Growing up in Bangladesh, it might be challenging to educate yourself about the LGBTQ+ community. Yes, you can always research online and gather knowledge; however, there’s only so much the internet can tell you. Many articles, blogs, and surveys don’t know you unless you’re interacting with this community. The most important thing is that everyone’s experiences are unique, and while treatment and perceptions can be generalised, experiences cannot.
Sexuality is something that can be defined in multiple ways – sexual choice, expression, and identity; it determines who you’re attracted to. The idea that your gender determines your sexuality is too outdated even to consider a valid definition anymore, yet some conservative minds do support this definition. Other definitions, which are more common today, call it a choice or a spectrum. In short, sexuality in today’s world transcends the binary male-female relationships and is broad. It lacks a precise definition. This brings us to my favourite definition of sexuality and one that I resonate with the most – it’s fluid.
The idea that sexuality is fluid was new to me and took me time to understand, especially in terms of myself. I always thought that even with queer individuals, their identity as gay, lesbian, asexual, bisexual, non-binary, and so on was fixed. Turns out it’s not. Someone who identifies as asexual might struggle with their identity and sexuality at times; gays and lesbians might find themselves going back and forth until they find a term that best describes them. Some people have yet to find a label that resonates with them. Unlike heterosexuality, which tells you ‘this is what you are and that’s final,’ queerness, in its most actual essence, is more about exploring yourself. You have the choice to be confused until you figure it out.
I credit most of my awareness and knowledge about this topic to my Master’s program, in which the queer community was very present and welcoming, and to my roommates, who were more than open to my lack of awareness and direct experiences with what it means to be a part of the LGBTQ+ community.
Let’s start at the beginning.
When I say pride starts small, I mean that it comes with recognizing that I, as a heterosexual (primarily) individual coming from and growing up in a homophobic, conservative community, do not know what it means to be a non-heterosexual person. I know it’s hard and comes with challenges, but I cannot fully comprehend their experiences. It starts with saying things like, “Hey, I’m an ally. But I don’t know much. So educate and correct me when necessary”.
Opening the door for yourself when you find yourself in this community opens a mode of communication and relationship-building that online research can’t give you.
Remember, there’s nothing wrong with saying that you don’t know something but are willing to learn.
This was the very conversation I had with my roommates, and that opened the door to multiple constructive discussions about sexuality. Not only did these conversations inform my understanding, but they also shed light on my sexuality. Also, remember, just because such conversations and interactions help you understand yourself in ways you never would’ve imagined or entertained before does not mean you’re being ‘indoctrinated.’ Not enough, and I cannot stress that enough. The point of any information and conversation, the very end of education, is for you to have the tools to understand and navigate yourself. Think of it this way – if you educate yourself on coding, gather knowledge about the STEM field, and consider switching career fields from, let’s say, the arts and humanities or law, would you call that ‘indoctrination’? You wouldn’t. It’s the same principle. More knowledge and more information make you think differently and reflect on yourself.
It was during one of these conversations that my roommate told me that I was queer not because of the way I identified but because of my political stance and support for the LGBTQ+ community. Which is something I never knew queerness entailed.
Queer isn’t just not being straight, but it can also be defined as a stance about the LGBTQ+ community.
Don’t quote me on this, but it’s an interesting take. Although I’m not entirely sure about this definition and have yet to do my study and have further conversation about this, it felt nice to be accepted (something you’d never hear a straight person say in this day and age).
Pride month is a great sentiment. We celebrate one month for everyone who defies the binary and has the guts to explore themselves in whatever way feels right to them. But like any month that’s dedicated to a marginalized community, it is problematic in that the LGBTQ+ community struggles all year around, and we, who are perhaps spectators of the community, need to be continuously learning about this community if we want to support them. This one month is great for concentrating on this community and celebrating them, but why stop there? Celebrating them isn’t just having parades and supporting businesses that commercialise Pride Month. Still, it’s also holding yourself accountable and understanding that this community is advocating not just for themselves but for everyone to have the freedom to explore their identities.
Sexuality and queerness aren’t things you can define in a sentence. It’s a combination of experiences, cultures, and perspectives that transcend human biology. A state of mind, if you could say so. As someone who loves this community because my experiences with them have been fantastic, I know that not everyone is like that. Regardless, that won’t stop me from educating myself where and when I can so that I can defend and support the LGBTQ+ community if and when situations arise. Also, helping them isn’t just activism. Hugging them is all that is necessary when they open up about their difficulties, being rejected by their family, or feeling confused about who they are after mistakenly believing they belong to a particular sexuality.
I’ve had the opportunity of these direct interactions and conversations that shed more light on the ostracisation queer individuals go through. I’ve listened to stories of escaped conversion therapy, underground movements, communities, and acceptance and rejection. To me, it’s insane to listen to stories about queer individuals being mistreated in the 21st century to the point that their sexuality is labeled as ‘a disease’. I’ve witnessed these mindsets in Bangladesh, but I would not have expected these beliefs to be so rampant in other continents that we assume to be more on the liberal end. The rejection and mistreatment of this community exist in hushed voices and under the veil of healing. But what is precisely meant to be healed?
It’s now hard for me to interact with individuals who reject the LGBTQ+ community despite trying to be open to opposing views – I’m starting to refuse to create space for hateful and degrading beliefs that go back to ‘it’s not natural because that’s not how God intended.’ In that light of argument, did God intend for a society where men get away with sexual violence, consent is unheard of, and women are victim-shamed? As an antagonist, I see the Devil pay more attention to humankind than God ever did.
This takes me to a narrative about my personal experience with rejection, as well as my ex-partner’s ideas about homosexuality, which I carefully avoided discussing with him. Long story short, I said, ‘Let people love how they want,” to which he replied, “It’s not how God intended.” Oh, boy. This statement triggered me at that moment because I was coming to terms with my sexuality and was entertaining if I could even call myself asexual and what that even meant, how that fit into my past experiences and current perceptions of intimacy. Believe it or not, even at the ripe age of 26, you can still be confused about the way you show affection because something doesn’t feel right. It doesn’t all happen when you’re a teenager, and your hormones are all over the place.
His response was shocking when I said, “I’m asexual, and I’ve known that for a while before we even met. I’m just starting to accept it and say it out loud because the people around me make me feel comfortable and that there’s nothing wrong with it. If you don’t at least accept the LGBTQ+ community and actively reject disrespect, and humiliate them, you don’t accept me.” The reply, “What doctor diagnosed you as asexual? It’s these gay people that you’re now socialising with that’s messing with your head.” Yikes. At that moment, I knew how I was supposed to build a life with a person whose beliefs rejected a part of my identity (it wasn’t the only reason, though)
Imagine this sentiment reversed. Your loved ones say that to you because you identify as heterosexual. Rejection isn’t lovely. It’s heartbreaking and damaging. Imagine being subject to a series of treatment procedures and therapy that are aimed to alter your sexual orientation. Now, that’s unnatural.
But don’t get me wrong. Like every community, the LGBTQ+ community has its problems and toxicity. However, since I’m yet to encounter the negativity within this community, I can’t comment on it. However, saying that you reject this community because you had one bad experience with someone who was queer, because that one time someone queer made you feel uncomfortable, is an exaggerated generalisation. If you get to that, I get to say that it’s all men because hundreds have cat-called me, touched me inappropriately, and made unwanted sexual advances towards me. It’s as simple as that.
So yes. Support starts small and with yourself – acknowledging the privileges your heterosexuality offers, acknowledging what you don’t know and your willingness to learn, and allowing yourself to rethink and reflect on your own identity. It’s not to reassess yourself if you’re compelled; we do it constantly, like when we get fired or break up. Moreover, a colourful spectrum sounds much nicer than a black-and-white binary one. So, even if you feel unforgettable with the LGBTQ+ community, that’s fine. But there’s no reason to go out of your way to advocate against them. You’re entitled to your comfort and beliefs, but you’re not entitled to perpetuating hate when your beliefs are met with opposition.