Columns, Opinion

REYNOLDS: What’s in a Name?

I want to end my time as an LGBT columnist for The Daily Free Press by talking about my own personal identity. As I have mentioned in some of my past articles, I identify as queer. That might be a label you aren’t familiar with, so let me break it down for you.

Before FYSOP, I had only heard of the word “queer” being used as a slur or an insult … never a label someone chose. Queer is a reclaimed term. It has power. FYSOP introduced me to queer as an umbrella term. It spans both sexuality and gender while covering anyone who identifies as not straight and/or cisgender.

When I first learned about the label “queer,” I still identified as straight. It was the week before college. I participated in FYSOP under the issue area of Gender Focus, and two of my staff members identified as queer but used the term to mean slightly different things.

The ambiguity and openness of the term “queer” appealed to me. My sexuality feels fluid and changes from time to time. It’s also less about the person’s gender and more about the person. “Bisexual” didn’t feel right to me, because it wasn’t true that I experienced my sexuality equally or within a binary. Queer, on the other hand, makes people ask instead of assume.

When I was redefining my sexuality to something that more accurately reflected my own experiences, behaviors and attractions, I had a hard time choosing a label. Many of my friends who didn’t exist in fluidity, both gay and straight, told me I shouldn’t stress about a label. I didn’t need one.

Even if I didn’t need a label for others, I still needed one for myself. It’s a validating thing. My experiences exist, and there’s a word for it. Finding solidarity within a label also gives you access to a community and combats the feeling of isolation. It also made me feel less like an imposter without one.

The ambiguity of queer feels right to me, and it feels safe. No one can criticize me for my partner choice if I keep it open for debate. So even though I can only see myself in long-term relationships with women, if I happen to meet a man who I fall in love with, it’s ok. No one’s going to call me a liar.

Queer has a political history behind it that resonates with me. It’s a radical label that calls for revolution. Loving someone of the same gender is no longer the radical act it once was. However, I don’t believe that we should forget where we came from.

On Tuesday, lawyers argued at the U.S. Supreme Court for marriage equality nationwide. That is a huge step compared to how queer people were treated just 20-30 years ago. Thirty years ago during the AIDS epidemic, queer people were just happy to be alive. Marriage wasn’t even on our minds.

But as I pointed out in the first column I wrote this semester, LGBT people have a long way to go for true equality on all fronts. We are still fighting battles in regard to workplace discrimination, gender identity rights, youth homelessness, health care access and more. Queer reminds us that the battle does not end with marriage.

As I’ve mentioned before, queer is an academic term. Today, we talk about progressive things such as Queer Theory in our university classrooms — we’ve come so far! But in reality, that’s problematic. Academia and universities profit off queerness and claim how progressive and diverse the university is. They feel that hopefully, if they offer at least one queer studies course, they can keep the few LGBT students happy and quiet. At the same time, they are limiting access to this knowledge because you can only know it by going to college, a luxury not everyone, especially LGBT people, can afford.

The university system is using our own word against us. This hypocrisy and privilege is something that I have struggled with. Queer is a label that is not available to everyone or free to use, but it still describes me. For now, I have decided to continue using it, but try my best to be aware of the implications it comes with.

In the LGBT-world, labels are important. People question why we need to add every letter of the alphabet to our acronym. Just remember that every label you complain is too much, is a label for a person who thought they were broken that now validates their existence. Labels do matter.

As I wrap up my time here as the LGBT columnist, I challenge everyone to interrogate the labels and names that you identify with, both sexually, culturally and otherwise. What does it really mean? What are the implications? Too many people use labels without thinking. Too many people think labels are meaningless, when in fact they hold so much.

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