An Outsider's Queerness

I remember a conversation I had with a close friend back in high school. She asked why I never opened up to her, depsite being friends since elementary. I thought I've always did-- I told her jokes, talked about my day, my homework, and played games with her. Wasn't that the core essence of a friendship? I realize it wasn't enough for her. What I show to her, externally, must delve deeper into the sea of my psyche. I would have to show vulnerability, because to be vulnerable is to trust. Trust is important because it's a marker to show how important they are to you, and it directly affects your actions & behaviors with them.

I realize by not showing that with her, I was "untrusting". But, I wanted to respond with my own question. I couldn't find the words and at that point, she left the conversation. I never talked to her again, and I wish I could've put her at ease. At the end, I remembered what I wanted to ask her:

"How can I be vulnerable if I've never been vulnerable to myself?"

"It's just introversion."

I'm a pretty quiet person. I don't speak much, and I don't like to overshare to people I don't know. In other words, I keep to myself a lot. People have similar experiences, and they colloquially refer to this behavior as "introversion".

I liked that word because it made me feel less alone. I was able to associate my identity & character with a single, definable word. And instead of having to justify every aspect of myself on each encounter, I can simply say: "I'm just an introvert".

But, I have a hard time trusting others. I can't bring myself to forge meaningful relationships because of my reluctance to trust. And yet, I loathe superficiality.

Recently, I've met a couple of people my age. They were the perfect match for me: calm, down-to-earth, conscientous of the world, and most importantly, accepting. I found myself beaming as we talked about random topics & experiences in our lives, and I left it smiling shamelessly at how euphoric it was. I realize I might not be an introvert, or more specifically, "just" an introvert. It's not binary. It's not this or that. It's easy to treat it like zeroes and ones, but my true, authentic self requires something in the middle. It requires something that introduces external variables, possibilities, context, or anything that can constitute who I am.

Living in Binary

You're either a man or a woman. You're either masculine or feminine. You're either a dog lover or a cat lover. You're either a Democrat or a Republican.

Binary is a system that represents information in two symbols, a one or a zero. Arbitrarily, the symbols' exact definition doesn't matter, but they must be different. In another way, it's like making a decision: "this" or "that".

We treat our identities as binary choices. I called myself an introvert because I was not an extrovert. I called myself a dog lover because I love dogs more than cats. I'm a man because I can't be a woman.

In conversation, we're racing around the clock to get to know each other. Historically, the easiest way to convey yourself to others is through binary labels. We think of our character as a checklist to compare ourselves with others. Once we enter later stages in our relationship, we can then unfold the binary labels to the truest element of ourselves.

But paradoxically, the present is valuable. To spend every minute grounded in the present, even if we're "running out of time" is inexpicably beneficial. It's nice to have labels, but relationships build by stripping that away. Everybody is uniquely their own, and labels only obfuscate that self from others. To live without binary is to truly be free.

What is Queerness, to me

I'm a very different person than most people think I am. People have told me they imagined me to be much more feminine because of my mannerisms on a given day. Others have imagined me to be short and scrawny, and that my appearance doesn't match my personality. My closest friends can sometimes be shocked when my temperament is much more laid-back and nonchalant, since I tend to be more animated when I get to see them every day.

In other aspects of myself, people think I'm a bookworm, so they're surprised I'm above average in high-octane competitive games. They assume I'm "default smart", and they're alarmed when I display intense frustration in my clumsiness & inaptitude.

These things don't register as expected because it comes with the territory of getting to know someone. You start to unravel these layers that made up your perception of them, and it's up to you to ultimately decide if it affects you or not.

But there's also the intrinsic part of the "unexpectedness" with our true selves. I've once demonized myself for being different. I look up to others who are that version of me I'm trying to convince others I am. But through rose-colored glasses, I only hurt myself by not embracing the "bad" parts about me. What I show externally is my own need to be perceived as. I want to look smart, I want to be feminine, I want to be the "token gay".

But, I'm not. I'm just me. I used to say that with disdain, but now it's become empowering. I am me, and nobody else but me.

Queerness is the expression of the true self. It's a violation of the binary, and an embrace in the spectrum. It takes what was the default, and unravels it to a myriad of possibilities. It's an exploration towards self-discovery, because to discover oneself is to abolish the rules that bound you to a lesser form. Queerness is the sound of doors opening. Queerness is freedom.

I think I am gay. I'm attracted to the same-sex, but I also love fictional women. I used to have female crushes, but I definitely have male ones. But, I think I am gay and that truth is my own. There's no definition of being gay, much like how there's no definition on being "smart". It's subjective, complicated, difficult, and ultimately pointless. Because it's just a part of you, it's not a fact or requires reason or needs special attention. It's pointless to debate because it's the undeniable truth.

So, a fact about me is: I am gay, and I have a story to tell.

Coping without Solace

There's a documentary addressing a large-scale issue amongst queer people called "queer loneliness". I highly recommend taking a look, since it's extremely validating for those in queer spaces. We are entering a new era that openly accepts queerness to seep into facets in our life, but it is a long way from becoming the new normal. Video games I regularly play advocate for queer diversity, movies I watch are now introducing queer issues, and social media influencers have come forward as fellow queers and/or advocates for the LGBTQ+. It's definitely easier to be queer, but we can't rely on others to feel safe in our skin.

Those who aren't queer, those who have a good career, a loving family, a roof over their heads-- they do not have to prove to others to be happy. They are comfortable with who they are because they are our society's definition of normal. When we start associating outside of this normal, we treat ourselves as "less". A person that is different is a person who is not normal. We call these people "outsiders".

It's not just physical differences, but even mental ones. Our need to feel connected to others take priority over our need to be ourselves. Why have your own political ideas when you can lean to a specific party? Why have opinions on how to live your life when you can emulate the life of someone else? Why complicate yourself when being similar to others will make you feel less uncomfortable?

This isn't strictly an internal battle. Many people face struggle from outward backlash and biases from others. We use stereotypes to categorize people we don't know, and to make our judgements on someone despite barely being introduced to them.

However, no one is coming to save us. We only truly have ourselves, and we have to give ourselves the respect we deserve when no one else can.

But to be comfortable, we need to respect our intuition. The choices we make-- the lives we decide to live-- is uniquely our own. In my experience, I felt like I was chasing for a goal I never truly wanted. It stems from envy of others who seem more successful and more accomplished. Workaholism is a manifestion of our need for success, regardless of our goals. It's obsession for more, not a journey to self-realization. I had to revisit my values, my goals, and be satisfied regardless if anyone agreed with me.

It's lonely, definitely, but it is not permanent. As the world changes, we change too. We will find our people, we will find that solace, but they're not waiting for us. We have to fight our battles, learn to channel positivity in ourselves, and seek out others who can carry that same love.

About me, really

I'm not looking for much. I'm a modest person, and I don't need to be someone "great". Throughout my life, I've let my insecurities affect how I perceive being average. The middle of the bell-curve, where everyone mostly exists, was frightful to me. Being special means being unlike others, and I desired that. But, I'm constantly criticized for being different-- I hated myself because I was different. Why am I chasing for a world of solitude when I've always been eagerly waiting for real connection?

Now, I like the word "average". An average is an expected metric, so others can align themselves with that metric. I want to live a happy, no-nonsense life. I want to live modestly, to live within my means, and to be comfortable in my skin.

But, to be average means I'm yet to achieve the top. I want to always learn, to always grow. I want to be on my deathbed, still in the pursuit of learning. Learning is what makes me truly happy, from learning who I am, learning my values, learning to understand others, learning to fight for my truth, it all culminates into my sense of self. Average was never a deterrent to strike your inferiority, but an invitation to be ourselves with every good, bad, and ugly.

There is societal pressure to not be average, but there's no need to prove ourselves to others. It's a false truth to seek validation other than from ourselves, and I've learned to break that notion because it only invites hatred.

Extraordinary people are below-average in other aspects, there is no such thing as a "king-of-all-trades". We live in a world where we rely on extraordinary people in trades, but anyone can tell you that their value in others is subjective. Why bother comparing two beautiful, delicious cakes when we can simply eat both? There is room for you, there is opportunity for you, and you don't need to be anything else than to exist.

Your existence is already enough, because you are beautiful.

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