And then I came out.
And, let me tell you, not much happened. I got no sassy gay best friend. My "gaydar" didn't pop on to tell me which, if any, people in my life might now be interested in dating me. The "community," it seemed, was ignoring me. But what did happen was that I slowly became more aware of and enveloped into an online world of activism and awareness. And I'm still stuck here wondering...what makes us a "Community?"
First of all, there really isn't that much concession on who "belongs" inside of this community of sexual deviance. Yes, we have the standard "LGBT," which everyone knows means Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender. (Or is it Transsexual?! And, do Bi people really exist?!?! Do they belong?!) And then you have the occasionally tacked on Q, for questioning. (Or, wait a moment, is it for "Queer?") Last but not least, the also occasional A, for our our asexual friends!
But what about the agenders? The polysexuals? The sadomasochists? The bilinguals?! The straight people who just want to belong?! (I'm looking at you, "Allies"). Where does the alphabet end? Where does the inclusion stop?
I often get frustrated with the hodgepodge of letters thrown into our gender and sexuality alphabet soup. I understand the need for true "questioning" folks to be able to go for help and information, but do our straight cisgender allies really need to be here? (Don't get me wrong, straight cisgender friends, I love you. You have the ability to make babies, and that's cool. But why are you in my Pride parade?) Are we at the point where sexual deviancy and gender deviancy need to be divided into different communities? Why should a straight transgender person care about the right for gay and bisexual people to marry?
There are those, however, who believe it is best for our community to grow even further and take charge of the public. In Queer Revolution not Mere Inclusion, organized by group Against Equality, author Kate Bornstein makes an interesting point in her "Open Letter to LGBT Leaders Who Are Pushing Marriage Equality." She states that this "inclusive alphabet bullshit," as I tend to call it, may actually be a good thing:
"Looking into the community of people who base their lives on sexuality and gender, there's a lot of door opening to do. Beyond L, G, B, and T, there's also Q for queer and Q for questioning. There's an S for sadomasochists, an I for intersex, an F for feminists, and another F for furries. Our community is additionally composed of sex educators, sex workers, adult entertainers, pornographers, men who have sex with men, women who have sex with women, and asexuals who have sex with no one but themselves. You want to create some real change? Make room for genderqueers, polyamorists, radical faeries, butches, femmes, drag queens, drag kings, and other dragfuck royalty too fabulous to describe in this short letter.
There are more people to add to this ever-growing list of communities whom you must own as family and represent in your activism. You cannot afford -- politically, economically, or morally -- to leave out a single person who bases a large part of their identity on being sex positive or in any way a proponent on gender anarchy." 25-26
It is that last point, that we cannot afford "politically, economically, or morally" to leave out all the fringe groups that might not initially seem to fit into this "community," that pulls my attention most. Who are we, the fringe societies, to say who does and who does not belong? If we truly fight for liberation and revolution, we need all the soldiers we can get. So let's make room for everyone who wants to get involved and mix this alphabet soup up as much as it can get.
(Except, straight cisgender allies, I still don't know if you belong in my pride parade...)
