[Vol. 2] What Do Queer People and Benjamin Button Have in Common?
We both age in reverse ... and grow up to be extremely attractive.
Set the scene: I was standing in a socially-distant line of two outside Levain’s bakery in Harlem (the place is so small it can only fit like one person at a time). To keep my pre-cookie, pre-lunch mind from fixating on the total lack of sugar, spice, or anything nice at all in my empty stomach, I decided to try and brainstorm a concept for my next newsletter instead.
That was a total bust.
All I could think about was the gooey, chocolate-y, walnut-y goodness waiting for me on the other side of the storefront.
Instead of wasting any more time trying to be productive on an empty stomach, I distracted myself by swishing my coat back-and-forth. That’s when I fell down the rabbit hole.
Not to keep you in suspense, but didn’t get ‘That’s Gay’ in your inbox? Make sure you get it next time and subscribe below. Then, if you feel up to it, help get the word out!
(DM, Instagram, Twitter, Facebook – oh so many poisons to choose from)
On that particularly frigid December day, I was having the opposite of S.A.D. (Seasonal Affective Disorder).
Here’s why I think that is:
I was wearing my recently-thrifted, long, swishy peacoat that made me feel like a fancy yet authentic New York City badass
I was on my way to get four giant cookies from Levain’s
I was feeling more “myself” than I had in a long time
If you’re wondering why I had to get four cookies, then please mind your own damn business.
If, instead, you’re wondering why I was feeling more “myself” than I had in a long time, then I’ll happily tell you.
I was dating more than I had in a long time, I’d just started this newsletter – a biweekly commitment to writing all about queer issues – and I was wearing what I wanted to wear.
If this seems like pretty every day, “and so what?” stuff to you, I don’t blame you. Also, consider yourself lucky – I certainly do.
As a queer person, I wasn’t always free to do what I wanted or to be myself.
If I’d worn that long, flowy, women’s coat back in the High School days, I don’t think it would have gone over as casually as it does now.
Or maybe it would’ve – who knows – I graduated from a pretty liberal, open-minded High School. But does it even really matter? Regardless of whether people would’ve given me shit for wearing what I feel better represents my ever-growing gender-queer style, I’d somehow gotten it in my head that they would; that the clothes I dreamed of wearing were not sewn for me.
Beautifully billowing, ankle-length, flowy coats were women’s things.
Crop tops were something I wore in my room, with my speaker on high and the door securely locked. Still to this day, jewelry, makeup, and all sorts of fun accessories and trinkets remain, in my mind, somewhat off-limits.
And I’m just talking fashion here to give you a tidy example, but trust me, the list of things people (queer or otherwise) are convinced are not for them is as long as it is diverse. Sports, majors, relationships – you name it, it’s gotten the proverbial, big ol’ red X drawn over it before.
In my experience, it’s only as you grow up that you realize all these “off-limits” and “do not enter” signs are total bullshit.
Everybody is born with “fuck it” energy, but only a lucky, privileged few get to carry that energy through their childhood.
Queer or not, I think most everyone can relate to the world testing the confidence of your early years. Relatable as that may be, however, it can be particularly challenging for queer folks.
Most of us don’t grow up having older people we can see ourselves in. Even if we did, would we recognize ourselves? Queerness is largely invisible – many of us don’t grow up wearing it on our faces or expressing it in our style.
As something invisible, queerness can be easy to lose sight of. We may be “born this way” but we don’t all “stay that way” (Lady Gaga’s soon-to-come sequel anthem, if you didn’t know). Our sexualities, gender identities, and many of our inherent ways of expressing ourselves may be hard-coded into who we are, but often enough they are things we have to find again after growing up internalizing a massive phobia of being “different”.
But that starts to change as we grow up. We allow ourselves to be kids again.
We throw temper tantrums in the face of these “off-limits” signs.
We tug at the jacket of those that told us “that’s just how it is” and we ask, “Why?” We ask “Why?” until the explanation has eaten itself whole like a snake biting its own tail.
We say “fuck it”. Okay, maybe most naive children aren’t going around saying “fuck it”, but they certainly have “fuck it” energy. You know those kids stripping fully naked and running around on the beach? If that isn’t “fuck it” energy, I don’t know what is.
So queer people and Benjamin Button are not so different after all.
The lead in The Curious Case of [you guessed it!] Benjamin Button ages in reverse due to a unique medical condition. Queerness may not be a “unique medical condition” (a big shocker to all the crackpot psychiatrists from the 50s) but it has a certain Benjamin Button-esque quality to it.
We both age in reverse. While Mr. Button does so literally, many in the queer community do so psychologically and symbolically. We may never get our naivety or baby’s-bottom, acne-less skin back, but we do win back that self-assured, strip-naked-on-the-beach type energy all the same.
That energy is insanely hot – just like Benny Button himself.
We may not all be blessed with Brad Pitt’s naturally chiseled jawline, but I’m not talking about the kind of attractiveness that’s relegated to your bone structure here.
I’m talking about the one-of-a-kind, irresistibly-sexy essence of self-love and self-confidence that eventually oozes from every queer person I’ve met who’s grown into themselves. It’s an attractiveness that is as intoxicating as it is infectious.
Anyone, queer or not, can ooze it (love that word), but it’s the shared challenge to the self that I think makes it so ubiquitous in the queer community.
It’s the throw-your-head-back-laughing kind of beauty that comes with knowing oneself and letting that self be known.
But just as true beauty isn’t won without a fight, you can’t exude this energy if you’ve never known a reason to keep it in.
I guess that’s the edge to queer beauty; it’s always a little bit rebellious.
And that was That’s Gay, Volume 2. See you in Volume 3, folks!
Want Volume 3? Not signed up yet?
Want to share this specific newsletter with someone special? Perhaps, someone you know that absolutely oozes that special something? (P.S. I’ll promise never to use that word again).