In-Queer-Y: On Queer Faces of Middlebury

After putting up an exhibit called Queer Faces of Middlebury in the McCullough Center Gallery, I noticed that the word “queer” turned some people off the project.  I personally don’t mind identifying as queer and using it as a personal and political tool to talk about identities and ideas, but I knew that the overall queer community on campus doesn’t feel the same.

Queerness grew on me because it was indistinguishable. I knew that coming out as gay would force me into a box and thought it harmless. I thought that if I just dressed more masculine and dated boys and married them, then the world wouldn’t have a reason to hate me. Being gay was a safe zone for my identity because it prepared me for battle. I learned how not to be affected by the foolishness of intolerant people. Then, I started reading some essays on homonormativity and was completely disgusted by the ways in which I too have been subscribing to a commercialized idea of being gay.

After reading those texts, I started identifying as queer because on a hypothetical queer planet, there is more room for imagination. Reclaiming a word that was previously used as a weapon and transforming it into a shield of a sort gave me power. Its definition was beyond anything I had ever identified with. One of my favorite readings this year was Eve Kosofky Sedgwick’s essay Tendencies where she defines queerness as an “open mesh of possibilities, gaps, overlaps, dissonances and resonances.”

This was also the way I wanted to see myself, as more complex. I was confused when non-straight people didn’t want to identify as queer. To me, getting on the “queer boat” meant that I could finally escape all of the limiting identities.

I was wrong. I was just picking a more fitting label but a label nonetheless. I’m conflicted because those labels are necessary to create communities and to make sure that the stories of queer folk are not erased from our culture. It would be ludicrous for me to say that I too wasn’t saved by the labels gay or queer when I first heard of them because they gave me a place of belonging. In a way, queerness has offered myself to me because it simply just exists. The umbrella term rids us of the burden of having to pick on the spectrum, of having to conform. The term “queer” offers a tint of rebellious behavior that I, too, wish to embody.

On the other hand, the very same reasons why I like the queer identity is why someone might dislike it. The rebellious aspect and the power that is obtained from disregarding other labels does not make the queer identity free. True freedom of sexuality and gender expression comes from not even having a label to work under. This you-can’t-put-me-in-a-box approach becomes problematic because it assumes a lot of autonomy that cannot be afforded by many.

Queerness can provide a community, but what does a non-label person get out of their experience? Is having a queer community always beneficial? There are countless queer folk on campus that don’t feel like they don’t need to identify or interact with any type of queer-centered organization of the event and that is completely fine. I would push those people to further think about the role they can play in sharing their experience with others and centering that experience in a community.

I find it difficult to understand why a non-straight identifying person would be opposed to engaging with their queer community. Partly, Queer Faces of Middlebury was a look into the queer community for straight and non-straight people that never cared to reach out and listen to these stories or just don’t have the time. I think that we can all learn a great deal from each other and see the ways in which all of our lives intersect and go on in their own directions. There is a certain uniqueness and candor to each picture that should be recognized. I had many doubts about the ability to portray such strong emotions but the participants were beautifully intentional about their identity. What does your queer identity mean to you?