On Queerness – I’m in Between
Image: Unsplash
Sometimes, nowadays, I wake up early.
There will be weeks where I climb out of bed sometime between five and six in the morning when the street is still quiet, and birds are just beginning to chirp and caw themselves awake. There is silence and aloneness in these moments, distilled into a perfect bubble of time where there is just me and the sun and little else.
For many years and sometimes still, I am the opposite and will stay up until four or five in the morning, enjoy the same blissful bubble for a time, and promptly pass out.
If asked, I’m most likely to say that I’m a night owl. It’s most familiar; the habit I’ve been conditioned to, the safer, perhaps more honest, option. Besides, how can I stake claim among the early birds when I’m only newly and sparingly among them?
It probably should have clicked earlier, my non-straightness. But, in hindsight, it makes sense. There were many years throughout middle and high school where I even questioned myself. I would catch my own, distinctly not heterosexual thoughts and ponder my sexuality before promptly and easily tossing both question and train of thought down some back corner of my mind with a “nah, probably not.”
I turned twenty and the tiktok algorithm was convinced I was queer in some sense. I laughed about it with a friend. They asked me if the idea of having sex with someone with female genitalia grossed me out. Apparently, having the response of “no, of course not” is very a not straight thing of me. It is also, apparently, not very straight of me to be attracted to women and nonbinary people. Nevertheless, it was an enlightening conversation.
I spent many months analyzing this. Alone, in my room, nearly every day, I thought about how I felt about sharing my life and love with someone who was not a man. After these months of analysis, I can honestly report that there is no difference for me; there is only the simple joy and tentative hopefulness that any romantic sap feels when picturing such a life. I hesitate to claim being queer. I can assure you many of my thoughts have been and continue to be very not straight. I have been on a date with a woman whom I like. I am going on a date with her again. I hesitate to claim being queer.
There are many parts to my hesitance. One, namely, is safety. Being queer is not always safe for white people; I stand even less of a chance with my intersectional identity as a queer woman of colour within and outside of my community. This isn’t even to broach the topic of biphobia.
Another is shame. My parents are not strictly homophobic, a product of my constant belligerence against anything approaching prejudice, but I know there would be disappointment and maybe resistance if I was to tell them I was anything less than straight. I am an Indian daughter to a couple who had a very respectable, strictly arranged marriage. I know their expectation for me is to do the same. I have a duty to fulfill as their daughter; my first responsibility is to them, to the family name. I haven’t been perfect in every moment but I have retained the minimum – I have not shamed my family; I have attributed to a good name with my hard work.
“Being queer is not always safe for white people; I stand even less of a chance with my intersectional identity as a queer woman of colour within and outside of my community.”
I fear disappointing them; I fear shaming them. I fear aunties gossiping about my mother’s wayward, shameful daughter. I fear my parents hearing and feeling that their sacrifices and hard work have gone to waste much like our maanam. My parents have told me more times than I could remember that I make their happiness, my success and good name is all they need. I fear breaking their hearts; I fear laying havoc on their peace. My fears are homophobic to its core, the guilt of it burns like acid, but I know there are expectations for me to fulfill and I don’t want to stray from them.
It's an easy thing for me to imagine being with a man. With a nice enough one, there is social security and ease; on a romantic and sexual level, I would not mind in the least. It’s a simple solution to a turbulent issue. I know I seek the easy way out. I crave stability, security, and there’s currently little reason for me to take any risks.
It feels like a sin. It feels like a sin to stay quiet and leave an exit door for myself. I hesitate because I cannot, or rather will not, tell the world proudly that I am not straight. I hesitate because I also fear that if I slip behind my exit door, it will mean I was dishonest and will harm a community of people who need members who are prouder and more defiant than I feel ready to be. It feels like I lack conviction and, if I lack conviction, how can I claim to be queer? How can I even be sure that I am?
I’ve realized, now, that whenever I wake up early or stay awake late, whenever I’m chasing that perfect twilight hour, it’s because I love being alone in an empty world. There is time to exist without implication or question in those moments – there is no judgment because there is no one to be perceived and judged by. In the quiet dawn, I am always sure of who I am. But my terrible truth is that my surety is not enough to withhold the weight of everyone’s eyes.
