Tag: LGBTQIA

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Earning a Living as a Man: the story of Frank Dubois

by Jay Samson

In the late fall of 1883, a series of articles around the United States were published regarding a man by the name of Frank Dubois. 

There was nothing particularly startling or unique about Dubois upon first glance; that is, as he said himself, he “wore pants… smoke(d)… and earn(ed) [his] living as a man.” He was cheerfully married to Gertrude Fuller, who by all accounts declared her love for Frank and the happiness she had in their marriage, the two of them having been wed not long after meeting one another in the spring. He attended balls and events with Gertrude — who he called “Gertie” — and, by working as an artist, was able to provide a comfortable income for her.

What was it that made Frank so important, then, as to have so many articles written about his endeavors? If he was not some elite businessman, thief, or celebrity, then who was he?

Dubois was what many articles described as a “female husband:” a man who had once been known as a woman and who had now taken a wife. The derogatory title was initially popularized by Henry Fielding in his 1746 book of the same name, and quickly became one of the most popular phrases to find in articles of the time; society was enthralled with the idea of what would now be considered transgender — or, in some cases, genderneutral — people, with stories such as that of Charles Hamilton in Fielding’s novel and, in this case, Frank Dubois, blowing up in popularity.

Who was Frank? He had been born as Delia Derthick, and, at 18, had married S. J. Hudson, a man twenty-three years his senior. While married to Hudson, Dubois had been known to wear men’s clothing and to have his clothes fitted to appear masculine, a behavior which, while Hudson found odd, went unquestioned. After thirteen years of marriage and the birth of two children, Derthick seemingly disappeared from the Hudson family home in Illinois; it was then that, in exchange, Frank Dubois appeared in Wisconsin.

Whilst living as Dubois, Frank asserted repeatedly that he was a man and that he would, as phrased in the article History of the Woman Claiming to be a Man and Marrying Another Woman published by the Benton Weekly Record on November 10th, 1883, “not going to keep house for that old man” (meaning Hudson) “any longer, and that [he] would marry a girl.”

For eight months, Gertrude and Frank had been married and living together as painters and lovers, and when Hudson appeared at their home in Waupun, Wisconsin, it seemed impossible that Dubois had once been Hudson’s spouse. Dubois had started quite the life in Wisconsin, and even his and Gertrude’s “most intimate friends” thought of them as a “quiet, happy honeymoon.”

When questioned after Hudson’s confrontation, Dubois continued to assert his masculinity, stating, “I am [a man]— [and] as long as my wife is satisfied it is nobody’s business.” And his wife was indeed satisfied; even past the “reveal” of Dubois’ birth sex, Gertrude also continued to proclaim Frank as a man, accepting of his transition and loving of him nonetheless. The couple eventually shared that Gertrude had been aware of Frank’s transition since the night of their marriage (if not earlier) and that she continued to see him as a man regardless of his birth gender.

Even further, Dubois said very plainly, “I will not return to live with my husband.”

Frank’s story was not singular. In fact, there were many men throughout the 1800s who had also been called “female husbands,” transgender men and non-binary people who had been brave enough to live as who they were.  In some cases, these husbands were forced from their homes and relationships in order to return to the life of a woman which they had found uncomfortable. In others, they were arrested, jailed, and, in some cases, treated violently or even executed. It was rare that such men were left to be the men that they proudly were.

Transgender history is often viewed as singular, transgenderism something new and modern. This is simply not true, and men such as Frank Dubois and other “female husbands” show this clearly. Frank’s story is important and so are the stories of those who faced similar struggles in their identity and the acceptance thereof.

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Rainbow Capitalism and Pride Month

by Meghan Serceki

It’s almost June which means that rainbows appear seemingly out of nowhere in shop windows, targeted ads, and (if previous Pride months are any indication) even on mouthwash?

This is all part of what we now recognize as rainbow capitalism — corporate shows of support for the LGBTQ+ community as a way to bolster their consumer market. Many people have a love-hate relationship with Pride collections, and we’re not telling you not to drop $20 on that rainbow fanny pack, we’re just trying to help you understand what pride truly is and what support for LGBTQ+ individuals genuinely looks like.

Why do we celebrate Pride?

In the United States, most Pride month activities take place in June in memory of the 1969 Stonewall Riots. After years of oppression, the Gay Liberation Movement was gaining momentum by the late 1960’s, but a violent police raid of the Stonewall Inn solidified the gay community’s drive towards political activism.

Nobody was killed during the six-night riot, but plenty of queer activists throughout history have lost their lives and their livelihoods due to unjust and inhumane laws. The simple fact that we can have Pride parades is testament to the sacrifices they have made to give us the freedoms we experience today — even if there is still a long way to go.

What does this have to do with corporations?

Honestly? Not much. Because this is America and we live in a capitalist society, Pride has been picked up by many corporations in their marketing campaigns and products, becoming increasingly commercialized in recent years.

Visibility is undeniably important, and sometimes something like rainbow shoelaces or a “Love is Love” shirt can help signal to people that you are a safe person to be themselves around. This is not the issue with these Pride collections. Where we run into trouble is when rainbow capitalism uses these symbols superficially to support the public image of their brand while engaging in other activities which harm the LGBTQ+ community.

How can we be consumers of rainbow capitalism?

Some of the most important things in scoping out this year’s pride gear are just being aware of where the products came from, who designed them, and what kinds of things the corporations support.

Ideally, buy from queer-owned businesses. A quick Google search will come up with queer-owned businesses to get you started, and other artists advertise their works through social media and sell on sites like Etsy for small independent artists. Pride is about uplifting members of the LGBTQ+ community, so do your best to support them and their mission.

Larger corporations have shown increased sensitivity to the importance of Pride by partnering with queer artists to create their collections. By doing this, large businesses are giving LGBTQ+ individuals the opportunity to showcase their work and are curating products that actually feel genuine and relatable to them, rather than just slapping a giant rainbow onto a shirt and calling it a day.

Actions speak louder than words. So, no matter how many times that shirt has “PRIDE” printed on it and no matter how large and colorful the font is, it doesn’t mean that the company selling it truly supports LGBTQ+ rights. Many companies participate in this virtue signaling but have actively supported anti-LGBTQ+ candidates. Before buying from any brand, do a little bit of research. Ask yourself where their profits are going and if you want part of your money going there, too. Consumers have power in this regard. Use it wisely.

With all this being said, go take a look at some queer-owned businesses, get yourself that fanny pack, and get ready to celebrate Pride and the people who got us here! 

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A Parent’s Guide to Being an Ally

By Carrera Christman

Jamie Lee Cutis’s daughter, Ruby, recently came out as transgender. The media was able to get insight into how Jamie Lee Curtis handled the situation, which in turn, could help guide how best to support your own child if you find yourself in a similar position. 

As gender and sexuality become less of a nuanced topic, it is likely more parents are having these conversations with their children. The first step is to understand that gender and sex are two different things. Sex is the biological attribute a person has; gender is socially constructed, which ultimately allows it to be determined on a spectrum. Gender is fluid, and it can take time and reflection for a person to understand what makes them who they are.

Curtis’s daughter, Ruby, described her experience this way to PEOPLE magazine: “When I was about 16, a friend of mine who is trans asked me what my gender was. I told them, ‘Well, I’m male.’ After, I’d dwell on the thought. I knew I was — maybe not Ruby per se, but I knew I was different. But I had a negative experience in therapy, so I didn’t come out [as trans] immediately when I probably should have.”

Coming out at a young age can add complexity for parents. It may be difficult to process what their child has conveyed, or even question their truth. A lack of understanding is not an excuse to be anything but supportive. We’ll dive into how best to be an ally for your LGBTQ+ child.

More likely than not, before coming out, you can assume your child has thought of every scenario to best tell you about their identity. Some are much more laid back; however, others may be dreading the experience. So, when they come to you, take time to listen to them. Listening allows them to see that you care about what they have to say and understand who they are. Today, about 48% of youth identify as strictly heteronormative, which indicates that more likely than not, your child will have a conversation like this with you.

Be intentional with your words when you do speak. Nothing is worse than passing over what your child just shared. Make sure you convey that you are here for them in any capacity and that you love them no matter how they express themselves. This small action is huge to your child. It shows that your love is not conditional based on how they portray themselves.

Take time to reflect internally, just as your child has done. Many people have internalized prejudices. Navigate through why you have those prejudices and how ultimately, you can overcome them. Ask yourself the hard questions, such as “Why do I have these beliefs?’ or “Does my view affect how I view my child?” The inward reflection allows for growth because, at this time, the best thing to do is to provide love and support to your child. It will take time and effort, but your child will see your progress and work to be better. These actions will not go unnoticed. 

It is significant to note that you can go to your child for their feelings and experience; however, do not rely on them for education and information. You, as the parent, should be well vested in the well-being of your child and do what you can to find out how best to support them. Your child is not there to tell you what it means to be transgender or non-binary; they are there to feel your love however they express themselves.

Understand that it took a lot for your child to open up to you about who they are. Be that person to relieve their tears and fears regarding coming out and what comes next. The best practice is to show compassion and support during this time. One thing to ask is how best you can support them. Doing so allows them to acknowledge if they need space after telling you or if they want to feel close to you. Giving them the power to determine the relationship structure allows them to feel in control of their lives. 

You may have had a different plan for them. That is totally okay, but accepting that things change or do not go to your plan is important. The plan may not have included different pronouns to use or partner to love; however, it is who they are. You would want to be able to live your life the way you choose if you were in their situation. You have lived your life the way you chose. This is theirs, and they need to feel supported throughout it. It may be difficult to understand initially. How would you feel if you were in their shoes? It may take extensive education to understand how your child feels entirely, but it is who they are, and through patience and understanding, full acceptance and appreciation is possible 

Identity is fluid and constantly evolving. The spectrum of how to represent yourself can be daunting, but once you find your niche, it is exciting and makes you feel seen. Your child has found a way to describe themselves in a way that makes them feel seen. Let them live the life they chose, and support them endlessly.

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Rainbow Reflections: It All Works Out Beautifully

By Olivia Williams

In our Rainbow Reflections series, we highlight the experiences of members of the LGBTQIA+ community in their own words. For this series, we spoke to seven people around the world about their varying experiences. For an introduction to our participants and their thoughts on the labels that they use, please read the first article in the series, here. Their takes on the familiar question “Am I queer enough?” can be found here. The phenomenon of coming out is discussed here. In this final installment, interviewees offer advice to other members of the community. 

Despite the fact that they have never met you, seven members of the LGBTQIA+ community, spanning from the United States of America to Spain, Britain, and Australia, want the best for you. True, they may not know much about you, and your journeys may be wildly different, but they have all struggled at some point in their journey. Here are their best pieces of advice. 

On Being Gentle with Your Journey

“[O]nce you understand that you are queer, the specifics of that are only what you need them to be, as long as you aren’t devaluing someone else’s identity in the process. [G]ive yourself the space to look different, to try out different styles, different haircuts, and be aware that you’re not always going to look the way [that] you want. It’s a process, and you’ve [not] done something wrong.” 

  • MK

“I want people to know that you are not broken. It doesn’t matter if you feel a certain way because of a certain reason. You still feel that way. Your feelings in that moment are still every bit as valid as someone else’s.”

  • Kathryn

“It’s okay to be different and for people to not understand you. What’s important is to be comfortable with yourself and to know who you are. Reach out, ask questions, and, above all, know [that] you aren’t alone.” 

  • Edward 

On the Need to Compare

“Looking back, I’d tell myself not to judge my own transition based on what other people want.” 

  • Emerson 

On Finding a Community, and Even Love

“[H]aving people in [your] life just being their queer selves helps a lot [with] embracing the possibilities of who [you] are [are] and how [you] can exist in the world.”

  • Miriam

“It is not impossible to find love, or a healthy relationship, without sex or with limited sexual contact.”

  • Kathryn

“The most important thing I did to help [myself] accept my identity was [to] find community in other queer folks.” 

  • Emerson

“[C]ommunity is really important. I think as soon as I started having friends that were queer, it made it so much easier to learn things and share thoughts and relate, because it is so personal. [A]nd reading about it or learning about it from people who don’t experience it firsthand is never going to be the same thing.” 

  • MK 

On Protecting Yourself

“It’s okay to protect yourself however you feel you need to. Nobody is entitled to your truth if you feel unsafe or not ready to share it.” 

  • Kat

“I just want everyone to know that saying no is an option. You don’t have to be ace or graysexual. Literally anyone, for any reason, can just say no. There is literally no reason to have sex with anyone other than you want to, and you are both consenting and happy to be there.” 

  • Kathryn

On the End 

“It all works out beautifully.”

  • Hannah

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Rainbow Reflections: The Closet Should Have a Revolving Door

CREDIT: ILLUSTRATION BY YEJI KIM

By Olivia Williams 

In our Rainbow Reflections series, we highlight the experiences of members of the LGBTQIA+ community in their own words. For this series, we spoke to seven people around the world about their varying experiences. For an introduction to our participants and their thoughts on the labels that they use, please read the first article in the series, here. Their takes on the familiar question “Am I queer enough?” can be found here. 

Surely my parents knew that I was bisexual long before I came home from Pride Week toting a multicolored flag or started talking about plans for a hand tattoo (three simple lines: pink to represent my attraction to the same sex; blue to represent my attraction to the opposite sex; and their resultant purple). But I never experienced the moment that seems to saturate so many representations of queerness in the media: that customary seat on the couch, the camera focused on the protagonist’s face as they inhale and exhale their nerves before saying those pivotal words: “Mom, Dad, I’m gay.” In fact, that trope often way oversimplifies the experiences that members of the LGBTQIA+ community have when coming out. Firstly, there’s the fact that the concept of coming out itself is individual: some people may feel comfortable telling everyone, or just a single person, or only being out in certain spaces, such as only online. 

Kat’s space includes everyone except her family. She’s sure that they suspect, but her coming out journey has not included telling them yet, as she wants to avoid the conversations she knows will ensue. “Everyone else in the world, I’m open,” Kat says. “I’ll say it loudly and proudly, but there are a lot of deeply dysfunctional parts of my family that have taught me that safety means keeping quiet about anything that truly matters to you within that space.” Obviously, Kat is just as valid as someone who is out to the entire planet. But her concerns are common. This worry – how others will react, the conversations that may follow – was common in each of the conversations with the seven LGBTQIA+ individuals in our Rainbow Reflections series. It seemed to stem mainly from a societal emphasis on heteronormativity. Several people also spoke of a lack of information or representation about their sexuality making it harder to come out.

Although Kathryn knew about same-sex attraction, “no one, not my friends, teachers, counselors, the media; literally no one told me that asexuality existed.” She said this ignorance led to harm. “Because I didn’t know it existed, I thought I was broken [and] because I was the one who wasn’t normal, that I should give my sexual partners whatever they wanted. I thought it didn’t matter because it didn’t mean anything to me. I did myself a lot of damage because I didn’t know that saying ‘no’ was an option.” 

Hannah also felt her options were limited. “I would definitely say [that] I struggled with my identity,” she observes, adding, “I would panic anytime someone mentioned me being gay or asked about my sexuality. I felt like everyone could see it on my face. It just felt like I was hiding this really big thing, and it felt like a lot of pressure.” 

So much of the panic and shame that Hannah experienced is also found in Kat’s experience, and the emotions presented obstacles for both women to come out. Kat’s shame specifically comes from her family. She speaks of when “it was made very clear to my mother that there will be no grandbabies or wedding plans.” “I felt like I then had to create that life my mother wanted [for me]: house, husband, kids,” she says, especially stressing her mother’s desire to be a grandmother. For Kat, the balance between her mother’s disappointment and her own desires is difficult. She explains, “[T]here’s this really strong sense that I’m the last hope of her getting that dream she’s always had, and I’m letting her down because that really isn’t a priority for me.” 

The other main concern that came up in our conversations as a hindrance to coming out was the lack of information about different queer identities. Miriam seems to speak for many when she says, “I feel it would be beneficial if there [was] more conversation around LGBTQIA+ issues. I didn’t really know I could be something other than straight or gay until I started seeing bi[sexual] people in fiction. I didn’t even register so many things I was feeling, partly because I never saw them as a possibility in my environment.” 

Emerson had a similar experience, sharing, “I struggled a lot with being trans. I hadn’t ever met a transperson who presented the way I did. I first came out as a transman, and later came upon the term ‘genderqueer’ and that really clicked for me.” 

As LGBTQIA+ information and the experiences that accompany it changes and grows, hopefully the concept of coming out will as well. Someday, coming out may be seen as more than tense living room discussions. In fact, distilling it to one event at all is limiting. “I’m still constantly coming out,” says MK, “…in meeting new people, having different types of relationships, and discovering new, better words that I would rather use. I’m not stuck on the labels I have chosen to describe myself. I have now decided I don’t really care [that] I have multiple labels that I sometimes use and sometimes don’t…[T]hose are for me [to] describe myself but…[not for] me to justify myself to other people.” 

For Edward, it was those around him who pushed him to officially define himself as a member of the LBGTQIA+ community and come out, while he was perfectly happy. “What I think I struggled with most was the pressure from other people to come out when I didn’t feel any need to come out, he remarks. “In high school, I was asked a few times, in a veiled way, if I was gay. When I started university, the trend continued, with people assuring me [that] it was okay to come out, it was okay to be gay. What was challenging was trying to understand why other people felt the need to effectively police my sexuality and identity based upon [my appearance and personality].” He agrees with MK that as your experience with your sexuality changes, the words you use and the ways that you describe those experiences should change with it. “[W]hy should it matter how society views these definitions?” Edward muses; your sexuality is your own. “But then,” he counters himself, “I think that it’s important to have some commonly understood nomenclature for the human experience, particularly in the context of something as close to our sense of identity as sexuality is for so many.” Perhaps it is not the words at all that are the problem, but the assumption that they, and coming out itself, is a singular, stagnant event. The way we talk about our sexuality can, and should, be fluid. 

Embracing that fluidity is the first step, although the heteronormativity and lack of information that makes the decision difficult in the first place may always be an obstacle, even for someone as self-admittedly “open” as Kat. “So though I’ve gotten better with it,” she admits, “at times I feel as though, by living authentically, I’m letting down my family, or walking away from this intergenerational idea of how things should be.” 

It is only by dismantling the ideas of “how things should be,” from the nuclear family to the experience of coming out itself, that every part of the journey becomes easier. We should all follow the examples of our seven Rainbow Reflections stars and chip away at stigmas and the lack of information surrounding queer identity so that the next generation can come out – or not – as they so choose. The final installment of the series will give each of our interviewees the opportunity to speak directly to that next generation and give advice to other members of the LGBTQIA+ community. 

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Books To Help Us See and Be Seen (Mid-Level Fiction)

By Meghan Serceki 

I recently began working at a bookstore, and part of my job is helping customers find new books to read. The other day, while I was shelving books in the kids’ section, I was approached by a mom who asked me if I knew of any books for young readers that had LGBTQ+ representation. She explained to me that she and her child read books together, and that they had asked her if they could read something about “someone like them.” While there has been more representation in recent years, I realized that the majority of titles that jumped out at me were for young adults, and that most of them involved romance which doesn’t always appeal to younger children.

I decided to do some research and compile some lists of books for different age ranges that represent LGBTQ+ individuals in positive and constructive ways. Books are a great way to bring people together. They can connect generations in beautiful ways as they share intimate experiences and provide hope through difficult journeys and internal struggles. With the holidays approaching, it may be a wonderful gift that makes a loved one feel seen.  #weseeyou

George, by Alex Gino

When George’s class puts on a class play of “Charlotte’s Web,” George wants to audition for the part of Charlotte. But her teacher sees her as a boy, and tells her she can’t get the part. She comes up with a plan to not only play Charlotte but to show the world who she really is.

Gracefully Grayson, by Amy Polonsky

Like George, a school play prompts six-grader Grayson to question the boy gender identity that people have imposed on her. In this thoughtful and heart-felt novel, we see her navigating the challenges of coming out and finding solace in being herself.

Lizard Radio, by Pat Schmatz

Lizard Radio is a quirky science fiction novel for young teens. The main character, 14-year-old Kivali uses she/her pronouns and presents as female, yet while they are living in an all-female camp, they gradually realize that they aren’t male or female, but rather fall somewhere in between. 

The Moon Within, by Aida Salazar

Celi Rivera experiences changes in her body, struggling to make sense of them. At the same time, her best friend grapples with being genderfluid. She seeks to make sense of the changing relationship with herself as well as with those around her. It is written in verse, giving it a beautiful cadence, and the representation of various Latinx cultures provides an added layer of significance and visibility.

Do be aware, though, that some scenes depict anti-trans bullying, depictions of menstruation, and descriptions of the body. 

The Deep & Dark Blue, by Niki Smith

This graphic novel follows the story of two twins, grandchildren of a noble lord, who disguise themselves as sisters when a coup rises up against their family. While waiting out the rebellion, Grayce gets to experience her life as the girl she is, and must soon decide how to live her life as her most authentic self.

Doodleville, by Chad Sell

Doodleville is another graphic novel for mid-level readers. As main character Drew’s artwork comes to life, a wide range of characters present themselves. As they go on adventures together, they accept their gender identities and support each other through various mental health challenges that arise. 

These are just a few of many, and I hope to share more in the future. Happy reading!

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Rainbow Reflections: Am I Queer Enough?

By Olivia Williams

In our Rainbow Reflections series, we highlight the experiences of members of the LGBTQIA+ community in their own words. For this series, we spoke to seven people around the world about their varying experiences. For an introduction to our participants and their thoughts on the labels that they use, please read the first article in the series, here. 

In the image, a green-clad character stands in front of an old-fashioned carnival strength test, holding a mallet. There is a rainbow in the background and the word “Queer” emblazoned on the top of the machine. The metaphor is clear: If you hit the mallet hard enough, you win, and you are allowed to use the label “queer.” If you do not, you are not. There is a clear, definitive line between winners and losers: some people are allowed to use the term, and some are not. Even if the image wasn’t quite so on the nose, the character spells it out for you in a small speech bubble: “I constantly wonder– Do I deserve to use the term? Am I ‘Queer Enough?’” It is one part of a comic of the same name, posted on The Nib by artists Jason Michaels and Mady G. 

Generally defined as Queer Imposter Syndrome, or internalized homophobia, this fear seems to fuel an endless stream of content on the internet. Headlines such as “I Constantly Worry That I’m Queer Enough” and “Am I Gay? Quiz” are commonplace. Edward defines the fear as “the internalized social pressure to denigrate that which is queer, even if it’s within us.” 

Kat has a theory as to the origins of the phenomenon. “As children, we grow up learning a bunch of things from the adults around us and the media we consume, whether actively (by attentively watching it) or passively (the background noise as our parents watch the news, etc),” she explains. This information, which comes from sources such as family, friends, teachers, and “the media of the time or comments of peers” is at its core an evolutionary process, as it shapes how we understand the world around us. However, it becomes dangerous when the information that is being relayed to us, whether intentionally or not, is flawed in some way. “[B]ecause we’re taught to trust the judgment of adults, we take that information as some kind of gospel truth,” says Kat, “rather than seeing it as opinions that have the potential to be biased, or flat-out wrong.” The effect is the same whether you are surrounded by blatant homophobia or simply pick up on them subconsciously. Emerson adds, “Living in the society we’re in, with all the violence and hatred towards queer people, it’s difficult to not take that pain and turn it against yourself and/or your community.” This can result in someone growing up to, as Kathryn describes it, “…hold some unfair ideas about the world, and yourself.” Thus…“internalized homophobia is when, even if you don’t actively believe in homophobic ideas, you’ve got blind spots in your thinking, or you hold negative patterns of behavior or belief that you’re not even really aware you have.” Hannah agrees, speaking to the fear as a “way the outside world has messed with your internal perception of yourself.” 

As Kathryn explains, “part of growing is recognizing [these biases] and working out which ones really align with who you are.” It seems to be a constant journey, especially for members of the LGBTQIA+ community, and involves quite a bit of time “questioning how you feel about yourself and why it is you [are] feeling that way.” Many participants confess to still struggling with internalized homophobia. We saw this most clearly in the words they used: they did not feel like it was “right” to call themselves their LGBTQIA+ identity, or they did not feel like they inhabited the denomination “enough.” For Edward, these words arose when we asked him about his pronouns. “I tend to think he/they,” he said at first, but then added: “However, I question if I’m [non-binary] enough to use gender-neutral pronouns when it’s really warm out.” “At first, I didn’t feel ‘bisexual enough,’ agrees Hannah. “I thought you had to have an equal preference for both, and I felt like I was more likely to be with men. Now, I think I’m more likely to end up with a woman, and have thought about changing my identity to a lesbian.”

Interestingly, all of the participants interviewed were actively and openly supportive of their friends who were members of the LGBTQIA+ community. The problem only came when it was time to admit to themselves that they had a certain identity. “I spent, and still do spend, periods of time thinking that I am kidding myself when I say [that] I’m attracted to people [who] are not men,” admits MK. “[A]nd I still see my relationships with different genders or genderless people in different ways to how I see my relationships with men.” Like everyone else interviewed, “[This] was an issue…just when it was associated with me.” The participant “liked girls, but I was very adamant that I couldn’t be a lesbian because the word sounded wrong to me, like it didn’t fit with who I was [or] I was gatekeeping myself…or being homophobic…” It was only when MK accepted another part of their identity, that of being non-binary, that their reluctance with using the lesbian label becomes clear. “Looking back now,” they explain, “obviously I know that’s because I’m not a girl and I am attracted to not just women, so…that word does not fit.” Miriam also found much of her identity guided by heteronormative dynamics. “I couldn’t see myself as a woman having a relationship with a woman, because somehow I still thought that wasn’t possible or ‘right.’ It took a long while to unlearn all that,” especially when she was later in a relationshp that could be percieved as traditionally heterosexual. “It took me a while to accept I’m still queer while in a seemingly straight relationship. But I’ve accepted I’m the same person and we two are very much queer together.” 

One of the best solutions on the path to this acceptance that our participants have found is acting in spite of their fears: claiming their own identities despite the fact that they may not always feel like they deserve to. For Hannah, “the first time I made out with a girl was pretty important. It just felt really right and natural and I wasn’t nervous in the way I usually am with men; it felt like what I was supposed to be doing.” Taking testosterone had a similar effect for Emerson. “One of the big moments for me,” he says, “was when I heard a recording of my voice for the first time after I got on testosterone. I remember feeling for the first time like my voice was what it was meant to be.” “Ultimately,” says Hannah, “I love both men and women and [I] shouldn’t have to change that identity to make other people, [who] would rather I fit into a binary, more comfortable.” And this includes herself. 

In proudly sharing their stories, these seven participants have continued to strengthen our Rainbow Reflections series and, in doing so, normalized many of the experiences that LGBTQIA+ members share, from navigating the long list of queer labels to the struggle with internalized homophobia. Next, they will speak about their coming out stories.

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What “Equal” Opportunity Means

By Meghan Serceki 

November 19th is the anniversary of the Gettysburg Address and has since been established as Equal Opportunity Day: a day described in 1959 by the New York Times as “an annual national observance dedicated to a basic democratic belief in the equality of opportunity for all our citizens.” Everyone has the ability to make a meaningful impact on society, but the vast majority of Americans face obstacles and barriers to even have the opportunity to do so. 

Although the Civil Rights Act of 1964 prohibited discrimination “on the basis of race, color, religion, sex or national origin,” it wasn’t until the 2020 Supreme Court Case Bostock v Clayton County that sexual orientation and gender identity was added to this list of federally-protected characteristics. This doesn’t mean, though, that this discrimination has disappeared. Trans* individuals in particular face a very unique set of challenges in the workplace which need an equally-unique set of solutions (see “Cultivating a Trans-Inclusive Work Environment”).

For trans* individuals, too, this occupational discrimination greatly affects other aspects of their lives.  It may impact their decision to come out or to transition. While companies cannot fire or deny employment to people explicitly because of their gender identity, they sometimes still do so, covering up the discrimination by giving other explanations which are not tue. This makes trans* people especially vulnerable to layoffs and disadvantages them in the hiring process.

Beyond this, there are those who may feel uncomfortable at work, fearing their coworkers will judge them. The average person spends 13 years of their life at work, and most people see the same colleagues every day. If these people express hatred or otherwise make a trans* individual feel uncomfortable, it can have far-reaching effects on their mental health, their drive to advance within the company, and their overall well-being. In this event, the individual may choose to find new means of employment. While it is in no way their responsibility to leave a company because their coworkers are intolerant, work can be extremely uncomfortable for trans* people, even bordering on unsafe. Leaving might remove them from a bad situation, but there is then the same gamble at a new company. 

In addition to this, a main factor in advancing within a company is the amount of time someone has been with said company. Leaving essentially restarts the clock, often moving them back in their careers, making them prove themselves once again, putting them at a disadvantage when up for promotions, and leading to an economic disparity. Benefits may be lesser, too, as some companies require a person to work there for a set number of years before being eligible for retirement aid.

Even if someone makes the decision to transition anyways, they may choose to keep it a secret from the people at their work. This idea of “going stealth” may work fine for a time, but keeping transness a secret gives it a certain sense of taboo, and plays into the idea that it is a deviant identity. My friend Magdalene recalls a long while where she was taking hormones and developing breasts, but was “boymoding” to work — what she describes as her “transmasculine era.” She wore baggy clothes, practiced chest-binding, worrying that someone there would notice differences in her body.

Having equal opportunities is not only a factor in one’s career, but it has innumerable implications on the rest of many trans* people’s lives. The way an individual identifies should be no one’s choice but their own. Coming out is already such a difficult and complex process; fear of it hurting one’s career should not be yet another obstacle. Legal protections are so important, but creating a world in which everyone is granted the same opportunities requires us all to take part and hold ourselves, and others, accountable.

If you believe an employer has discriminated against you, seek outside help and consider filing a complaint here with the Office of Federal Contract Compliance Programs. 

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Rainbow Reflections: 7 LGBTQIA+ People Share Their Experiences with Labels

By Olivia Williams

When my friend Hannah was about ten years old, she found herself unable to look away from the sight of Christina Ricci on her television. “I panicked that I was a lesbian,” she reveals, before mentally rationalizing away that identity by focusing on the attraction she felt for men. In fact, it took her until freshman year of college to “finally admit I love women and feel comfortable in that,” an identity she said she hid from herself  “probably from age 13 to 18.” Hannah is now happy in her bisexuality. She says, “I’m comfortable being like, ‘Oh, she’s hot’ when watching TV with friends and not feeling like I have to hide that part of myself.”

Hannah is not alone in her struggle to correctly identify her sexuality. According to Gallup, 5.6% of the population in the United States of America today identify as part of the LGB community: either Lesbian, Gay, or Bisexual. The Williams Institute found 0.6% of the population is transgender. Within these scientific labels, however, there are other identities, ranging in terminology and definition. Each person who makes up these statistics has a story, just like Hannah, and just like The Cloud Dancers Foundation founder, Robina Asti. Their stories differ just as much as their subjects do, and exploring them helps us to connect to each other. In fact, that same little ten-year-old on her couch says today that finding a community helped her claim her sexuality. 

Curious as to the differences and similarities in stories like these, Cloud Dancers sat down with seven members of the LGBTQIA+ community from around the world. We spoke about how they have found the identities that they inhabit now, their personal experiences with internalized homophobia, their coming out journeys, and the advice they’d give to the next generation. Compiled into our Rainbow Reflection series, these stories give voice to some of the myriad of experiences held by members of the LGBQTIA+ community.  

For most of the interview participants, distilling their identity down to a few words was nearly impossible, and many of them use multiple identities. In fact, even the process of finding accurate labels for oneself and deciding what labels to use is a deeply personal process, according to MK, who asked to be identified only by their initials. “The limited information I had growing up gave me only so many labels I could use for myself,” MK said, so they had the “impression that I needed labels [in order] to be valid.” 

Even now, some of MK’s description of their identity is marked by their audience. “In terms of sexuality specifically, I use bisexual as well as queer to say I’m attracted to any gender and that gender doesn’t really influence how I feel about people. [Bisexual is] a more known and recognized term and so outwardly, with other people, I use it, but I don’t always feel it internally,” MK said. 

When not editing for a social audience, however, MK tends to focus on three terms: queer, non-binary, and gay: “I basically use these terms because they seem to be the more vague and broad versions of labels and terminology within queer circles.” Using general labels such as queer helps MK to “distance myself from gender and be aware in my otherness.” 

In fact, the universality of the term “queer” seemed to resonate with several participants, including Miriam. “[Q]ueer is the word that overall resonates with me the most because it can encapsulate more than sexuality,” she says. “Destroying the notions of binaries and sex as [just] a reproductive act appeals to me on philosophical and everyday life levels. For now, I’m trying to change the narrative and be more playful around my identity and presentation.”

Emerson also welcomes the freedom of the queer label, and, like Miriam, turns away from the bigender binary by identifying specifically as genderqueer, an identity that is associated with the rejection of the traditional gender binary. As for sexuality, he identifies as quoiromantic. “For me, being quoiromantic is being unable to tell the difference between platonic and romantic attraction. For most people, there’s a clear line between ‘I want to be friends with this person’ and ‘I want to date this person.’ But for me, that line has always had to be explained.” According to LGBTA Wiki, people who identify as quoiromantic, also known as Whatromantic or even WTFromantic, do not want to or cannot define their romantic orientation. It is a “disidentification with the romantic/nonromantic binary.” 

Although the “queer” moniker specifically was not used by the other four participants, three of them had a similar experience while trying to define themselves. “I went with heteroflexible at one point because it feels the most comfortable and accurate,” says Edward, adding that he has also used the “bisexual” label, as well as “pansexual.” “Most of the time I’ll just say straight if asked,” Edward said. “I don’t want to get into the queerness, which I think might be something of a privilege.” 

Similar to Edward, both Kat and Hannah have experimented with calling themselves bisexual. Hannah has kept the definition, saying, “To me, this just means that I’m sexually and romantically attracted to more than one gender.”  “For a long time I identified as bi,” Kat said. “I had inadvertently excluded non-binary people from the narrative I was telling myself.” She now likes the label “pansexual,” which means “I love and am attracted to people without gender or genitalia being a deciding influence. The gender of a potential partner isn’t a factor in entering into relationships for me.”  

Kathryn, who identifies as “graysexual, demisexual, pansexual” acknowledges that her identity might be quite a mouthful to those who aren’t used to it. Going in order of her labels, she explains, “For me, these three labels explain that I rarely experience sexual attraction, that I require an emotional connection to a person before my brain even considers sexual attraction to be an option, and that I have experienced attraction to both men and a genderfluid lesbian (my fiancée).” 

Several interviewees also struggled with reconciling their identities with the world around them, which operated on a baseline of heterosexuality. Kat details how her mom “wanted grandbabies, wanted us to settle down with nice men. My whole family’s default with heteronormative, so I grew up with the idea that straight relationships were the only relationships in my family.” This was only compounded by Kat being “a child of the 80s” and thus experiencing “a lot of deeply concerning conversations around the AIDS crisis,” which made it “hard not to walk away with the idea that straight relationships were safer and more normal/appropriate.” 

Emerson describes being raised in a rural Catholic town. “In school, I was singled out as ‘the queer kid’ [and] bullied often.” Edward remembers “off-handed comments” made by family members which “definitely altered my perception of queerness to some extent, by making it seem out-of-bounds.” He credits the acceptance and tolerance of his friends in his late adolescence for challenging these beliefs.  

For Hannah, who admits to being raised “in a very liberal and left household” with parents who “had friends that were gay” and ensured that she “always grew up knowing it was an okay thing to be,” the world outside of her house was not as accepting. “Outside of my parents, however, I lived in a really small, rural town in Illinois, and homophobia was pretty common,” she says. Stacked against the accepting ideals of her parents, this made for “a weird dichotomy, because I had really supportive parents and lots of my friends were gay, and I consumed a lot of queer media, but kids at my school and adults in the community were pretty homophobic.” 

There is even bias among the LGBTQIA+ community. Speaking for the asexual community, Kathryn says, “[T]he ace narrative is [not] a big enough part of the LGBTQIA+ community or conversation yet,” she says. “It is so common that we are left out, and when you already feel broken or like something is wrong with you, being excluded from conversations or campaigns or charities or communities adds to that feeling. It’s so lonely.” 

It is this kind of loneliness that the Rainbow Reflections series aims to combat.  Visit CloudDancers.org to sign up for email updates and be first to know when the next article in this series is available. The next topic: addressing internalized homophobia.