So I read the vulture/NYT article and went on an entire rant about the disrespect for queer women and trans and nb non-women, but I want to instead pull out something positive from the Mother of this fandom that describes one of the things that fan fic and queer storytelling has done for me.
I am a bisexual married to a bisexual. I am also genderqueer but present to most as a woman. In college, I was openly queer, but when I married a man, people just assumed I was straight.
We still moved in queer spaces, though I often got treated like a tourist. I still remember an acquaintance introducing me as a fag hag and having to go cry about it because I had been having one of those beautiful moments of community where I felt like I didn't have to perform straight woman. It hurt and made me hesitant to go to gay bars because people saw me as the hated straight women villain of so many rants (see also the articles about how women shouldn't bring their boyfriends to pride)
I remember another night where my husband spent all night flirting with a very hot elf selling jello shots while we enjoyed a drag show. When I noticed a tardis I laughed that queer and nerdy was basically me and the bartender looked stunned. See, because I came in with a man, I must be straight.
I had gay men tell me they didn't date "straight boys" (referring, mind you, to an out bisexual) or tell me bisexuals were gay men in denial.
But I had community. I had friends. I had queer joy.
When we had kids, I just let myself be pushed into the world of straight people. I told myself it didn't matter that nobody saw me. After all, I'm married to a man and we weren't actively dating. So what was the point? If the world is determined to see me as a straight person, I'll just sit in this closet and rot.
I cried every Pride desperate to be seen and loved. I bought a few little subtle bi pride things, but otherwise took the path of least resistance even though it broke my heart.
I was depressed. Isolated. I was more guy than girl but the dads wouldn't talk to me and the moms didn't get me. I cried in the bathroom at baby and bridal showers
One Pride month I said: I'm going to just read and watch stories involving queer people this month. It lit me up like a Christmas tree.
I had never been a huge romance reader but now I was connecting on a deep visceral level. I was crying actual human tears over a love story. Something that never happened to me.
When Castiel Supernatural said I love you and died I had a fucking crumble into dust moment and dived into destiel fan fiction where I found myself in ways I never dreamed.
A fan fic (4lw) with a bisexual lead made me feel seen for one of the first times in my life. I had to put down my phone and cry several times not out of sadness but because I had never felt like this. Like I could be my full authentic self and be loved for it. So beautifully and carefully written. So adored.
I was extremely depressed. Dealing with suicidal ideation. I held on for my kids but I was so isolated and so alone.
And here suddenly were my people. Here was a community I thought didn't want me.
I began to write. And I met friends through writing and Tumblr. Family. Soul family.
My beloved wife @you-cant-spell-subtext-without . My hot Italian side piece @valleydean . My chaos demon Alex. My dear Victoria. So many beautiful lifelong connections.
I discovered thing about myself writing and reading.
I got the courage to come out at work. To advocate for trans kids and genderqueer people at my company. To start going back to queer events confident that they were for me too. I volunteered at Pride in my tiny conservative town. I encased myself in rainbow and took pride pictures with queer actors and actors who played queer characters that meant everything to me. I never stopped reading queer stories. I saw myself on the pages of books.
For the first time in my life, I felt seen and loved for who I am and not for who people assumed me to be. Queer stories brought me community in a way I never dreamed possible.
I found the queer joy I first felt in theater and at midnight in a conservative Southern town at the showing of RHPS. Like maybe there is a place for me in this world. Maybe there are people who are like me. Maybe there are people who LIKE me.
I still fight depression and suicidal ideation. I still get told my sexual orientation and gender are invalid. I still see thinkpieces and posts about how my poly bi4bi marriage isn't queer because people think we are m/f.
But it's never alone. It doesn't kill me. To quote one of my favorite shows. Not anymore.
I take up space. I'm loudly and unapologetically queer.
But most of all, I'm in community with my people again. And the queer joy is a light in the darkness.
We don't have a sapphic bar in Nola, but we do have a Heated Rivalry club night and you can bet your last banana I'll be there. I strong armed a DJ at a work conference this week to play All The Things She Said.
Rachel says she needed an outlet and I feel that on a bone deep level. But she also created a space for people like me. What a beautiful fucking thing. I am so grateful.
I am tired of stupid thinkpieces about women and more so this particular article where I am lumped into this nebulous generalized category of "women" along with some of my favorite authors, some of whom, like me, are not women and who credit fiction as the way they worked through that.
There will always be loud voices making us feel bad about being queer and some of them come from inside the house.
I think a lot about Billy Martin who wrote the first m/m series I read. He was criticized for saying he was a man trapped in a woman's body (spoiler alert he was, he came out and is a seemingly happy and whole trans man which gives me deep joy).
You don't need a long drawn out messy explanation for why people connect to this show. It's because we are fucking human and something in this show resonates with us. Makes our souls vibrate in tune. And especially now, we need that.
We are community in a world that separates us. We are in love. With these characters. With each other. We are creating together. Building together.
You probably can't put that into words anyway. Not with a million gross thinkpieces written from outside observers.
But I think ultimately it doesn't matter. The people who don't get it don't have to.
We have each other.
