Since it's Pride Month, let's talk some more about being queer since I haven't in a while.

Recently a friend of mine made the distinction of individuals who are "queer" vs "just gay." This is something that made implicit sense to me but making sense of it in words might be a little trickier. It made me think a lot about how I think about people in my communities.

So this made me think about the common distinction I and others make between folks in my communities and "normies." What constitutes a normie is a topic that can get muddled. At goth nights it typically refers to the men in t-shirts and cargo shorts who come in to get drunk and hit on goth chicks. Within the punk circles I run in on occasion it refers to middle class white America who probably describe themselves as punk for doing something like paying taxes or voting. In my tabletop gaming circles it refers to people who don't really get into tabletop gaming. So what does it mean in my queer circles?

First of all, most everyone I associate with describes themselves as neurodivergent or even straight up autistic. And I do mean just about every single one, with the exceptions being various kinds of unconvincing, but far be it from me to assign community labels to anyone, especially if it's technically a diagnosis.

So when we talk about normies, it's usually with an air of dismissal and condescension. I am not excluded from this form of gatekeeping, and I should perhaps be more careful when throwing around the label. A gentleman who runs in several of my circles could easily be described as a normie at first glance and even first inspection, but once you see his dorky side you can never unsee it. The point is, we apply this distinction here with a grain of salt.

It's funny to me that we might have a specification for those who don't quite "fit" in our communities that's modeled on the word "normal." But it does make sense. After all, as queer folks ourselves we've been defined as being outside the norm, of being unusual compared to the rest of society, so it stands to reason that our out-group would be those who are "normal." Though who defined us that way?

Queer was once a slur employed by mainstream society in America toward anyone who might be seen as a part of the gay community in some way. Back in those days there was no widespread acronym, and it's not like your typical bigot would take the time to understand the difference between homosexuality, bisexuality, and trans identity. Or even just someone dressed nice.

At some point the term was reclaimed by the community as an umbrella term. Some of the younger folks disagree with that, but this is my post so they can fuck off.

These days, if someone wants to yell a slur, they'll probably pick just about anything except queer. I've certainly had a wide range yelled at me on the street.

So who says queer? Why, we do. And if we're queer, then who isn't?

So I'm the sort of person who enjoys wearing a vest and a tie. Though it's usually a fabulous paisley tie that reminds me of the movie Coco (2017). Sometimes with my sleeves rolled up, other times with no sleeves at all in times like the summer. I've been told I sometimes come off as strangely formal, which is probably how my neurodivergence manifests in most Tzimisce like fashion.

I've even been told multiple times I give "cop" energy, which is starting to really piss me off. But I think it stems from a little of my overly formal presentation, my intense personality, and the fact that I'm usually lowkey having some kind of anxiety attack.

My last ex is a trans nonbinary individual and once or twice our mutual friends would playfully yell "gay" at us when we were being affectionate. That felt appropriate. We referred to each other as partners. My previous exes mostly referred to me as their boyfriend regardless of their gender, though with Caitlin we used the term "significant other" which I enunciated out all the way because I thought it was funny, though I generally just call her my ex-girlfriend when the term applies.

But all of these were queer relationships because we were queer. I've been told that dating me isn't like dating a cis man, which was meant as a compliment even though I don't run with circles that particularly hate on men. I've been told that conversations and general interactions with me don't tend to go on like they do with cis men.

I've noticed I don't interact with cis men like I do folks outside that spectrum. I've noticed my friendships with men tend to revolve around activities and shared interests and when we hang out it's with the expectation that we're "doing something." Which is hard for me as someone who likes to just vibe with people.

Not saying I don't vibe with them, obviously. My friend Christopher and I only ever hang out to play a miniature war game like Trench Crusade or DnD or our group's occasional board game night. Santa (it's a nickname) is much the same. I consider them both good friends though we don't really click emotionally or have the kinds of conversations I like to have with people.

Most of my closest friends are women or at least close to it (in their words). The newer people in my life that I've managed to jive with are mostly nonbinary, some trans some not.

But all this still doesn't really answer what differentiates a normie from a queer. How is someone just gay and someone else queer?

Presentation is a part of it. My circles are in the Alt communities around Columbus, and so alt fashion is the norm. I'd say my specific style adheres most closely to the New Romantics but nobody really notices or cares. That said, I do stand out, even in that crowd.

Personality might factor in. Like I said before, everyone I know is on some kind of spectrum. I've been described as "a walking encyclopedia" even for things I am actually not very interested in. I always felt like an infodump is a common conversational style and being told it was unusual still strikes me as incorrect.

Then again, there's also some other factors. There are plenty of gay individuals who are highly transphobic. Lots of racism among gay whites. I've met my share of gay conservatives, and at least one who cited themselves as "impure" and even "ungodly" for their orientation. But more than one of them has found at least some welcome in the queer community around me.

It could simply be a term of separation between people I click with and people I don't. I certainly don't mean to drag my friend into the spotlight and I know they read this on occasion so my apologies if I sound like I've misrepresented your words.

Some folks might say I'm barely gay. If we use the kinsey scale (problematic enough on its own) I feel I hover around a 1. I've only had one or two boyfriends out of a slough of girlfriends. But then again, that doesn't really indicate much of anything does it?

So what makes me queer? Perhaps I should ask why I feel welcome in a queer community vs a gay community. I can't say I feel completely comfortable in an explicitly gay scene. Not only are they predominantly white but also the maleness is palpable.

One of the many reasons I am nonbinary is because of my constant discomfort in the culture of men. Every single person who has lived as a man can tell you about "locker room talk" which is just as gross as everyone says it is. Sexual harassment is practically a rite of passage among entirely too many men. And among gay men, being groped is not an unusual occurrence. We all know the stereotype of sexist nerds and I still remember how my skin crawled the first time I met someone I previously had thought was just a harmful stereotype. I don't find myself comfortable in those circles.

But there is more to it than men. At Pride back in 2015, it rained very hard on my group and we had to take shelter in a tent that was run by some lesbian bikers. The male presenting people among us had to testify to being "faggots" to be allowed in while the women were not questioned at all. The culture of white gayness sometimes rubs me the wrong way, but a shibboleth always makes me balk.

So does that mean I feel welcome in trans spaces? Well, now that I think of it, I do. I don't count myself as trans, and I guess the term that's used is cis nonbinary though I feel that's enforcing a different binary I don't believe in.

With that in mind, a few months ago I went to an event not knowing it was a drag event. I ran into a couple friends and I stayed for it and it was a lovely time despite not being my scene. I was welcomed all the same.

I last dated a trans nonbinary person and at no point did I notice anything particularly unusual. In the relationship I mean, obviously I would only date a fellow weirdo, but what that constitutes is probably a whole other set of posts.

My circles at goth night consist mostly of various nonbinary and trans folks. I feel most comfortable around new people when I know they have explored the gender spectrum at least a little. I have never been made to feel like I wasn't gay enough or trans enough or whatever enough in these spaces.

Honestly it is striking me now that "queerness" must involve some form of gender speculation in ones self. Whether they are ultimately cis or otherwise, people who have taken the time to consider it thoughtfully and come to terms with whatever it is they are do palpably come off differently to me than people who have not done so.

I guess that is why queer is an umbrella. When I was a kid, I definitely didn't feel at home in most spaces. The group of friends I made in high school, well we all turned out to be queer. Well most of us, I think Daniel is just a sociopath. But most of us turned out to be on the trans spectrum and we are all neurodivergents of some stripe.

I guess when it comes down to it, a normie is by and large anyone who isn't in the in-group in my various alt circles. That sounds cold, so I want to add the caveat that just about anyone can join the in-group, even the bros who don't have anything in their wardrobes that isn't a t-shirt and blue jeans. All you have to do is say hi and not be an asshole. And considering how many assholes there are in the various scenes, even that's probably optional.

I suppose it's a shorthand for those who are not familiar to us. Even people I don't know have a certain familiarity to them when they are in a community with me. There's an old Hammerfall song, Where the Dragon Lies Bleeding. It's kick ass, give it a listen sometime. At the beginning of the song, before the battle, the singer declares that there is a stranger among his number, but near the end after the battle, after blood has been shed, there is no stranger among them, they are now brothers in battle. Yeah it's pretty Viking.

But that's the crux of it, isn't it? To be queer in America today is to invite some fear, some conflict, to know that sooner or later you'll have a battle on your hands, whether on the street at the hands of some jackass or over the dinner table with some ignorant loudmouth or even just at the polls. To be a normie is to be a stranger, to be queer is to know your blood is on the line.

Is that cynical? That my people are those who would be targeted by those who would target me? That my friends are then defined by our enemies? After all, even someone who is gay and not queer has to face these realities, however insulated they might sometimes be.

I would hope that we're bound by more than just the hatred of others. But my anxious ass is always focused on conflict and that conflict defines so much in my world. What would I like it to be then? What do I instead hope for when I say queer community?

I suppose I hope for dance nights. And drag shows. For weird art and intense music. I hope for movie nights where we make fun of how aggressively hetero some movies are and how bizarrely open some directors are with their kinks. I hope for potlucks with fatty food, and for cute people who want to talk to me until three in the morning.

When I put it like that, it becomes obvious. Being queer is a celebration, and those outside of it haven't joined in yet. I can go on about how the misery of American society and its use of the Protestant work ethic to pollute us and keep us dull and beige, and I think that's at the heart of what keeps us separated. So I think ultimately a big part of being queer is the rejection of what we've been told is our place and our fate and then the embrace of something new and different and weird.

But I do think we should be wary, to avoid rejecting round pegs in round holes in favor of square pegs in square holes. I've done a fair bit of gatekeeping in this post, and I think I should be cognizant of that and where it comes from. After all, if I am to reject the premise that our enemies define us, then I must embrace the fact that my community is not all my friends. It belongs even to people I don't like, people who aren't "my people" even if we share in bloodshed and celebration.

There is no easy line in the sand of normies and queers. There is a danger in simply stating "I know it when I see it" but I'm not writing legislation so maybe I can let it ride. After all, while I am better at keeping undesirable elements out of my life than I used to be, relying on anything other than a case by case judgment just isn't me. There is no blanket rule for good people vs bad people. This is not an invitation to think of all the various forms of terrible people that exist and throw them my way, beeteedubs.

So who knows how productive this was. I always come away from these queer meditations not knowing if I've said anything of consequence at all, but I think that's better than doing what I usually do and just deleting the whole thing, which I've done too many times to count. There's probably some merit to writing out my half finished thoughts like this. Perhaps this is the way they eventually become finished thoughts.