queer role model

Personally I’m a fan of celebs realizing that there aren’t enough positive queer role models and coming out to make that difference. That being said, you can’t force anyone to be comfortable sharing their sexuality and if they’re not comfortable enough to share it it’s not your decision to ignore that and decide for them. That’s it.

Over here just trying to make the best of this masculine body of mine.

It is interesting to live here in the south during a time where much of the world, especially the younger generations, are transitioning away from the idea that gender is a binary. Slowly, I believe the society here in my home town will recognize individuality as something that can be expressed beyond our biological obstacles. Take myself for example…

Xoxo
-Elliott Alexzander

Dear straight allies,

Do you want to genuinely be helpful to the lgbtq community? Well, sometimes you’re going to have to do things that you don’t want to do. That seem counterproductive. But if you really are an ally, you’ll do them.

So stay out of lgbtq safe spaces.

You may be feeling hurt, confused, even offended. You may be thinking “But if it’s meant to be inclusive, then it should include me too”. Groups like that have to include those kinds of things; it’s the only real way many of them can avoid public outcry. But that doesn’t mean it’s meant to be a zoo for cishet people.

I’ve seen too many lgbtq groups- especially ones meant for queer youth- poisoned by well-meaning straight people. It may be difficult to understand, but the reason queer people go to safe spaces isn’t for acceptance from straight people. It’s for the safety of being around other queer people. 

A great example of this is my former middle school’s QSA. The staff administrator was a cishet drama teacher. Everyone else was queer, but nobody felt comfortable talking about queer subjects with her in the room. At one point, she even said she identified with the rainbow flag because she felt she was “weird” and “different from everyone else”. Inserting yourself into the lgbtq community like that does much more harm than good. 

Queer youth, especially, need strong queer role models, not what they’ve had their whole lives: well meaning but in the end not nearly sufficient straight people. As a straight ally, the best thing you can do is stay out of queer spaces.

Image from:
“EPICOENE FRIENDSHIP”: UNDERSTANDING MALE FRIENDSHIP IN THE EARLY EIGHTEENTH CENTURY, WITH SOME SPECULATIONS ABOUT POPE
Raymond Stephanson, The Eighteenth Century,  Vol. 38, No. 2 (SUMMER 1997), pp.151-170

Stephanson’s ‘Epicoene Friendship’ paradigm provides some context for romantic male friendships in the eighteenth century, and at face-value it fits the Hamilton/Laurens relationship startlingly well, but it should be noted that these conventions were out-dated by the 1770s by the shifting standards of masculinity, so the fact that Hamilton and Laurens were still adhering to a similar model either means they were overly-affectionate dorks trying to act like the old-school millennial bros that came before them, or they were just really gay and pretty bad at hiding it.

anonymous asked:

I am queer myself but it bugs me when people say Sufjan is gay. It feels like it reduces his music to just being about sexuality. Or when people try to find gay meanings in his songs that clearly arent even about that. For example, your John Wayne Gacy Jr post. That song is about human nature and evilness. It is a stretch and a little bit disgusting to say it is about Sufjan being gay, because there are better queer role models out there than murderers.

are you suggesting that i took jwgjr as being about….. sufjan stevens…….. finding a “queer role model”….. in john wayne gacy jr……………

i am so proud of todrick hall omg, i dunno but seeing young white girls running up to take a selfie with a successful black man is just….beyond cool. ESPECIALLY seeing young black kids excitedly taking pictures with him, THATS amazing and i love when black kids have black, queer role models :-)

I am so angry

I got attacked by a mob once.

I was a kid; sixth or seventh grade, and we were having gym class outside. It was cold, so I wore a coat. Nobody else wore a coat.

The teacher walked away for a minute, and that’s when it happened.

There wasn’t any signal, nobody said anything, but they surrounded me, and somebody forced the hood of my coat up over my head and somebody yanked the drawstrings of it tight so that it covered my face and I couldn’t see, and then they all pushed me around, laughing.

I dissociated. I felt like I was floating, all the fear I was feeling somehow distant.

And then the teacher walked back and they stopped. He must have seen, but he didn’t say anything. None of them got in trouble. I never told anyone about it because I thought it had been my fault for letting it happen. I should have fought back, I thought. I should have been strong enough to stop it. It was my fault.

For years afterwards, I never wore a coat.

I’m grown up now, stuck in the same small town where all of those people still live, and you know what they have? Guns. I’ve seen pictures of the permits, up on Facebook. Concealed carry.

I feel guilty, though, for being frightened. Illinois was a pretty solidly Democrat state—although I think a lot of the democrat votes come from Chicago, and I live in a very rural area.

But it’s not as if I’m visibly queer. I have long hair; I look like a cisgender girl. I’m not dating anyone; I’m only out as bisexual and genderqueer to a few people. I’m white. Logically, I’m relatively safe—as safe as anyone who looks like a woman can ever be.

And it’s not as if I see those people anymore, the ones from the mob. I stay in the house, mostly, and don’t see anyone, really, except my family: grandparents, cousins, aunt.

They voted for Trump.

My cousin has a baby shower coming up this Sunday—how am I supposed to go to it? How am I supposed to look these people in the eyes, these people who say they love me but think people like me are less than human?

I bite my tongue, second guess everything I say.

What a gorgeous woman, I say, when an actress comes onto the television screen, and then I wince.

I flinch when people use the wrong pronouns for me.

My mother says she has so much trouble remembering because she has to call me she in front of our family.

Just tell them, she says. What’s the worst that can happen?

My grandfather used to take me for boat rides when I was a kid.

He has a Trump sticker on the bumper of his truck.

They love you, my mother says.

My cousin taught me to ride a bicycle, to tie my shoes.

Voting Trump, she said on Facebook. Who’s with me.

He tells the truth, my thirteen-year-old cousin said.

What truth is that? The truth that people like me should be given electroshock? Or the truth that little girls like you are old enough for grown men to fuck them?

I am so angry.

Our family has lunch together every Sunday. At one of the lunches a couple of months ago, they had a discussion about how ‘homosexuals’ had ‘ruined’ the words gay and queer.

And there I am, in the corner, shaking.

I don’t go to those family lunches very often anymore.

They love you, my mother says, it’s not as if they’re going to disown you.

But I don’t want to be their fucking exception; I don’t want them to have to ‘overlook’ my queerness or ‘forgive’ me for it. Love the sinner, hate the sin—what sin, the sin of my existence?

I am so angry.

You act paranoid, my mother says, you act like you’re afraid for your life.

And maybe she’s right. Maybe I am paranoid. Logically, I know, I’m relatively safe, but I can’t help but feel that the teacher has walked away for the next four years.

I know the rules now, though: don’t wear a coat, if nobody else is wearing one. Smile when they call you she. Don’t glance at pretty girls. Bite your tongue. Present as your assigned gender.

The thing is, I don’t want to have to do that anymore. I want to be visible; I want to feel like I exist. Do you know, I didn’t even realize it was possible to be queer until I was twelve fucking years old? I learned it from a fantasy novel. I thought it was a misprint, at first, the main character and the love interest having the same pronouns. I had no queer role models growing up, because everyone I knew who was queer was closeted.

I am so angry.

I am tired of hiding; I am tired of feeling afraid.

I am so angry. 

I am so very angry.

anonymous asked:

I HAVE THE QUESTIONS TO ASK TO DISTRACT FROM THE SAD THINGSSS you can message me at I'm-star-struck at anytime honestly! Anyway questions... -if you were in the beauty and the beast world what piece of furniture would you be turned into?? -did you have any queer role models that helped you with your sexuality journey? (Miles chronicles is someone that helped me soo fucking much) -any bands or singers to recommend?? -secret talents? -describe your aesthetic? Hope you feel better!! ❤️❤️

-i would be a side table because they’re short and sort of just sitting there
-I LOVE MILES CHRONICLES SO MUCH omg my ex introduced me to them and they’re so hilarious and as to who helped me it was hannah hart i’ve watched her videos since like 2013 and I watched her coming out videos about 200 times when I was a baby gay™ (but “just trying to be a good lgbt ally”)
-dodie clark (I like “she” and “sick of losing soulmates” the most) and Message to Bears, Syd Matters, and Jose Gonzales (all three of those are artists who have songs on the life is strange soundtrack which is the only songs of theirs I’ve listened to lmao)
-my secret talents are overreacting to everything and being dramatic at all times
-my aesthetic changes every like 2 months but currently the aesthetic I like is like clean home-y? like fluffy white comforters and plants in yellow pots and light-colored wood furniture and quilts and lots of pictures
(ps thank you i appreciate this)

seriously though Tomoyo was my first exposure to even the concept of being queer. I named my first Neopet after her when I was 10 years old. In high school I was doodling transfer student OCs for her to date. she was my queer childhood role model and I don’t care what else happens in this arc I won’t have her living the tragic “I Want My Beloved To Be Happy” trope for the rest of her fictional life GIVE TOMOYO A GIRLFRIEND

#GiveElsaAGirlfriend because maybe I would not have been filled with shame and self-hate for the first 15 years of my life, if I had a positive queer role model in mainstream media growing up. When children are taught they are not normal for being themselves you’re giving them a ticket to loneliness, heartache, and self hatred. Kids need to feel loved and accepted. Period. Don’t project your personal hate on others.

Imagine Sam Jones, nineties teen.

No, seriously, Sam Jones, openly queer, unfeminine, outspoken environmentalist, sjw – in highschool in the nineties. Sam Jones picking fights with school bullies, being the girl no one would share a locker room with, being isolated, starved for queer role models, living in the aftermath of Thatcherite Britain. Sam Jones the teenaged survivor, exhausted at how damn hard it was to be out in the nineties, to be feminist, to be the annoying chick who never shut up about the ozone layer.

Now imagine Sam Jones meets a strange alien, queer, beautiful, more passionately invested in justice and equality than she even knows how to be, saver of worlds, discoverer of new and strange and wonderful places and people. And that strange and beautiful alien says “come away with me. come and see the universe, we’ll save people and right wrongs together, you can see a future where you don’t have to hide, or fight, just to exist.”

How on Earth could she not fall in love?