As a queer person, something I’ve heard over and over in my life is a version of “I don’t understand why anyone is weird about being gay. You’re just the same as anyone else!”
Sometimes this sounds like “love is love” and “love makes a family” and “your family is no different than ours.”
While these are (almost) always well intended, and are words I would rarely feel upset to hear, I can’t help but think it’s just not quite true.
On a human level? Sure, LGBTQIA+ people have relationships, we couple up (or don’t), we have jobs, we parent, we get divorced. We do all the same ordinary things as the next person.
But the idea that we are “just the same,” said in an effort to normalize our existence, just misses the mark. Yes, we should be just the same. Love and life and family should be celebrated in all their many forms. But it’s just as important that you can see our differences, too.
A Life Filled With Worry for LGBTQIA+ People
The reality is that our lives are just not the same as cisgender, heterosexual people. We have to fight every single day to validate our existence. We have to hear politicians loudly argue day in and day out over our basic human rights. To see ourselves thrown around as political tools, knowing fully that there will be real implications for our lives and our children’s lives.
When we date, we have to worry about the simplest things like being seen together in a restaurant, or holding hands in public. We live in a near constant state of vigilance that someone nearby might see us and have a problem with us. They might cast a dirty look, make a snide comment, or worse. And we have to be ready to deal with any of those possibilities at just about any given time.
We are asked if we are sisters, brothers, best friends. We are misgendered, mislabeled, and mistaken. When we travel, we have to consider our safety in ways others don’t. We worry when we book an Airbnb if the host will be homophobic, transphobic, hateful, or dangerous.
Almost every visit to a doctor is nerve wracking to some degree, leaving us wondering if a provider will treat us differently. If they will ask an irrelevant, invasive question about our sexuality or gender identity. Wondering if they will be affirming, or if they’ll make weird, othering comments. If they will give us care that endangers us or is less thorough than our cisgender, heterosexual counterparts.
When we have kids, our worlds become filled with new worries. We worry that we will be treated differently when we are birthing. That we will be denied adoption. We scramble to adopt our own children because we are still not granted immediate legal protections when they are born, and have heard horror stories of LGBTQIA+ families being ripped apart.
Someday, I hope that our lives are exactly the same as anyone else’s. I hope that there is a day when I don’t have to come out as queer. A day when I don’t have to cross out the “father” line on a school form and write “mother” in instead. A day when I don’t have to worry about my kid getting bullied by peers or adults for having two moms.
But right now, the reality is that we are not the same. Love is love, sure. But for us, it comes with an added layer of subversion and nonconformity woven into even the most mundane things.
All of this is so ingrained in our existence that it feels second nature. We are resilient and armored against the daily microaggressions and blatant aggressions we experience, and sometimes we even forget that we live in this state of perpetual vigilance. But it is always there.
This Pride month, I challenge you to thoughtfully consider the ways LGBTQIA+ people’s lives are different from yours, and how you can be part of changing some of the negative differences. Do some research, ask an LGBTQIA+ person if they would be willing to share some of their experiences with you. Take some action accordingly. The most seemingly minor advocacy or allyship can make an enormous impact for us and our families. It paves the way for our children to grow up in a world where these challenges are increasingly less significant. I can’t imagine any better way to celebrate Pride month.