A Nightmare Situation

An anonymous response by my editor to my "Liberal Nihilism" piece.

Some of you have heard me refer to my editor, a person who started kindly emailing me copyediting corrections and ended up giving me invaluable editing advice. I couldn’t do this without him.

When I first sent him the piece I published yesterday, in draft form, he had a lot to say about it. His critiques and objections were so thoughtful that I asked if we could publish them, too, as opposed to me doing what I usually do, and just working his ideas into my piece. He said yes.

So here’s what he had to say. I’d love to hear from some LGB and T folks with your thoughts on our takes.

—LD

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Photo by Nick Fewings on Unsplash

I have been turning this piece over in my head all day, since it touches on so many matters that I think about all the time.

In the end, I don't think you're overstating the good/progress, but you also make so many good points about the problems that are still out there (violence toward people who break gender norms, advocacy organizations wanting to scare the shit out of us, the culture war surrounding LGBT people) that a "look on the bright side" argument RE: the progress we've made doesn't necessarily work for me. You've presented too much compelling evidence for the dark side!

This isn't to say that advocates’ habit of overshadowing our progress with their relentless negativity is not worth pointing out. I just think there are a number of other points worth making that connect with this issue, too.

For one, although these advocacy groups are (literally) selling a version of what it's like to be LGBT that is the polar opposite of "It Gets Better," I have to be honest: everything I read about the LGBT community from my alternative media sources is similarly negative! It’s just negative about different things! I read about the intolerance within our own community, I read about the way supposedly LGBT-friendly policies are fueling mistrust of "us," I read about families being harmed by trans ideology in schools, I read about trans people being marginalized by their own communities because they don't support the dominant narrative. The list goes on. So, like the advocacy groups you addressed in your piece, I see the LGBT community at a crisis point—I just see a different crisis. And if someone tried to tell me "it gets better,” I'd be like: “Oh yeah? When?! WE'RE ALL DOOMED!!!”

I think the question may be bigger than whether advocacy organizations need to change their tone to acknowledge the progress we've made. The question may be: how do we make space to acknowledge that progress in a world where gratitude and hope are obsolete? Because there are reasons for gratitude and hope, and there is so much opportunity out there for us, but there is also an endless fire raging in every corner of the LGBT conversation--and if you say anything remotely positive, you're seen as being out of step.

How do we acknowledge the good news about being LGBT in America, and allow ourselves to be buoyed by how far we've come, in an environment where positivity itself has been banned from the discourse? And how, especially, do we give young people a way to tap into that same positive outlook? How do we make sure that a gender-nonconforming kid, or a gay kid, or a kid who identifies as trans, is not on alert all the time because of all this negative messaging? That they are poised to take advantage of the unique opportunities they have? To know that they are, quite simply, able to live lives that were not possible before?

* * *

That’s one question worth exploring, but I’d be remiss if I didn’t make room for another one that’s knocking on its door: should we be encouraging young people to identify under the LGBT umbrella to begin with?

The fact is, although It Gets Better may even be the hypothetical "positive" advocacy organization for kids that we’re wishing for, the content on its site gives me a sinking feeling, since it trades on this fuzzy concept of “queer youth.”

Yes, there are people who grow up knowing they are same-sex attracted the whole time, and even people who grow up with a lifelong yearning to change their sex—but not every gay or trans person is going to be one of these "gold star" folks, who knew it all along and never stopped knowing it, and that’s the problem with asking folks to identify into this category so young.

If you’d asked me at 16 what my sexuality was, I’d have told you I was straight, and I’d have been wrong—and I’d have kept on being wrong, right up until I fell out of my “glass closet” in college. As for the gay women I knew in college, their numbers have dwindled post-graduation—since several of them have married men.

The aspects of our selves that are celebrated by the LGBT advocates can take a long time to emerge. Expecting people to have a handle on them in their teens is absurd—and, as the growing ranks of detransitioners can tell you, potentially harmful.

Now, perhaps a hypothetical advocacy organization for gender nonconforming kids wouldn't bother me the same way these “queer youth” ones do, since that's not an identity? Gender nonconformity is something you can be ostracized for, something that may make it difficult for you to navigate social situations, even your own family, and it's a difference we can all acknowledge—it's not quite as subjective as the category of queer. But an organization for gender nonconformity in and of itself would not be as exciting to join, especially for a teen. It'd be like joining a "throwing around various balls" club instead of a football team. The identity is likely part of the attraction here.

* * *

Which brings me to my final spiel, this one RE: the activism component of LGBT identity.

I said before that LGBT people in the United States are living lives that were not possible before—and since 1993, I have been consciously living one of those lives myself.

Upon coming (read: falling) out of the closet, I recognized immediately that I was in a unique era, part of a cohort of gay people who were just going to be allowed to live, and love whoever they loved, without interference, for the first time. There seemed to be no better way to honor all the struggle that had led to that moment than by just living my damn life.

But for other LGBT people, that struggle is part of their identity—and they believe that, in order to honor the people who came before them, they must continue to participate in that struggle. I am not remotely against this idea. (My right to marry was certainly not achieved by politically listless folks like me!)

The trouble is, when social media sets the agenda for your struggle, you’ve got a bit of a nightmare situation on your hands. The conversation around matters LGBT does not move in the direction of workaday problems—like people who live in cultures where their same-sex attraction, trans identity, or gender nonconformity comprises a real obstacle to their livelihood.

Instead, it’s steered toward eye-catching, edgy culture war topics: trans women in sports, drag queen story hour, queer theory-infused curriculum. These ideas and topics get online activists and allies positive attention from their cadre when they perform support for the approved position, but this activism does little to garner support for the LGBT folks who are still facing the decidedly unsexy problem of real prejudice. In fact, the focus on these culture war topics is likely to add to the prejudice and mistrust that already plagues LGBT folks who live in conservative and/or religious cultures.

It's a shitshow, Lisa!

* * *

Returning to the topic of positivity, I have to remind myself: I have a husband, we're out to our families, and we have been given this gift of society's shrug. That has to count for something, even as the fire rages outside our door.

How do we make space for that gratitude, that acknowledgment of progress and positivity, in the midst of the crisis...whatever we think that crisis is?

Gratitude may not drive engagement, but it certainly drives me. I know I am living a life that was impossible before. I think that's a message worth spreading, whether it's spoken sotto voce at the back of the rally, or on the mic up front.