I Know I'm on the Fringes, But I Never Needed Everyone Else to Be Like Me

We're not all gay and that's okay

In some important ways, I am very different from most people. I have been with a woman for 17 years and we are going to get married. I also got pregnant in an unconventional manner and we are going to raise our baby together. Less stark but still somewhat significant is that I am fairly gender non-conforming in appearance and even in some aspects of my personality.

It strikes me sometimes that it would have been virtually impossible to live like this through most of human history and in many places today. I find that hard to wrap my head around because none of these differences have hindered my overall ability to connect with “regular” people and live a happy life. So, rather than dwell on how things once were, I focus on being grateful for how they are now.

I am aware that I occupy a “fringe” as you might call it by living a life that looks different from others in these important ways. While, again, I do not feel that it puts an impenetrable barrier between me and everyone else, there’s no denying that most people’s romantic and family life does not look like mine. But I have always been okay with that. As long as I am left alone to live how I see fit, it never bothered me that most people aren’t like me.

The problem is that while many, many gay people feel the same way as I do, there are vocal radicals in the wider “queer” community that do not. These people are in a constant battle with wider society for daring to exist normally while they themselves are marked out as different. Paradoxically, while they like being different because it makes them special, they are also constantly shouting about how oppressed they are because of it.

But let’s backtrack a little.

Gay activism found success by arguing that we are just like everyone else. Despite being attracted to our own sex, we fundamentally wanted all the same things. The winning side of the movement argued that we could assimilate despite our differences.

But, at the same time, some people tried to push the idea that everyone is at least a little bit “queer,” or bisexual, or that sexuality labels wouldn’t even matter once we are all free to live however we want. There was a desire to pretend that everyone else was more like us than they cared to admit so that we didn’t have to feel so different.

At least this didn’t extend to children, not at first, anyway. For example, there wasn’t a massive push to discuss sexuality in schools when gay people started winning the legal right to get married. SOGI programs did not start popping up in Canadian schools after gay marriage was passed in 2005. I’d say we had about a decade where gay people won our rights and it looked like doom and gloom prophecies about the slippery slope had been laughably wrong.

I still think it’s possible for society to exist in that state, even with certain contingents trying to make the argument that everyone is a little bit queer.

But then the conversation turned to “gender,” and that’s where things went really wrong. Jurisdictions started protecting characteristics like “gender identity” and “gender expression,” and suddenly it was imperative—and I mean legally imperative—to teach kids ridiculous ideas like that the “gender” of their brain could be misaligned with the sex of their physical body.

The extent to which this push was focused on schools and on children is truly fascinating, in the darkest way. As I have written before, Canadian human rights tribunals initially took a more limited view of the concepts of “gender identity” and “gender expression.” What that means is they applied these terms only to people who really were outside the norm, such as people who had taken steps to transition physically or who had a very gender non-conforming expression.

But schools took a different, more “expansive” approach. It was in the schools where, with the help of radical activists, we started to see ideas such as “everyone has a gender identity.” Suddenly, these were no longer discussions about a small, different group of people who perhaps suffered from a type of body dysphoria and chose to live in a visibly different way. No, suddenly “gender” impacted everyone. And, unfortunately, sexual orientation was dragged in right along with it. Keep in mind that SOGI stands for Sexual Orientation and Gender Identity.

The result? We have seen an explosion of young people, mostly young girls, identifying as some flavor of trans. Fewer young people are identifying as heterosexual as well but, from what I have seen, anyway, they are less likely to say they are “gay” or “lesbian” and much more likely to go with trendy and nonsensical labels like “pansexual” or simply “queer.”

At the same time, even as more people identify as “trans” or “queer,” they are increasingly upping their claims of persecution by “cis” and straight people. Same-sex marriage is legal and trans-identified people can pretty much do whatever they want. Politicians, the media, and all of our institutions are captured by queer theory.

And yet it isn’t enough, and it will never be enough. There are still too many “cis” and straight people around for these radicals’ liking. Ironically, if most people weren’t “cis” or straight, then the queer and trans contingent would have no one to play the Persecutor to their Victim in the drama triangle. They wouldn’t be able to pretend so successfully that they are horribly oppressed and milk all of the victim points that come along with that under today’s new system of morality.

The only way to describe this attitude is petulance. For some people, it isn’t enough that their differences are respected and that they are left alone. They must be constantly centered and coddled. They want to enjoy the benefits that do often come with being a minority while never being reminded that they occupy the fringe.

Well, I am a fan of reality. I know I am different in some pretty big ways, but I also know that everyone is unique. Aside from sexuality and expression, there are endless traits that set us apart from others. For several of the past years, for example, my politics have set me further apart from many of my peers than my sexuality. The fact that I am a lesbian is not a problem for my fellow millennials. The fact that I am not a progressive often is.

The world shouldn’t have to change to reflect you in order for you to be more who you are. The only thing we can rightfully ask of each other is for the space and respect to be ourselves, nothing more, nothing less. And it must be reciprocated. No, not everyone is a little gay. And sure, I am a pregnant lesbian, but I can’t deny that we need most people to be heterosexual in order to keep humanity going. I am grateful that this is indeed the case!

Likewise, I have no special animosity for trans-identified people or people who chose for one reason or another to change their sex characteristics. Sure, I find myself at odds with most of them because they tend to be hyper-progressives who deny the reality and importance of sex, advocate for the destruction of women’s spaces, and want to sterilize children. This is why I often don’t like them. I don’t like anyone who argues for these things.

But the trans-identification itself or the choice to medicalize is not something I will instantly judge or dislike someone for (depending on their motives). Nevertheless, I am glad most people do not struggle with these feelings. I am glad most people are able to accept their bodies and not pursue a pathway with such a drastic potential for negative outcomes.

I want to live in a society that can tolerate the fringe because I think it is more dangerous when we cannot. I would obviously be in trouble if tolerance goes out the window. But I do not want to live in a society that lets radical fringe activists dictate how we view ourselves and problematize what is normal.

Isn’t it better to appreciate our differences than to seek to eliminate them out of insecurity? I think it is, but getting there requires the elimination of that insecurity—and that can be a really tough ask.