Pride and Privilege

Who am I? Well, I am not who I was raised to be.

Based on the expectations I grew up with, I should be a college-educated, upper middle class, white Christian woman in a monogamous heterosexual marriage with two to four children and a steady career as a white-collar professional. That is who I was raised to be.

That is not who I am. 

I do have two college degrees, a good income, and I’m still white. But I’m transmasculine, polyamorous, kinky… just generally queer. However, I’m in little to no danger from being outed. Who are you going to tell? My parents? My kids? My boss? They all know about me; I’m in no danger there. All that taken together translates into something a lot of my fellow queer people don’t have… Privilege. Let’s call it something else, though… Protection. Insurance. Armor. Safety.

No, I’m not foolish enough to think I’m SAFE, exactly. But I’m SAFER. I live in a neighborhood where my very gay car with all its rainbow magnets and Pride flag can be parked overnight without too much fear that it will get vandalized. I can have rainbow flags on my porch and my deck with little more than some dirty side-eye from a few neighbors (and cheers from others). I live with other queer people and feel supported and safe in my own home. I can walk into most stores, wearing my vest and as many rainbows as I want, and not worry about how I’ll be treated, for the most part. And if something does happen, I can afford bail money and legal aid.

These are all things that many of those in my community can’t say. They don’t feel safe; they can’t easily look like who they are; they don’t have the support from people around them. They have to fit in and get along so they can pay their bills and take care of themselves. And that’s valid, too. Just because I can be ‘out and loud’ doesn’t mean that it’s for everyone. The closet is a necessary tool sometimes.

But for those of us that can be visibly out, I think it’s important to do so. It’s vital that those of us who can be visible, are.

For those quiet baby queers who have to stay in their closets, I need them to see me stomping around in my queerness and know that there is space outside. Space for them, when they are ready. I see them spot my gay car and bounce up and down in their own car cheering. I’ll cheer for them when they are ready, too.

For people who are conservative just because they’ve never experienced people who aren’t like them, I want to be available to be that first queer person they get to know - and find out that different from them doesn’t mean bad or wrong. I’m not out to convert them to being queer, just to being accepting. I’ll be their one queer friend.

For those who are angry at queer people and want to stamp us out… I want to be there for them, too. I want them to see the face of someone who isn’t afraid of them and won’t back down easily. I’ll stand in the parking lot and let them yell slurs at me; I can take it. I want to be there, showing them that they can’t always get their way. They are wrong, and they aren’t going to back me down with their anger. I’ll be their defiant target.

…

All of that… well, that’s who I am. I'm cheering on people who need the encouragement. I'm educating those who are ready for new ideas. And I'm defying the pressure to be who society tells me I'm supposed to be. I guess that IS who I was raised to be.