This was
intended to be another post related to Queer Romance Month, but I’ve gone kind
of way off topic on this one. It’s turned out not to be so much about being
queer as it’s about being “other”. I've mentally debated about whether or not to post it for over a week now, but here it is anyway...
There are a
lot of different kinds of people who society treats as “other”. I fall into a
couple of those groups.
I’ve
mentioned on this blog before, that I have a few health issues. While my M.E.
has never seen my completely confined to a wheelchair, there have been a lot of
times when I’ve needed to use one when I leave the house.
As anyone
who’s ever used a wheelchair knows, people treat you differently once you’re in
a chair. You become invisible enough for people to walk into, or for them to accidentally
hit you in the head with their hand bag when they turn around. But at the same
time, you become someone other people want to keep their distance from—as if
there is some suspicion that you might be contagious. Physical contact stops.
People who would normally pause to chat suddenly cross the road to avoid you.
Several
years ago, my parents and I went to see a show called La Cage Aux Folles. For
those who don’t know it—it’s a fantastic musical. One of the main characters is Alvin
who performs as a drag artist called Zaza. A lot of the show takes place in a
night club and a fair number of the cast are drag performers in big elaborate
costumes.
I went in my
wheelchair. In this particular theatre, the wheelchair spaces were at the end
of the fourth row from the stage.
In one part
of this particular version of the show, the actors came down from the stage and
moved along the end isles, shaking hands with the people sitting in the end
seats.
I don’t know
if the actors were gay or straight, if they identified in any way as queer, or
if they’d ever done drag apart from in that particular show. What I do know is
that, even when they saw the wheelchair, every one of those performers shook my
hand—no hesitation.
I remember
thinking—maybe these performers with their elaborate costumes and their huge drag
queen wigs—maybe they know what it’s like for people to across the road to
avoid them too. Maybe they get how much that hurts. Maybe that’s why they don’t
do it to other people.
We were
coming at it from very different places, but those performers and I were both
“other” and that in itself can be a way to connect with people.
Now, I’m not
saying that wheelchairs = queerness. Or that any minority who is seen as “other”
should identify as queer.
But, I do
think, in a good version of the world, people who are queer and people who are
“other” in other ways should be on the same side.
Sometimes it
does happen like that.
In America,
you see mixed-race heterosexual couples marching in favour of same sex marriage
because 60 years ago, their marriage would have been illegal too.
When same
sex marriage was being debated in the UK, a straight Jewish man was interviewed
on TV and he said he was in favour of it, because Jewish people and people in same sex relationships have both been discriminated against for far too long - and often by the same people.
I’ve found
BDSM clubs are far more likely to be aware of the need for disabled access than
vanilla venues are.
But
sometimes the world gets screwed up and things go the other way.
You get
signs like “don’t equate my skin with your sin”.
You get
people who fight for women's rights who will only accept the existence of cis gendered women.
You get
dating apps where a lot of gay men look for “straight acting” dates — where “no
blacks, no Asians” is a common statement. So are comments like “no fats, no
femmes” or “no HIV+”.
Go on a
dating app for women who like women and you’ll see a lot of lesbians stating
“bi women, don’t bother”.
In London
Pride this year, bi people marching in the parade were heckled—by gay and
lesbian people marching in the same parade.
Sometimes people
are so focused on being angry that the world treats them as if they are “other”,
they don’t realise that they’re doing exactly the same thing to other groups of
people.
But those
times when you connect—there’s so much power in that, so much humanity in that. If we can find a way to
focus our energy on that, just think what the world would be like.
Imagine a
world where no one ever crossed the road to avoid anyone just because they were
different. It would be a nice world, wouldn’t it?
I think, in
its own way Queer Romance Month is calling for that kind of world. I'm happy to be on the same side of the street as everyone involved in it.
You can read
all the posts so far here.
And my post
here.
P.S. In case
you’re wondering, I have no idea how long this current run of over-sharing on my part
will last either. I’ll probably go back to blogging once every blue moon at
some point.
In the
meantime, there’s more random over-sharing in an interview, and a giveaway, here.
