My grandmother thinks it’s not good to be queer in a world like this. Says, I’d still love you were you gay, but think of all the trouble you’d have. Thinks – but doesn’t say – that being queer is a tragedy.
I am not out to my grandmother but if I were I would like to tell her how wrong she is. The only tragedy I can see connected to my queerness is how long I have been denying it. Because for all the dangers our society poses to our community, denying who I am indefinitely sounds like the most horrifying option. Because coming out to myself (and this was a very gradual affair) was scary. And it felt like breaking free. I am convinced that freedom will always feel daunting to those who are not used to it, because anything one is not used to feels daunting. And freedom is such an enormous wild thing.
I wonder if that is why I am so often met with silence or an eagerness to change the topic – if not outright denial – when I tell people I am non-binary. It is the departure from rules they are used to. Rules that were not even regarded as such, but as unquestionable laws of nature.
Maybe it is similar to people trying to adjust to the concept of the Earth revolving around the Sun instead of vice versa. This progress in scientific understanding did not actually affect anyone’s life. The world still worked the same way, it was merely explained differently. And yet, there was resistance to this new idea. Probably not from the individual. But certainly from institutions with power over the individual. Either way, the facts were there, clearly in favour of the heliocentric (Sun centred) planet order and still there was a hesitance to leave the old and familiar theory – which until then had been accepted as fact – behind.
In both cases, I believe one should not underestimate the power of upbringing, tradition, and habit. That is not to excuse any dismissive, passive-agressive, or even violent behaviour. It is merely an attempt to understand the dissonance between others’ perception of ‘my identity’ – that is, me – and my own.
In my experience, the following appears to be a common experience for queer – especially non-cis – folks: We watch straight (as in non-queer) people, even the accepting ones, experience feelings like confusion, worry, fear, and even grief with respect to ‘our identity’ (us) where we tend to feel relief, joy, and something akin to the satisfaction of coming home.
I know this may not be true for every person I will ever interact with, but at least for my grandmother it is safe to assume that she only wants me to be happy. The challenge is the following: Her ideas about what makes me happy have to be aligned with my reality. I have often wished for some sort of emotion simulator where I could upload how I feel about finally accepting myself and being able to live openly queer. Then my grandmother – or anyone really – could connect to it and temporarily experience the magic of queer joy.
While this would be the easiest, it should by no means be the only way to communicate the euphoria connected to the queer experience. Without the aforementioned device we
require something from our straight friends that they are shockingly ungenerous with. Trust.
Because if I were to tell my grandmother, hey, I’m queer and I’m really happy with that! she would still tell me to really think this through again. She would tell me about the inevitable dangers that lurk in every corner waiting only for someone different to pass, so they can pounce and prey on them. I am no stranger to some of those dangers, definitely not ignorant of them. But the joy is inherent to my queerness while the dangers certainly are not. They are an artificial add-on from our society. I am sure there is still privilege in my views that others sadly are not granted, so I can speak with certainty only for myself: I am glad that I am queer.
Would you, grandma, trust me when I say that queerness is not a tragedy, but the key to my freedom?
Would you trust me enough to change your mind?
Malin Palm is an astrophysics student with a love for creative writing. Malin was community ambassador for the online platform Write the World and later published a short story in the anthology ́The Leaves Still Fallow. ́
