Yes it’s time to say it again. Not particularly because I think it’ll stop people calling me it, but at least it lets me vent, and why have a blog if you can’t vent when you need it?
Do not call me queer. Yes I’ve said it before and I’ll probably say it 100 times more. Do not call me Queer. I don’t care what the word means to you or how you identify or why – that’s your identity and your label, not mine. Do not use it to refer to me.
And don’t try to poke or police me into accepting the label. Don’t make assumptions about me because I refuse to use your preferred terms.
My using the word gay doesn’t make me conformist. It doesn’t mean I’m not an activist. It doesn’t mean I secretly want to be straight. It doesn’t mean I’m not REALLY fighting for equality. It doesn’t mean I’m not a real gay man. It doesn’t mean I don’t REALLY face discrimination or that I don’t know what prejudice and bigotry really means. Pack up your shaming and get the fuck out if you think these things because I am beyond sick of it.
To me that word is attached to my bones that ache because they’ve been broken. That word is attached to the scars on my arms and my back. That is a word of my nightmares and memories that still haunt me. I take a cocktail of pills to keep my brain working because of the echoes of that word. You have no right to decide I should use and claim this word. You have no right to demand I just swallow that and “get over it” and move on so I can follow your word choice.
My life. My being. My labels. Respect them or get out, simple as.