Being a Queer Woman: Oy

Being one of the few queer people, or at least open ones anyway, in a small community is not what you could call superb. Sure, our fashion sense is excellent, and we have a defining trait that makes a stand out in a crowd, but it ain’t all that.

I have been lucky enough to not have faced any blatant or violent homophobia in my time, and I love who I am, but in this tiny town, being a queer woman hasn’t been easy. It’s the little things, things that may be called trivial, that have made me more than aware that I’m an “other” in this place. Take school dances, for example. You don’t tend to see gay, lesbian, or any other form of queer couple dancing to a slow jam in a tight embrace. Instead, it’s a sea of boy-girl couples who don’t think twice about swaying romantically to “Slow Song at a School Dance No. 5.”

There’s also that bizarre relationship with some girls when I do tell them I’m gay, a fact that, with some, makes them uncomfortable with me. It’s “don’t come on to me, teehee,” or “ohmygod does this mean you’ve been in love with me,” or “how would you know if he’s hot, you’re a lesbian.” It’s these tiny interactions that are particular to me, things that wouldn’t be said to their straight girl friends.

It may seem silly of me to complain about such small things, belittling even of those who have suffered treatment far more severe than mine. It is not my intention to belittle those experiences. What I’m trying to call attention to is the subtle things, the things that aren’t as talked, or aren’t viewed as queerphobic behavior.

All I’m asking is that we think about these things. Think about what you say, the way you act, what have you. Try to pinpoint those things that only further distance queer people in small communities, because trust me, we don’t need to be pushed out anymore.