Dequeering myself

Or, sometimes you do what you have to do.

For Pride this year, I went all in. Nails painted every weekend, this last Sunday one hand was trans flag colors, the other nonbinary colors. I have a rainbow wreath on my door, rainbow lights on my porch. I wore short shorts and shirts with queer slogans on them and mascara and perfume. I hung out with a lot of queer folk.

And it felt good. Really good.

But this weekend, I’ll be driving 1200 miles across this great country of ours, and to do that, I have no choice but to dequeer myself.

And that sucks. It really sucks.

I’ll take the nail polish off. I’ll clip the nails short(er). I’ll wear jeans and a shirt that’s not so tight. I’ll leave the bracelets at home. I’ll go “boy mode.”

This is especially galling because I live in the Midwest, and feel no need to stealth my way through my life here. Most of that is because I don’t usually flaunt my queerness, I’m white, get clocked as male, and I’m older. But also, the city isn’t a terrible place to be queer.

But stopping at a truck stop in the middle of Ohio does not feel like a safe place to be all out, as it were. Plus, I’ll be traveling with other people, and I have their safety to keep in mind, too.

The current state of my mental health allows me to do this. I’ll deal. But I know people for whom that would not be the case. People for whom expressing their actual identity is critical to their well being. Is critical to staying alive.

To be honest, this year it feels different to me. It feels like I’m dehumanizing myself a little.

I’ve talked a lot about “wielding my privilege” to benefit other queers. It’s something I take seriously, as part of my elder queer identity. This is the first time I’ve felt the need for someone else to step up and wield their privilege for me. It’s a weird place to find myself.

It’s the first time I’ve actually felt afraid.

I’m going to spend a week at our destination, and that will be a safe space, but the drive home will bookend that time. Do I bring nail polish, and nail polish remover? Do I just boy mode the whole time, or worse, fall into stealthy androgynous mode? Do I bring it up to the people I’m staying with, all loving but allocishet?

Or do I just let it go? I don’t know.

But sometimes you do what you have to do.