Sane Gays Do Exist, We Are Everywhere, and the Queers Don't Represent Us
Thank you to those who know the difference
One of the hardest things about taking part in last week’s roundtable discussion on the Alberta government’s proposed policies addressing youth transition was that the side that was there to speak against the policies pretended to speak for the entire “2SLGBTQQIA+” community (yes, that is the official acronym used by our government).
Now, I don’t mind if they take ownership of the acronym with the understanding that they are representing only those members of the “community” who are “queer” (as in, adherents to queer theory). But that’s not what happens. They incessantly speak for ALL same-sex attracted and trans-identified people, and it’s maddening.
I can’t stress enough that we are not all the same, and I think the main difference between us is those gay and trans people who adhere to woke social justice— particularly queer theory—and those who don’t. What I mean by queer theory, as I wrote in a post last October, is:
Queer theory at its core is about disrupting and breaking norms because it views norms as fundamentally oppressive. It has a particular focus on breaking norms around sex and sexuality to the point that mere acknowledgment of the sex binary or the prevalence of heterosexuality is verboten.
Being gay doesn’t mean you have to accept this new and corrosive philosophy, but you wouldn’t know it from listening to the queer activists talk. They are incapable of attending to the world through any other outlook. Everything, and I mean absolutely everything, can only be seen through this very specific lens.
Those of us who just happen to be gay but not queer do not approach the world in this way and, as a result, we really have become integrated throughout society thanks to the growing levels of acceptance over recent decades. This is an amazing thing! We should be happy and grateful to live in a time like this but, instead, queer theory just breeds resentment: resentment for past wrongs and resentment for today’s perceived (and, I would argue, often imagined) imperfections.
I have been thinking about this a lot lately because, as I have been building connections with conservative people, conservative politics, and conservative organizations, I have been finding gay people everywhere. It’s not that I think gay conservative people are the only sane ones, it’s that I think it is a testament to just how much acceptance we achieved and how integrated throughout all of society we have become. We are probably overrepresented in leftist institutions, to be honest.
And then I get sad, because I can easily imagine a situation in which the queer movement ruins it all for us. In fact, I am sure a blowback is coming. I’m not even sure if we have the time or ability to stop it anymore. It’s a good thing that more people are becoming aware of the excesses of this movement (like the transitioning of minors and the destruction of women’s rights) but, with that, you get more and more people blaming it on the gays, all of us. And when we are always presented as one monolithic “2SLGBTQQIA+” community, who can blame them?
The queers like to gleefully tell me, “they’ll come for you next!” and all I can say back is, “yeah, because they think I am you!” We were cool until you came along and started acting like it was perfectly normal to sterilize and mutilate minors and proceeded to call everyone who disagreed with you a Nazi.
It’s unfortunate. We have been doing well. No, I’m not going to pretend we have become universally loved by all people, but we did find our place in society. We can be out, we can have families, we can take part in politics—and not just on one side.
But the victim mindset stoked by queer theory can’t see a good thing as a good thing. These people often revel in being a minority and, in fact, they often get special treatment for being a minority: I can imagine few other demographics that would feel so comfortable being as rude to a minister as I witnessed at the roundtable. But, according to queer theory, that minority status is always accompanied by oppressed status, no matter how much institutional and cultural power they hold.
The simple fact that most people are heterosexual and fit relatively comfortably within society’s sex stereotypes is something they cannot abide, even when room has been carved out for those of us who are different.
But many of us accept reality as it is. In some ways we are different, but we don’t believe those differences are insurmountable. And we don’t believe we have to demolish all norms to be able to live our own lives.
And I know that many people know that, most especially the people I happen to have as readers, so please don’t think I am asking for sympathy or reassurance. No matter what happens, I just want to make sure that those voices who pretend to speak for people like me aren’t able to completely drown me out.
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