (cliché as it sounds) how nice non-sexual things are and that there’s too much emphasis on sexuality in today’s society. With the queer community I also feel well represented, with the intersectionality of neurodiversity and queerness being a consistent topic in the Neurodivergence Club since it’s something we can all bond over.

Jadey: I definitely see myself represented in the queer community largely due to my romantic orientation. There are less aces but there are still some. Plus, my existence allows other unlabeled aces to exist and know someone is like them! 

There is definitely a niche understanding when meeting other ace people. It’s truly a feeling I can’t explain. Personally I feel quite a deep understanding and connection with other aces no matter how well I know them simply due to the fact that we both don’t experience sexual attraction, and there’s a language surrounding our identity a lot of other people, queer or straight, don’t get. I also definitely agree with Nolan that it’s easy to see yourself in other groups as well due to the intersectionality of my identity. I agree with a lot feminist discourse as well as queer ideology and those things can oftentimes go hand in hand. 

  1. Do you feel that you can’t relate to other men or do you feel “othered” by your aceness? (In other words does your gender play into how you might feel isolated by asexuality?)

Nolan: It may not feel like it in college, but there’s plenty of allosexual men that don’t make a big deal of sexuality, and since those are the men I associate with the most, I tend not to feel ‘othered’ on that front. Where it does become an issue is with me being arospec; I’m demiromantic, with this making me feel alienated from guy-friends that have more to say than I do on relationships. Even so, this kind of dynamic isn’t exclusive to men, it’s just easier to compare my romantic orientation to other men and feel ‘othered’ in doing so than with my sexual orientation.

Jadey: (Once again I’ll be talking about relating to other women.) I do sometimes feel that I don’t relate to other women due to my aceness more so than my attraction to women. It’s easier to say “boyfriend or girlfriend” for example, to create space for me, rather than include asexuality in discussions about relationships and significant others which is a popular topic in society, but especially with my age group. However, most of the time I feel that I fit in, and when I don’t, I would say it is because of my aceness and not other aspects of my identity. 

Wow, some differences here! It’s interesting how we both don’t feel super alienated by our identities. I feel like cishet/allo people might think we do, but turns out we don’t! I would also agree that the people I spend time with aren’t very consumed with sex and sexuality, so that does help me fit into spaces. 

  1. Do you know other asexual men? (If you don’t, do you want to? Or does gender not matter when meeting/befriending other aces?)

Nolan: Not to my knowledge. I’d be thrilled to meet someone that was, since it could mean knowing someone with a similar outlook as mine, but I don’t think it could only happen with men. In fact, I have almost the same outlook on asexuality as some of the non-male asexuals I’ve met, so while it’d be exciting to meet another asexual man, I wouldn’t expect him to have the same perspective as mine. Overall, every asexual person has their own personality and experience, and I’ve learned not to expect anyone’s approach to asexuality to be predictable.

Jadey: I technically know one other ace guy (besides Nolan), but I didn’t know that he was ace until I graduated high school and we went our separate ways. So technically yes! But I definitely know a lot more female or non binary people who identify somewhere on the asexual spectrum. Gender doesn’t matter to me. I think it would be cool to be friends with more guys and ace guys specifically because it would be interesting to learn about their experience. However I’m happy to be friends with anyone no matter their gender or sexuality. 

For the reader at home, it’s way more likely that women identify as asexual rather than men (this could be largely due to societal stereotypes of men being sexual, and the pressure they feel to uphold that. Booo toxic masculinity). The majority or asexual people I know are women, and the rest are trans or non binary. Because asexuality is such a vast experience, I know I wouldn’t be able to fully relate to any ace, but we would definitely have some commonalities. 

  1. Is your asexuality intertwined with your aromantic identity? Was it harder to realize you were ace or aro? 

Nolan: I wouldn’t say it was harder to realize, but it was harder to accept that I was aro. The idea of having a romantic relationship appeals to me, and I didn’t want to be arospec if it meant not being able to connect with other people on that level. The honest truth, though, is that my idea of a happy and fulfilling relationship is vastly different from most people’s; my idea of intimacy involves sharing life experiences and opening up to another, but I balk at the idea of love that seems shallow or possessive, hence my discomfort with sexuality and serial monogamy. Overall, I’d say my asexual and aromantic identities are closely interlinked, but they’re also very different from the other, with sex being something I’m averse to while the idea of romance captivates me.

Jadey: Since I’m not aromantic, I’ll talk about my allo identity and the confusion I’ve had with that. I will say that my asexuality and alloromantic identity are more connected than I initially thought. For a while I questioned if I was on the aro spectrum, and for a split second did consider my romantic orientation on the aro spectrum. Now I don’t think it is. I’ve questioned if I might be demiromantic, but I figured if I enter into a relationship and develop feelings after a deep connection has formed, then I’ll know. However, I do think that my sex-aversion affects what I consider romantic in a relationship. For example, many people consider kissing romantic, but that feels super sexual for me and therefore I don’t want to do it! For my case, it was harder for me to realize I was ace than that I liked women. I figured that out first, and after/a bit during, it was something I considered. Once I realized my identity was not straight, I had more space in my brain to consider being ace. That took a long time because I was confused. No one really sits you down to explain sexual attraction and libido and all the things, so I had to search the web for ages to try and figure out what those things meant in a way I understood. Once I was able to do that I could begin to understand that sexual attraction was something I didn’t experience, and that made me asexual. During this time I was also afraid of being wrong. I simply just didn’t want to insert myself into an oppressed community and realize I was wrong and leave. Obviously, you can jump in and out of the community, and consider a million and one labels and you’ll always be accepted. At the time it was just something I was quite concerned about. 

Wow, I had a lot to say about that. This just proves that the ace experience is so complex and different and interesting!!

My Recent Queer Soapboxes – Harry Styles Queerbaiting, the “Right” way to be Queer, and Internalized Homophobia

There’s a few different discourses in the queer community that really get my blood boiling, so today I decided to take that opportunity to discuss them all with you. 

  1. Harry Styles is Queerbaiting 

Many people seem to be convinced that singer-songwriter Harry Styles (he needs no introduction, we all know the man) is queerbaiting, which,  if you don’t know, is a marketing technique when a company or platform hints at queer romance or representation without actually portraying it in order to pull in a larger audience. 

However, Harry Styles is not queerbaiting. Why? Because people can’t queerbait. 

Who can queerbait? Companies, entertainers, and marketers. 

People are not a commodity. People do not owe anyone their sexuality. 

Many people feel that Harry is not doing anything for the queer community, even though he presents himself in a very androgynous way. He wears color and glitter, he was on the cover of Vogue in a dress. He waves pride flags around on stage and helps fans come out at his concerts. 

The people who think he is not queer clearly know nothing about him. They don’t know about his song “She,” they don’t know that he doesn’t label his sexuality, and they certainly don’t know about the Larry fan theories (not that I’m suggesting those are real). 

Harry Styles has never confirmed his sexuality because he has never labeled it. Additionally, just because Harry presents himself in a certain way doesn’t actually say anything about his sexuality.

“Well, he’s only been seen dating women. He must be straight.” 

Assuming Harry Styles is straight because he has only been seen dating women is biphobic. Just because he has only publicly dated women does not mean he has not privately dated men. He doesn’t have to date the same gender as him to prove his queerness. A bisexual or queer person dating a member of the opposite gender does not make them straight, just like dating a member of their same gender does not make them exclusively gay or lesbian. Harry could only date women for the rest of his life and if he experienced attraction to men or people outside the binary, doesn’t make him any less queer. 

“Okay, even if he is queer, he hasn’t done anything for the queer community. He never speaks about queer issues.” 

Let us all be reminded that Harry Styles is a singer, not an activist, although many artists are activists, that is not the job they signed up for. Yes, Harry has a huge following and has influence over millions of fans. That does not mean he has to become a political figure. He is simply a singer and songwriter. It is important that people with big followings know their power, and that is why many celebrities speak out on issues important to them. However, that is not their job they signed up for, and it is not the role they have to fill. We don’t know what Harry is doing in his private life. And heck, the man is probably voting to support queer issues, which is one of the most important things anyone can do. 

Harry is often compared to the love of my life light on this earth Conan Lee Gray. For some reason, people can validate Conan’s queerness, but not Harry’s. Because Conan has exclusively said he doesn’t label his sexuality, and often shows queerness in his music videos by portraying same sex couples, or showing himself interested in people in members of the same sex, his unlabeled queerness is accepted. He also almost exclusively writes lyrics with gender neutral pronouns, and when he does use binary pronouns, the outcome is usually queer in itself. 

For example in his song “The Exit,” off of his sophomore album Superache, Cone sings “You love her, it’s over.” Here the pronoun suggests that the person he dated is queer. If it was a straight presenting relationship and he dated a girl, he would be singing about the girl falling in love with another girl after Cone and her broke up. Or, if he was dating a boy, the boy would like girls and boys because they had dated Conan. 

This portrayal of queerness, as well as Cone’s androgynous style and pride-flag-waving at concerts allows people to accept his queerness even though he typically does not speak out about the queer community (although he has in a few interviews). Suddenly, when Harry does many of these things, it’s seen as queerbaiting, which is a dangerous double standard. 

  1. If You Haven’t Faced Discrimination, You’re Not Queer

I see this a lot in ace discourse, and that is that ace people can’t possibly be queer because they’re not discriminated against. First of all, that right there is discrimination because you’re dismissing our identity as queer. And secondly, being queer is not a competition of who has it the hardest. Basing queerness on who is the most oppressed is a dangerous and invalidating game. 

The only reason we’re discriminated against is because of people holding up the cisheteropatriarchy. The people who cause us the most harm are straight, cisgender, white people. 

The only thing that makes you queer is your experiences outside the cisgender and heterosexual experience. Asexuals are queer because we experience attraction outside of the norm. Something as simple as our existence and our different approaches to romantic and sexual relationships puts us outside of the binary. Our relationship to our sexuality impacts our gender expression and experiences in a cisgender heterosexual world. 

Not to mention that many ace people are not straight or cisgender. And for the aces who are, it’s up to them to decide if queer is a label they want to use. 

Additionally, the Oppression Olympics allows queer people to continue to be discriminated against by straight people in order to prove our querness. Just because I haven’t been hate-crimed doesn’t mean I’m any less gay than someone who, unfortunately, has. 

  1. Internalized Homophobia is the Queer Person’s Fault 

We see this a lot with politicians, where supposedly straight anti gay male politicians are caught having sex with a man. Oh my god! They’ve been queer all along! That’s why they’re homophobic! It’s because they can’t accept themselves!

This then leads people to believe that everyone who is homophobic is secretly gay. Is it true that there are people who are homophobic because they’re suffering with internalized homophobia? Yes, of course. But simply saying that every homophobic person is gay places the blame entirely on queer people. 

Assuming that every homophobic person is gay allows the blame to be placed onto a marginalized community and never lets the true oppressor take fault for their violent actions. 

Are secret gay people really the ones murdering trans women? Assaulting lesbian couples? Misgendering and bullying nonbinary kids to the point of suicide? No. 

Racist people aren’t racist because they’re secretly Black. That logic makes no sense. 

Homophobia is a systemic issue, and is being upheld by straight, cisgender, white men. The only people who should be blamed for homophobia are the people who are actively hurting the queer community. 

  1. There’s a “Right” Way to be Queer

Apparently there’s a “right” way to be queer. Sure, we can get married and adopt kids. Yeah, transexual people should be gendered correctly. Sure, we can dye our hair and hold hands with the person we love. 

But, god forbid we exist outside of the gender binary, or use neopronouns, or look too alternative, because suddenly we’re making the community look like a joke. Straight people won’t take us seriously. Republicans will continue to vote against us if we aren’t “normal.”

Spoiler alert: there’s no “right” way to be queer. Queerness exists on a spectrum, and that experience looks different for everyone. 

Let us all remember that social media is not real. It is all online. It is not what you see in real life. I see a lot of online discourse from people within the queer community saying that there are queer people who we “do not claim.” These are typically gender nonconforming people who have extravagant makeup and use neopronouns that we see on social media. While some people might not understand this, the truth of the matter is that people within the community worry they are ruining our credibility to non-queer people. 

Their logic is that straight people can understand those who are gay and lesbian, maybe trans people too, but when people use bug/bugself neopronouns, that’s a step too far. That is too queer, and it makes the “normal” queer people look like idiots. Because surely if we call our friend by their neopronouns and their chosen name is Stick, then we’re just hopping on the gay agenda. 

The truth is that these people are never going to accept us. Also, it just doesn’t matter. These people we see online who are supposedly being queer in the “wrong” way are just that, online. The people I’ve met in real life who are trans or nonbinary or have chosen their name and use neopronouns are real genuine people. They are kind and cool and, shockingly, not that different from me. They simply want to exist and be supported. Frankly, everyone does, no matter your gender or sexuality. 

For laughs and giggles, let’s say you do meet a real person who uses bug/bugself pronouns, and wears a ton of eyeliner and makes those weird movements you see on TikTok. They’re probably fine people. And if they’re not, if they’re hating on allo/cishet people and are mad when people misgender them, assuming everyone understands neopronouns, that’s on them. No one is going to understand your identity right away. As much as you want them to, as upsetting as it is, that’s life. Plus there are a ton of “normal” (aka cis/het) people who are weirdos. There are “normal” people who are crazy. Whacko! Insane! Look at the politicians we elect and the people we support! Look at the woman running the Libs of TikTok account calling out random school teachers and queer people for existing or having pride flags in their classrooms. She targets these normal people and then allows her followers to harass them on social media, and spread their personal information revealing their home address and place of employment. Then she claims her account is not responsible for her fans calling in bomb threats to schools! That’s pretty freakin’ whack. 

These groups queer people are trying to win over are mostly Republicans, and in their eyes the only “right” way to be queer is to not be queer at all. 

Republicans aren’t going to accept their quiet next door lesbian neighbors, and they sure as hell aren’t going to support their idea of queer people which is cat-litter-using-furry-plant-named gen Z kids. 

Harry Styles isn’t queerbaiting. Oppression isn’t a competition. Internalized homophobia is not our fault, and there is no right way to be queer. 

Asexual Books You Should and Shouldn’t Read

As an English major, an asexual, and a writer, I think it is only fitting that I discuss what asexual books are good, and which ones are…not so good. Now, I have obviously not read every book about asexuality to ever exist, but I have read a couple, and I definitely have opinions on them. I am always looking to read more about asexual characters and experiences, so maybe one day we’ll have a part two.

Also, there is an issue with underrepresentation with ace stories, so my selection to choose form is not incredibly large. However there are a good number of ace stories I haven’t read, and definitely plan to work my way through. 

Anyway, here are the books on asexuality that you should and shouldn’t read: 

  1. Ace: What Asexuality Reveals About Desire, Society, and the Meaning of Sex – Angela Chen

Ace was the first book I read on asexuality, and arguably the most well known book about the ace experience. I really enjoyed this book, and out of all the books I’ve listed, I found this one the most educational. There were some personal stories shared by the author about her romantic partner that I found frustrating to read. That was mostly due to the author’s insecurity and struggle with her ace identity. It was a very personal thing to include, it just wasn’t relatable to me as an ace person. She discussed great points of intersectionality in the community such as race, gender nonconformity, and disability. This was certainly the most thought provoking read on asexuality.

Rating: 4.5/5 (I previously gave this book a 10/10 when I talked about it here but I think that might be a touch too high). 

Would I recommend it? Yes! I would recommend this to people in the community, other queer people, and allies looking for a deep dive into understanding the ace experience. 

Would I read again? Yes!

  1. I Am Ace – Cody Daigle-Orians

I Am Ace is written by social media content creator Cody Daigle-Orians. Cody is best known for their YouTube Channel, Ace Dad Advice. I occasionally watch their videos and decided to read their book to support an ace creator, my local bookstores, and to see if I, a reasonably well-educated ace, could learn anything from a book that was deemed one for “beginners.” 

Turns out I had so many more opinions than I thought I would. 

First of all, I hate the font. The font is weird and not dark enough and there is so much space in the margins and the words that are too big just jump all the way down to the next line leaving big awkward gaps where words are supposed to be. There were a lot of sentences in parentheticals which felt odd to me. The format of the book itself felt out of place. There were big bold questions and bullet points and lists and it didn’t read like a novel at times. 

Additionally, and this is something I’ve found throughout Cody’s content, there was a lot of repetition about the stereotypes of asexuality. Listen, it is important to bring awareness to stereotypes and prejudices in the community, but as an ace person who has heard those, and has never experienced them myself, it was quite annoying. I don’t need to be reminded that people think I’m broken and weird. And even if I had heard those things about my sexuality, I don’t need to be reminded of it!

There were also a lot of bad analogies and ones that just didn’t make sense to me. 

I learned about fictosexual and felt aphobic. Fictosexual is where people only experience sexual attraction to fictional characters and not people…listen…I’m all for supporting other aces…but are some of these micro labels going a bit too far?!

There were a few good things about this book. The personal anecdotes Cody told about themselves and their partners were interesting. There were some good discussions at times about ace joy and experiences, but overall the cons outweigh the pros. 

Rating: 2/5 

Would I recommend it? Probably not. I could see this beginning good for an ally wanting an introduction to quality, but honestly there are better books. 

Would I read again? No.

  1. A Quick and Easy Guide to Asexuality – Molly Muldoon and Will Hernandez 

This book was exactly what it was titled. This was a graphic novel written by two aces to give new or younger aces an introduction into the community. 

I read it in one sitting and even had my mom read it who found it educational but also confusing. 

Because it was a beginner guide I wasn’t sure exactly what I was going to learn, but even I learned something new! Turns out axolotls are a mascot for the ace community. I don’t know exactly why, probably because of the ace-olotl meme. But I don’t really need a reason. They’re cool so I’ll take them. 

The only thing this book didn’t discuss was the more inner-community jokes and stereotypes such as aces love cake and garlic bread (those things were on the cover but weren’t discussed at length). It didn’t mention ace rings, but honestly I could see them making a part two and it would be really cute. 

Rating: 4/5 

Would I recommend it? Yes! This book would be great for anyone. Aces, allos, other queer people, young people, older people, everyone! 

Would I read again? Yes but it was so short and simple I didn’t feel the need to go out of my way to relearn anything or revisit it because I knew a lot already. 

  1. Gender Queer: a Memoir – Maia Kobabe

I got this book for free at school during banned book week and read it in one day

While writing this post I decided to read the reviews, and oh boy were people mad. Now, I don’t know what libraries this book was in, but according to some very angry people it was in elementary school libraries. 

I doubt that.

However, if it were, people definitely have a right to be mad because this book is not for kids, however it is definitely for those over the age of thirteen, and if this were in a high school library that would be acceptable. There are some sexual images, but honestly they were quite mild. If I, a sex averse ace, can handle them certainly an allosexual 60 year old republican can too. 

This book was good, I can see this book being important for those figuring out their gender. This person shared real struggles,and although they were not ones I faced, and I sometimes did not agree with how e handled things, that doesn’t mean it’s a bad book. This was one person’s real experience, and e are obviously a talented individual who just wanted to share eir story. 

No, this book was not indoctrinating kids. No, this book was not pornography as some angry republicans think. This book is for teenagers and adults looking to read a book about someone who isn’t a cisgender straight white man. 

Out of all the books I read on this list this one is the least about asexuality. Although the author is asexual, this story was more about eir journey to figure out eir gender and eir asexuality was more of a subplot. This was also the only book I’ve read where someone uses exclusively neopronouns. At times the author seemed to be a bit insecure and lacked confidence to truly express themselves. This is obviously a relatable issue, but can be somewhat difficult (and by difficult I mean kind of annoying) to read. This person also talked about eir experience with receiving pap smears, and honestly I hope they talk to someone about it because they had an awful experience. I do think however they could have included more about how e should have handled that because it came across as scary and painful and overall bad, perpetuating the idea that reproductive health is scary and something you should avoid which is not a message we need to be sending. 

Rating: 3/5

Would I recommend it? Sure!

Would I read again? Probably not. It was good but personally I’m not a big graphic novel person so I don’t typically reach for this kind of book.

  1. Loveless – Alice Oseman

I talked (or yelled) about this novel here. 

As for fictional books representing asexuality, this is probably the most popular, and for good reasons. This is the only book on this list where the character is also aromantic. I usually read books about asexual alloromantic characters because that speaks to my experience the most. The diversity in this book was great, the topics discussed were relatable, and friendship was prioritized. 

Rating: 5/5

Would I recommend it? Yes 100%!

Would I read again? Definitely. Everytime I see this book in stores I think about how I want to reread it. 

I’m currently reading Refusing Compulsory Sexuality by Sherronda Brown, so I’m sure one day I’ll have another post dedicated to ace books. Until then!

Hyper-Femininity, the Male Gaze, and Androgyny – How I Express my Sexuality Through Clothing

As I’ve talked about many times before, it’s difficult for me to articulate my gender in a way I feel makes sense. That’s because I feel a connection between my sexuality as as queer ace person and how I present myself as a person. Simply put, I express my sexuality through my clothing, so even though I’m a cisgender female, I also just simply feel like a queer asexual person as a whole. My asexuality allows me to see the world differently, so I don’t see people as being sexually attractive, and therefore don’t see myself as a sexual being. I’m simply just a gal living life who is queer.  

Additionally, I know how my presentation is being read out in the world by the masses. I look very, very feminine a lot of the time. A lot of the time what feels feminine to me, what feels androgynous or masculine on my body, is not necessarily perceived from others the way it is perceived by me, the person picking out, wearing, and enjoying my clothes. 

I would put my style into two categories: the first being a woodland fairy, and the second being a slightly emo middle school boy. The former is where I wear lots of earth tones, long skirts, little lacy tank tops, and of course extravagant matching eye shadow. The ladder is where I throw on jorts and a band t-shirt, probably with some eyeliner or a darker makeup look. 

Some days I want to dress in a more masculine or androgynous way, and I’ve know I’ve won when my sister (in a joking way of course) says I “look like a they/them today.” Although that might not be the most politically correct way for her to say that, what she’s really saying is that I look queer and androgynous, so I take it as a compliment. 

I love both of these looks equally, and recently have been really into doing my makeup. All through high school I did my makeup every single morning, but when I got to college, I didn’t bother. Why wear makeup when I could sleep in and hit ten hours of sleep? My second semester I did my makeup occasionally, and now, back at school for my sophomore year, I do it everyday. 

I wear makeup because it’s fun. Just like painting my nails, which I religiously do, I use it to express myself, my creativity, and my queerness. I do understand that this makes me present as a very feminine person. I have long hair with streaks of orange, I wear full face of makeup, and my nails are long and always painted, obviously with rings stacked on my fingers. 

Side note, I’ve never worn makeup because I felt like I had to, or because I wouldn’t be pretty without it. I wear makeup because yes, it’s a confidence booster, but it makes me feel good and I love the process of applying it, so I wear it for myself as cliche as that is. Just like my clothing, it’s a way for me to express myself no matter what other people think. But, I will say, I think people are impressed by my makeup, and when I do more extravagant looks with glitter and color, I do receive compliments. So it’s nice to know other people appreciate my artistry and self expression even if green eye shadow isn’t the most conventional look. 

However, doing all of these things doesn’t make me feel more feminine as one might think. It doesn’t make me feel more like a girl. It simply makes me feel like me. 

Long story short, I say all this to illustrate the point that just because I dress feminine a lot of the time, doesn’t necessarily mean I identify a lot with femininity. Although I do, a large part of my disconnect is due to my queerness and asexuality. I do not fit in the cisgender heterosexual idea of femininity because I am not those things. In the world of young female adults, I fit into some areas 100%, while others I am extremely disconnected from. 

Also recently I’ve been incredibly annoyed with being referred to as certain feminine identifiers. For example, at my last job, my boss would say “Bye girls!” and the emphasis on girls felt really condescending. Or if a waiter says “What can I get you ladies?” First of all, you’re assuming the parties genders, and yeah, call me a snowflake, but my rule of thumb is, if someone looks queer, don’t assume their gender. And that’s probably just a personal annoyance, but oh well. Secondly, there’s a stupid patriarchal connotation with feminine words being less than, and even though I for one know women are not less than men, it feels…icky. 

Recently I’ve been super interested in the idea  of hyper-femininity. The other day, when I was doing research (kidding I was scrolling on TikTok)  I heard someone say how cool it was that hyper-femininity is queer.

This blew my mind! I absolutely love that because dressing in a hyper femme way (one might call this a bimbo and, for example, where sexual clothing, pink, lots of glitter and heavy makeup) rejects the patriarchy because women, or people, are self aware of their femininity and they take control over it. Their clothing becomes politically conscious and they are empowered through sexuality and autonomy. (One would argue that this also submits to the patriarchy due to people dressing in a sexualized feminine way, which is what men want but I chose to ignore that claim).

In a way, this rejects the male gaze because men don’t typically go for the girl wearing bright pink eye shadow and matching earrings. And as a queer person, that’s pretty awesome. 

When I first came out my style changed a bit, and became a bit more androgynous. I wanted to dress and look like other queer people did, so I dyed my hair, I wore flannels, and I bought rainbow shoes. I did things that read obviously queer. I wore love is love shirts. Now, I did this for myself. I have never, and will never, dress in a way that doesn’t make me feel like me, or dress in a way that pleases other people. I dressed stereotypically queer to make myself feel confident in my sexuality, and there is nothing wrong with that. I didn’t want to feel straight, and certain styles made me feel that way. 

Now I am the most confident in my sexuality I have ever been, and my style makes me feel as queer as ever. I can never imagine not having dyed hair, or not wearing funky earrings and doing my makeup with bright, bold colors. 

People have been assuming my sexuality my whole life, and there are certain ways people dress where people don’t assume your sexuality. Tomboys must be lesbians, and feminine boys must be gay. What about me? What about queer aces? Now I dress in a way that reads as queer, simply because I am queer. My clothes are queer because I am a queer person. My clothes are queer because they are on a queer body. My music taste and activities I do are queer because I am a queer person. I see the world through a queer lens because that is who I am. 

Also, it’s finally come to my attention that I don’t dress for the male gaze. That might seem like a ridiculous statement after all of the things I’ve said, but men are weird and I don’t really understand them, so I often wondered why I’ve never been hit on by a man, or received any sort of male attention (not that I want it by any means, I was simply curious). Turns out, it’s because my appearance isn’t what men want. As I write this, I’m wearing more blush than Trixie Mattel, and my eye shadow is purple and green, and my hair has recently been dyed bright orange. That’s not what most  men find conventionally attractive. Of course there is always an exception, and some certainly do, but the majority seem to want the long blonde hair, basic Lululemon wearing teenage girls that surround me at university. There’s nothing wrong with that style obviously, it’s just not me, and it is what straight cisgender men typically want. These girls wear natural makeup, if any, they have natural hair colors, and they wear leggings and crop tops. If I’m going to wear makeup, you’re going to notice. And if I’m in a boring outfit, it’s because I’m at the gym or in my pajamas going to bed.

However, thanks to the patriarchy, I am also a subject for male fantasy. I’m queer. I’m asexual. I’m unattainable. I’m a challenge. Some men would want to win the sex-rejecting sapphic. Thankfully I don’t know any men like that, and I try not to think about it because that is truly disgusting. 

This was the second time I’ve written this blog post, so for my sanity, I hope it makes sense. All in all, there’s a direct correlation between my sexuality and my gender expression. That’s all I’ve got for this week, so until them, stay gay or *insert a better outro than that.*

The Underlying (but obvious) Queerness in Ever After High 

If you don’t know…I am addicted to crocheting. I learned how to crochet over winter break in December, and have made many, many projects since then. Now  it’s summer break and I have all the time in the world to crochet (besides going to work obviously, I have to make money for yarn somehow). I love crocheting and making clothes and buying yarn and spending hours watching tutorials and creating never-ending lists of projects I want to make. 

However, something I think many crocheters could agree with is that background noise is necessary, and sometimes music doesn’t quite cut it. This obviously means I need a television show to watch; specifically one that is easy to follow since I’ll be staring at a ball of yarn 80% of the time. 

I’ve watched YouTube, movies, listened to music, and crocheted in silence. But, a gal can only rewatch Heartstopper so many times before she needs a new show. Thankfully for me, I have stumbled upon a category that I love, and, as you probably guess by the title of this post, that category is children’s cartoons.

My love of cartoons blossomed with the show The Loud House, and grew immensely when I watched The Owl House (I clearly like shows about houses). Both of those shows have explicit queer representation, and are newer shows, so for this blog post, I won’t be talking about them, but just know they’re great and The Loud House has an awesome spin off show about a multi-generational Mexican-American family called The Casagrandes

I usually spend an unreasonable amount of time scrolling on Netflix searching for something to watch, and just the other week I stumbled upon a television show based on a book series I read in the fifth grade: Ever After High. I remembered loving the books and even collecting the dolls, so I obviously had to dive right into the show to see if it was as good as I remember. Obviously it was, because it was so, so queer. Now, this show is actually “straight” because there is no obvious explicit queer representation, but listen, I have eyes, and the queer-coded-ness of this show is clear. 

Today I’ll be talking about the seemingly obvious queerness in television that is made for children through Ever After High. I’ve also been watching Gravity Falls (which is SO good), but I haven’t finished the series yet, so I’ll save that analysis for another day.

In case you’ve never heard of the show here’s a quick summary: 

Ever After High is a boarding school in the fairytale world that hosts the sons and daughters of fairytale characters as they lead up to Legacy Day, where they sign the Storybook of Legends to pledge to follow in their parents footsteps. However, Raven Queen, the daughter of the Evil Queen, refuses to follow in her mother’s footsteps, causing conflict among characters and forcing differences between the Royals and Rebels, those who are following their destiny, and those who aren’t. 

Here are all of the reasons Ever After High is queer: 

  1. Stereotypically Queer Hair and Outfits

Blah blah blah we know there is no way that your clothes or your appearance makes you queer, but, there are definitely some trends in the appearance of queer people; alternative styles, androgyny, dyed hair, and over the top – or camp – outfits. Those things don’t make you queer, but they are common in the queer community and in Ever After High. 

Going along with these stereotypes, all we have to do is simply look over at our Ever After High characters for 0.2 seconds and you can see how obviously queer they look. They have bright colorful hair, camp outfits, and they love a theme. Their outfits are arguably different from past Disney fairytales, and in my opinion, take a lot of inspiration from drag culture. All of the girls have intense eye makeup, big colorful hair, and beautifully detailed and elaborate dresses. 

The appearance of the characters in this show look queer, and their names are spin offs of their fairytale parents, once again, something found in drag culture!

  1.  LGBTQIA+ Flag Coding 

Throughout the show it is super easy to see the color patterns of many LGBTQIA+  flags. This is seen mainly through the outfits the characters wear in their signature colors. 

Raven Queen wears a lot of purple and black, with hints of white and gray, obvious colors of the asexual flag. 

Darling Charming wears light pink, blue and white, colors of the trans flag. 

Apple White wears red, pink and white, sunset colors that match the lesbian flag. 

  1. Characters Go Against the Status Quo

Even if we ignore the queerness of the character’s appearance, their actions are inherently queer due to many of the characters going against the status quo. It is expected that the students follow their parents’ destinies by signing the Storybook of Legends and continue to keep tradition alive. However, our main character, Raven Queen, doesn’t want to grow up to be like her mother. She wants to create her own future and choose her own destiny, to be herself without others telling her how to live just because it is seemingly “tradition.” 

  1. And They Were Roommates!

Apple White (the daughter of Snow White) and Raven Queen start out as enemies, due to Raven going against the status quo and Apple needing Raven to play her part in order for her story to go according to plan. Apple convinces the headmaster to have her switch roommates and live with Raven to try to get her back on the straight and narrow path. However, they begin to see each other’s sides and are roommates during this entire time. They become friends, and there is some serious lesbian tension going on between them. It’s giving enemies to friends to lovers. 

  1. “Patriarchal” Expectations  

Although there is no actual patriarchy in this fairytale land, there is definitely a larger force holding up expectations that the younger generation of fairytale characters to follow. 

Apple grew up with a classic example of a heterosexual patriarchal mother. Her mom is white, youthful, feminine, and beautiful. She literally had her prince charming save her. This caused Apple to grow up seeing one way of life, and now as a teenager learns that there is more than one path for her to take. 

Apple accidentally eats a poison apple, and her boyfriend, Prince Charming, who she had been dating because history expects them to end up together, doesn’t save her. His kiss doesn’t wake her up. Instead, his sister, Darling Charming, gives Apple mouth-to-mouth, which wakes her from her sleep. Once Apple realizes that Daring might not be her prince charming, she is no longer interested in him. She has the ability to see past what is expected of her to be interested in other boys…or girls…as well as focus on her platonic friendships. 

I would just like to acknowledge that the writers of this show had to know what they were doing when they let a princess kiss Apple to wake her from her sleep instead of a prince…gay.

Now, here’s some other aspects that makes me believe the characters are queer (plus which identities I think they have):

Apple White -femme lesbian. She’s totally in love with Raven. 

Raven Queen – biromantic asexual. Her outfit gives ace flag and obviously we have to have an ace character. Plus, she likes a boy, Dexter Charming (who I totally ship her with), but I can also see her being with Apple or her best friend, Maddie.

Madeline (Maddie) Hatter – pansexual and uses all pronouns and neopronouns. I have no reasoning for this one other than that it just makes sense. 

Cerise Hood – she/they bisexual. She looks so bisexual. The red and black outfit. The bangs and silver strip of dyed hair. Plus, she is the daughter of Red Riding Hood and the Wolf, but keeps her wolf identity hidden which is so queer coded and genderfluid/non-binary/demigirl. (I haven’t decided which but all I know is that Cerise is so not cisgender). 

Alistair Wonderland – trans. A very large portion of the characters in this show are the same gender as their parents, but Alistair, son of Alice, isn’t, and he just looks so trans masc. 

Darling Charming – trans lesbian. Her outfit is giving trans flag and she literally saved Apple with a kiss. Gay. 

God. I love this show. I love a queer analysis. I can’t wait to watch more cartoons and write about how gay they are. 

Gender…?

Today we’re going to talk about something I rarely write about.

Gender. 

Why? you ask. Well, I’ve never written about my own experience with gender for two reasons. The first one is that as a cisgender female, I felt I had little to say about my own experience as a person whose gender identity doesn’t affect the level of homophobia I face. Obviously, as a female, there are definitely issues that come with that due to our patriarchal society, but I can say with one hundred percent certainty that my experiences as a woman, and the problems I could possibly face, are nowhere near the struggles and oppression my trans or non-binary friends and community face. There is truly no comparison, especially since I am a white cis female. 

As for the second reason…I have a very difficult time trying to explain my gender. Not because I’m not cis, but because once I start thinking about it, I end up in a crisis, and suddenly gender and stereotypes and everything around me feel made up and all I can do is sit and stare at the wall thinking about how everything around me is fake. 

Now. That’s a bit dramatic. But if you really think about it, there is no way to be a man or a woman. Everything we know about “how” to be a specific gender is merely holding up stereotypes upheld by the patriarchy. And when you strip all of those away and let go of those stereotypes you are left with literally nothing. There is no way to be a certain gender. The only way to experience gender is through feelings. And yes, those stereotypes can help many people feel connected to gender through physical appearance and perception, but that only helps add to the feeling. 

For example; if you identified as a male, you could feel really connected to your gender by going to the gym, wearing masculine clothing, or having a short haircut. That’s great. But, even without all of those physical identifiers or actions, you can still identify as a man. Taking away those physical traits, or ones society perceives as masculine, doesn’t take away your identity as a male. I really hope that makes sense. 

Anyway, onto my own gender. 

Before I dived headfirst into the LGBTQIA+ community, I had never really questioned my gender. I had always been pretty stereotypically feminine. I wore dresses and makeup and painted my nails and had long hair. Once I got to a point of understanding my sexuality and basically going with the flow of “I like who I like,” the same ended up applying to my gender. 

“I feel how I feel.” 

Yes. I’m a female. I use she/her pronouns. People perceive me as a female because of how my body looks and how I present myself. That’s chill. 

The thing is…I don’t really care how people perceive me. I don’t need people to go out of their way to use different pronouns for me. But, if someone referred to me with gender-neutral phrases or feminine ones, I’d just be going on my merry way. Masculine phrases aren’t my favorite, but I don’t have a problem with them, and at the end of the day they’re just words.  I know this is not the case for everyone, and words definitely do have an effect, but for me, it’s not the biggest deal with how people perceive my gender. And honestly, if strangers out in the world saw me and referred to me with gender-neutral pronouns because they didn’t know how I identified, I would prefer that, because that is making a more accepting space for those who aren’t cisgender. 

Additionally, stereotypically feminine things don’t necessarily make me feel more feminine. I paint my nails and wear makeup because it makes me feel like me. Not because it makes me feel more like a woman, maybe it does subconsciously, but I have never put on a dress and felt more like a woman. Plus, literally anyone of any gender could paint their nails or wear eyeliner and that doesn’t make them female. 

I’m just me. I’m just a person living on planet earth going through life. I don’t need labels for how I exist. I’m doing just that. Existing.