I came across a familiar quote today, by Alexander Leon:
“Queer people don’t grow up as ourselves, we grow up playing a version of ourselves that sacrifices authenticity to minimise humiliation and prejudice. The massive task of our adult lives is to unpick which parts of ourselves are truly us and which parts we’ve created to protect us.”
It struck me today as it did when it originally soared across social media.
The phenomenon mentioned above was in play as I moved away from my Big-Ass Gay. When I was younger, my out gayness was prominent in my life.
After chemotherapy, my big gay job was gone. I had to reinvent myself without a network and without enough direct experience behind my big gay college degree. My best leads were in manufacturing. The were also the most toxic environments I dealt with as an adult.
So, I protected myself. I altered my manner of speech, my vocabulary, my stride. I dumbed down my wardrobe as applied to work.
Initially, I didn’t think that I was cutting that much, sacrificing anything permanently. Over time, that shifted. The more I advanced, the better my pay, the less time and energy I had to think about it that much.
Advance forward to 2020, sixteen years post chemotherapy, global pandemic dominates the year. The country explodes after George Floyd’s murder. Marginalized communities stand up and get loud. Get louder. In lockdown, little things begins to matter more. Authenticity demands attention as I have more free time.
I start to get mad at myself. I keep getting mad at myself. Coming back out, while being completely out, in my early fifties. At this reawakening, all I see of me are the devises put in place for protection; a hollow shell devoid of my oversized queerness, my personal pinkish-purple unicorn.
Over the past few years, I have been gathering to my queer-ass bosom all manner of “if you hadn’t told me you were gay, I would never have know” back-handed compliments. As my frustration in my lost authenticity grew, I found enough of myself to speak true in those moments.
I have told my boss that this isn’t a compliment to me. That he feels that way because I censor myself at work. That I don’t feel safe being my true self at work. I have told coworkers that I don’t socialize with them because they don’t know me, that I’m not my work-self off the clock.
This is the time in my life for course correction. To cut loose these facades of perceived safety and to wrap myself back up in my rainbow blanket of queer authentic being.
quantum man 