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Apr
17th
2018

alienation, or what's the reverse of a pride parade and other questions · 5:31am Apr 17th, 2018

I have never felt safe or comfortable or welcome in an explicitly queer space.


I’m not sure how to begin this. It’s too knotted up in so many other things. It’s overshadowed by personal trauma and the attitudes that trauma entrenched within me. It’s personal. It’s thorny.


More and more I come to the conclusion that I am not cut out for analysis and discourse. Not yet. Maybe not ever! But at least not right now. Everything just circles around to wounds. Maybe as I carefully, with the help of those who love me, cut the barbed wire and dig up the mines left around… But that’s later.


So why am I writing this?


I’m belaboring this. This being… I don’t know.I can’t talk about things the way Chuck or Scarlet can, I don’t have the artistic flair or the lightning tongues of the YouTubers I like, I don’t have the depth of knowledge that academics do. I just have a google doc, a platform in the corner, and unfortunate shit that happened to me. All I can do is tell you about it. I can’t be mad. Well. I can be mad, but I can’t always afford to be mad. I have to be careful. I’ve bottled up so much that I sometimes walk around afraid that any moment I’ll trip and it’ll all come spilling out when I didn’t mean for that. I can’t argue, because I’m too easily outflanked and I’ll just get angry. I can’t plead, because I’m weak as is. But I can just sort of describe.


Growing up torn between antagonistic identities is hellish. You learn to never be yourself, and eventually the very thought of you being you is foreign. Growing up, the idea of any sort of space or community that was openly queer wasn’t just foreign. It was practically laughable. As if. That’ll happen. I heard about them when I was young and worried and confused. I found them as I grew. And today I’m near the door awkwardly looking around, waiting to see if I should go home and cuddle my cat.


I want to say: there wasn’t a place for someone like me. It’s true, and I don’t think that will ever change if I’m honest, but maybe it wasn’t ever… Perhaps there isn’t. Maybe it was arrogant and presumptuous to assume that a shared marginalization would breed community and that I could just enter into that.


The communities and spaces I tiptoed into were vibrant. People were just… open about themselves. They were themselves in ways that I struggled to comprehend. They had people they trusted and told things to, and this also was foreign to me. I thought it was wonderful. Places like that save people.


I say this to say that I can appreciate that reality for others and still have nothing but remembered pain and a lot of internal cringing when I even think of them. Not because I find such a thing loathesome, but because when everything inevitably burns you, you start assuming that once a thing has burnt you extensively before that it will probably never not burn you.


My experience was mostly the realization that these people hated me. Not me specifically, but people like me. It was eeriely familiar. The way they talked about people with the same faith I did, the jokes they made and the things they profaned, they bothered me. I found myself swiftly erasing parts of me again. The pattern of hiding continued.


Talking about myself and where I’m from and opening my head up like I have done for years here? This is new shit, y’all. This was a modern development, and it happened in bits and pieces.


The thing that stung the most was the hostility in these spaces to faith. It’s understandable. It’s understandability actually made it hurt even more. I did not want to squelch the righteous anger of the injured. I just didn’t want them to injure me in the process. I shared their discontents. Unlike them I had to live inside of the Evangelical monster. I had expected to find comrades on the outside but had instead discovered that they cared little about those trapped inside.


On one hand, I couldn’t just stop being queer. I would have loved to along the way. I tried. I just am. On the other hand, I couldn’t surrender my faith without good reason, and they gave none. The gateway to being in one camp was to tear off half of yourself. There was no space for someone who straddled two things.


I think I give them both too much credit and too little. I assume they had ever thought about how the way people in queer spaces framed discourse regarding faith that friendly fire was going to happen. I assume the possibility had occurred to them. I assume that the people who made me uncomfortable and alienated when they talked about faith had thought it through. I assume that they know, and they actively choose to injure despite knowing.


I want community. I think every person wants community. But I don’t know where there would even be one that I could finally fit into. I’ve stuck out awkwardly in every single one. I’m too bisexual for the baptists and too christian for the gays--too active for the shut-ins and too sedentary for the active--too literary for the philosophers and too emotional for the literate. I cared too much about theology for the unitarians and, again, was too gay for everyone else


. What would it even be like to feel like you fit? What would it even feel like to be in a room full of people and think--these people are all like me, and I don’t have to hide anything about myself here?


There’s a worry I have that when I try to explain a thought or feeling that it inevitably sounds like a cry for help or some kind of pity party or something. I don’t know how else to talk about the feeling of alienation. I’ve barely talked about why. I’m not even sure where to begin. I don’t think I connect with anyone enough at enough points to explain why the ironic endorsement of satan as a joke in queer humor makes me uncomfortable with its constant frequency without sounding like a bitch who needs to grow a spine. Mentioning something bothers you is weakness. It’s an invitation to be crucified.


Alienation, as a sidebar, tends to make any crowd look like its bored and ready for an old fashioned crucifixion.


I didn’t know how to explain that this was friendly fire. I tried. But I knew I would never get people to really hear me. I know what its like to be trod on. Any ground you give is weakness. Wolves and sheep, and someone has to get punched. I just sort of held my peace and faded away in quiet disappointment. Again and again. I would try to change myself, but I couldn’t figure out how to live in an alien form, not again. I had done it the first time for survival. Survival motivates a lot more than loneliness.


These environments were billed as the welcome place for those who had no other place. But they never were for me. I don’t know how to say that without handing the crowd the nails to label me something by attaching the sign to me. I don’t know how.


I can only tell you that I wished for a place and couldn’t find one.


Maybe I will. But I doubt that I’ll ever be really comfortable in queer spaces, and that’s a lingering sadness. I would have liked to have a place, but not every place can be your place.


And if no place is your place, then I guess wherever you are, its Yours by some metric.

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Comments ( 18 )

Dude, you have a place. It's the place you make, whether in real life or on the internet. It sucks you get burned on both sides but I'm sure there's lots of other people in the same spot. Maybe that's a place yet to be made or something.

My experience was mostly the realization that these people hated me. Not me specifically, but people like me. It was eeriely familiar. The way they talked about people with the same faith I did, the jokes they made and the things they profaned, they bothered me. I found myself swiftly erasing parts of me again.

God I know this feeling so well. No matter what space I was in, something I was would be hated on there. Overhearing people verbally tearing my identity to shreds happened absolutely everywhere. There were no places that were safe, ever.

Except eventually there was one. My own little space, with my own friends. Not a support group for X or a gathering place for Y, but my space for people I trusted. I think for many of us that's the only option we have.

I could wish for better places. I could wish for unerstanding across divides (and not just faith/queerness.) I could wish a community bigger than I can count on my fingers. But it is what it is, sadly.

I don’t know.I can’t talk about things the way Chuck or Scarlet can, I don’t have the artistic flair or the lightning tongues of the YouTubers I like, I don’t have the depth of knowledge that academics do.

I can absolutely relate. I was crying to my husband yesterday regarding something related to this sentiment, and he said to me, "You're using the wrong measuring stick." It's easy to compare ourselves to others and find ourselves lacking. Our journeys are inherently unique, and that uniqueness doesn't make us lesser for it. And you know what? It really is a matter of perspective, because from where I'm standing you are a well-spoken and thoughtful being, and I look up to you. And don't you dare shy from that statement because you don't have to change or try to live up to it--you are already worthy of it. Not just for me, but for other people who know your work. Your mind.

My experience was mostly the realization that these people hated me. Not me specifically, but people like me. It was eeriely familiar. The way they talked about people with the same faith I did, the jokes they made and the things they profaned, they bothered me. I found myself swiftly erasing parts of me again. The pattern of hiding continued.

Sigh... Okay I've typed two separate paragraphs before this one, each trying to convey that I hear and understand what you're feeling. I guess I'm just trying to be sensitive to the fact that while our sentiments may be similar, we're coming at the issue from two different directions. That irreverence in the queer community can be a delight, freeing even, but sometimes it can just be so ugly. I've always had mixed feelings about that. I was raised with an Eastern religion that counseled tolerance. This rejection of Christians (and not just them, but other faiths as well) is just another form of intolerance... which you'd think the queer community would be better at avoiding!

What would it even be like to feel like you fit? What would it even feel like to be in a room full of people and think--these people are all like me, and I don’t have to hide anything about myself here?

I've asked this all my life. I think the way we communicate and digest information today has really lent itself to the disappointment of many. We come to expect things and take things for granted. Something is made out to be an open paradise in heaven when it's really more like a timeshare in Florida with a shitty view.

My life took odd turns, so I'd hate to presume to know everything about your journey. I fell prey to my Jungian shadow and had (when summarized) a fairly banal life. I did this all knowing I was bisexual and that I was never going to fit into gender customs. But I figured-- hey! I had a kid! And I did it while married. Go me? Now where are all my trendy mom friends at!?

...Yeah no, those didn't come. I don't know if I'll ever be friends with another mom.

Ah! But wait. Now I'm living a breeder life with a white picket fence. Gosh where did all my queer friends go? My gamer friends? My "we don't fit in anywhere so let's drink and watch a movie" friends?

This sense of belonging is tied to values and identity... and it was like nothing was lining up with anyone anymore. I just became this queer mom in a straight relationship with a kid who liked stuff no other parents in my playgroups seemed to like! I just sort of learned to compartmentalize. From what I hear that's what plenty of people do.

Not that I'm happy with it. Not that I'd expect you to be happy with it.

But I've heard the real trick of it is to accept who you are first and to love yourself. You can keep looking for your 'tribe', but in the meantime you do what you must and you just find a way to sit in your own skin without needing someone coming along and stamping their wholesale approval on your ass.

I say this having struggled with this myself, but some days I really do believe it sometimes.

For what it's worth, I hope that exploring your feelings of alienation and frustration in writing, through this blog, helps at least a little.

Those who shout tolerance are usually the most intolerant. At least as far as ive seen. Eventually you pick and choose parts that are the easiest to hide and work with that and best way anyone can hope finding that sweet spot of being yourself is never community. Communities will never be like that. Theyre not mean to let you be you, at best they let you find a single person that will.
But some of us end up remaining solitary animals.

I've never been comfortable in queer spaces or around aggressively queer people. I do remember one pride meeting that an ex dragged me to where some hipster kid cried about how hard it was to be a trendy kid from money with a beach house on Cape Cod so I told them not a one of them ever struggled, that I dealt with questionable sexuality while in juvenile detention.

Gay men in particular make me incredibly uncomfortable. I've been victimized repeatedly in my life, and the only people I've ever met who can't accept that I'm not interested have been gay men.

I've never been comfortable in queer spaces or around queer people because like, that's the extent of their characterization.

4841881
You're the only person in this world that can be you.

I am not really surprised by your feelings for the queer community. Back in college, I hanged out with (amongst other) a few gay and bi people. We had a few discussion about the queer community and they too often felt that other queer could be just as intolerant and nasty as the rest of the world.
Back then I thought it to be kinda sad. I still do.

There’s a worry I have that when I try to explain a thought or feeling that it inevitably sounds like a cry for help or some kind of pity party or something. I don’t know how else to talk about the feeling of alienation.

It's not the first time I see alienation being described that way, and every time it feel relatable; backing yourself in an emotional corner and daring moving out of it. The path that lead to that corner is not always the same, but the end result is similar.

People are not simple beings, and one single thing is not the only one that defines us.

So i imagine many people, including in this "spaces" themselves feel that part of them is not welcome in such one space.

Such is usually the way with collectivism.

I don't think I can relate to the issues with faith, as my own is something that is part of my cultural identity, and in the queer spaces I'm in I don't take offense as much unless they specifically refer to "predatory churches in backwater towns". Although at that point there's plenty of other things wrong with that sentiment than just anti-religion.

However, alienation in itself is something I can relate to. I'm tied more so to my father, who is by all accounts a tiny village guy in the middle of nowhere, Paraguay, and so city life for me never meshed as well as when I was at the ranches and towns. People can automatically tell my family is from a backwater village when driving in traffic or being strictly cautious about walking down the street.

That's nothing though compared to my life in America. Paying for catholic school meant being in the company of a lot of white families who have so much ingrained in their minds that an errant step by me could just be the end of the world to them. Never mind the teachers and PTO that were overtly racist to my family and me, but these kids were sheltered even when they tried to show off they weren't by brandishing knives at the cafeteria (two people cut themselves while trying to show tricks, it was rather pathetic when compared to the sicarios I've met).

The biggest community shock however is how some Latinos really can't find a community among Hispanic groups. If Americans have a tough time with someone from a different state, imagine if each state was it's own country with their own values and culture, and that's what Hispanics have to go through in the US. I don't mesh well with Argentinians and Peruvians just as how Salvadorans don't mesh with Mexicans and Guatemalans.

4842006

Well, they're different countries, with different ethnic mixtures and histories and dialects. They only seem like all the same place from the viewpoint of the United States of America, and mostly because we're only really very familiar with Mexico, Cuba, and Puerto Rico.

Believe it or not, I can relate as well, though for different reasons. I was a lighthouse keeper's son, and lighthouses are breeding grounds for singular oddballs.

It's all too familiar. You want to be yourself, but everyone wants you to be like them. When you're less than perfect, they blame you. They require the impossible, and judge you when you either can't deliver, or are disinclined to.

There comes a point where you reach your limit and simply stop caring. It so happens I reached that point this week.

In any case, take heart: You've got readers to talk to, many of whom can relate in some way. And I'm sure Scarlet and Chuck will be understanding as well. (I mean, it's pretty much in their contract. That's how this romance stuff works, right?)

I certainly know the feeling. I am an atheist libertarian who is hawkish on defense and foreign policy issues. In terms of personal style, however, I fit in far better with leftist hippie and techie types then I do with most conservatives. Except that I do tend to get along pretty well with Christian conservatives, even though we disagree on a lot of things.

Consequently, I fit in well nowhere.

As someone who's grown up in a strongly religious family, surrounded by the strongly religious, and was turned off of it not just by the intolerance, but by that combined with claiming that they preach love and respect... I'm constantly surprised to see people of strong christian faith in areas of the internet that, by my experience, should be the opposite of what those types of people believe.

That's not to attack or belittle you or anyone, it's really just context for where I'm at on that score; I outright don't understand. I've had some talks about it recently with some very close friends of mine, and it's more clear to me now than it's ever been that the evil little corner of christianity I grew up with is, if not a minority, then at least certainly not the rule... It's hard to wrap my brain around.

By that logic, I should be all about queer groups. Hell, all the signs point to the fact that I should be part of them. I've spent my whole life wishing I could be a woman. But... there's always that but.

'Transgenderism' in the way it's come to be known... that's not for me. I know plenty of people who have taken it and embraced it, and no disrespect to them, I love em to bits, but for me, it'd just feel like a lie...

So for that reason, that reasoning, which I've been terrified for years to actually say out loud to anyone trans... on top of the reasons you mentioned being uncomfortable in those groups... Yeah, I totally feel that.

TL;DR You're not alone in feeling alone...

4842243

'Transgenderism' in the way it's come to be known... that's not for me. I know plenty of people who have taken it and embraced it, and no disrespect to them, I love em to bits, butfor me, it'd just feel like a lie...

Awkwardly pointing out that you're commenting on a blog written by a trans woman after an emotional dialogue with her girlfriend who is also a trans woman, and that basically nobody calls it "transgenderism".

I don't think there's anything wrong with asking people to not be hateful, even when they think their hate is justified. Hate circling into hate is how you multiply contempt, not cure it. And frankly, the "queer" communities have a particularly bad track record for this- it's really common for bisexual people to be viewed as less, and I've heard that passing trans people have been pushed out by reflexive hate when they showed up with partners of the opposite sex. Apparently the only "proper" straight trans people don't pass. That's a fucked up message on its face.

I would say that, when a community bills itself as being the exclusive domain of some subset of the population based on conditions beyond your ability to change, be it race, gender identity, or sexuality, it's a very fast path from there to bigotry- be it new or old. You can't create an open, friendly space by excluding, no matter the reason for the exclusion.

So what you need to do is realize- community isn't a group of strangers you can be yourself around. It's a family- whether of blood or not- that you not only can be yourself around, but who will call you out when you start trying to act differently. You'll know you've found your home when you have even one person who will tell you to stop pretending to be someone you're not, and say it with love.

Not everyone can get dozens of people. But one person can be enough. And everything starts somewhere.

4842088

How exactly is it possible for a libertarian to be hawkish? Do you just mean you advocate for a strong military, or... ?

4842243

I have some probably incredibly awkward news. Namely, that I am trans. So this probably didn’t land anywhere near where you wanted it to.

I was just having a discussion about the very sort of antagonism you're talking about with a gentleman on Reddit the other day.

/r/gay_irl is one of those meme subreddits (you can probably guess by the name), but although jocular in nature, occasionally some pretty damn real stuff comes up. In this particular case, a cropped twitter post that was... shall we say very unfortunately commenting on the character of those with any level of religiosity in their lives. Based on the exact context, I commented something about just how anti-theist a lot of queer subs tend to be. He ended up replying to my comment in the affirmative with his experience.

After that it went to PMs, and we spoke briefly about our experiences feeling not just isolated, but even definitionally unwelcome, in those supposedly "safe" spaces on Reddit, himself a gay Muslim, and me a bi Baptist. We went our separate ways after a few messages, but our conversation had given me some clarity.

Those kind of spaces were not the community I want to be a part of.

One of the places I've felt most welcome by strangers in my entire life is /r/mylittlepony, and I found them because I wanted to be a part of a community of like minded individuals.

I had been neglecting being part of that community in an attempt to find a "queer space" where I could feel similarly... but I now feel like that's truly not my community. Others might not feel the same, but I really don't feel like I'm defined by the physical proscriptions of my existence. I don't define myself by being a man. I don't define myself by being bisexual.

I do define myself by being a giant freakin' nerd!

So I've since unsubscribed from multiple "queer friendly" subreddits and have devoted my leisure time and energy to other communities that I do actually like being a part of, like MLP, and Overwatch. I gotta say, I've been a lot happier since.

Sorry to ramble on like this but I suppose what I'm trying to say boils down to this: if you can't find a community for what you are, you may be able to find a community for who you are. And while I won't assume how you feel.. I like to think that based on your willingness to vent here, to people who love you for your work, and your passion... maybe this is that place for you? Not just FiMFiction, but this fandom.

I know your friends and fans here don't know you, the real you, all of you, and even if that's not the exact kind of community you were looking for, well, it is a community.

Maybe it wouldn't even be enough, at least not forever, but maybe for a little while?

Anyways.. I hope at the very least, you feel a little better for the talking about it.

4842355
I... did not know that, and am deeply sorry if you took offence. That was not, nor never will be, my intent.

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