Unpacking the term ‘queer’, its history

— And what it really means

Yes, it’s an identity, but it also conveys a sense of community

BY Sophie Saint Thomas and Rachel Varina

A quick geography lesson: whether you live in a loud and proud liberal city or a small, conservative town, queer people are everywhere. And, hi, even though we still have a long way to go in regards to equality, we are making some progress in terms of queer visibility and acceptance. That said, just because society has broadened its language and begun to embrace the spectrum of sexuality, you might still be wondering what queer actually means.

According to Elise Schuster, co-founder and executive director of OkaySo, the simplest way to define ‘queer’ is ‘not straight’. For Schuster, it’s an identity and/or orientation that doesn’t align with the heteronormative expectation that everyone’s automatically heterosexual and heteroromantic. “Queerness is about being outside of the normative,” adds psychologist, author, and speaker Liz Powell. “Queerness is about swimming upstream. It’s about your presence in a culture that is heteronormative, that is cisnormative, that is mononormative.”

Even though more identity-related words are being added to our dictionary, many folks still opt for the reclaimed term ‘queer’. Considering how many people the term describes — as individuals, a community, and even a form of political resistance — queer is a crucial word to understand and celebrate. Whether you identify as queer, want to know if it’s a label you can or should be using, or you’re trying to become a better ally, this exploration will offer everything you need to know about the definition of and history behind the term. Let’s dive in, shall we?

Which orientations fall under the queer umbrella?

Since ‘queer’ is such a broad term, it’s a little confusing to determine who, exactly, it applies to. According to Schuster, “any [orientation or identity] that’s not straight” is considered queer. “Beyond that, it’s really about if the person with that identity wants to see themselves as being part of a larger queer umbrella,” they explain.

To many, queerness encompasses an intersection of identities. Certified sex therapist Amanda Pasciucco adds that the term indicates an “individual who self-identifies as either lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer (also sometimes called ‘questioning’), intersex and/or asexual, AKA the LGBTQIA+ community.”

To keep it supes simple, if someone describes themselves as queer, it’s quite often because their sexual orientation and/or gender falls under the LGBTQIA+ umbrella rather than the heterosexual norm. That said, there are so many ways to identify as queer, so if you feel like you’re queer and want to own it, go forth with pride.

preview for Gender Identity and Sexuality Terms to Know

Does gender fall under the queer umbrella?

It’s important to remember that sexual orientation and gender are two different things. While orientation is about who you’re attracted to romantically or sexually (bisexual, lesbian, gay, etc.), gender identity is about who you are, whether that’s non-binary, a man, woman, or genderqueer. However, queer can describe orientation, gender, or both at the same time.

“This term has a triple meaning,” says NYU professor of sexuality, scientist, and writer Zhana Vrangalova. “It is meant to designate non-heterosexual sexual orientation, a non-binary gender identity, and then the third meaning is both, at the same time.”

So while gender and orientation are different, they both fall under the queer umbrella.

So… which orientations aren’t queer?

The definition of queer varies depending on who you ask, so it’s a little tricky to determine who isn’t queer. Since sexuality is a spectrum, it sometimes makes using the term polarising for bisexual and heteroflexible individuals (even though they totally count). Generally, someone who is heterosexual, heteroromantic, cisgender, and monogamous wouldn’t be considered queer — but there’s an exception

Pasciucco, for example, utilises the ‘+’ sign when referring to the queer community in order to indicate pangender or pansexual individuals and those in alternative relationship communities, such as polyamory, kink, or non-monogamy. “As a person who is mostly in other-sex relationships, not all individuals who identify as queer believe that people like me, or people in the plus [of LGBTQIA+], ought to be included in the community,” Pasciucco explains.

There has been some controversy regarding whether it’s PC for straight polyamorous people to call themselves queer. While many in these communities argue that they certainly live outside of the #tradlife norm and should therefore get to call themselves queer, critics argue that for a straight poly person to use the word unfairly piggybacks on decades of LGBTQIA+ activism to gain fundamental rights and celebrate their identities.

two individuals lie on a textured couch with one positioned sideways and the other resting their head back the person on the left is wearing a striped shirt while the other is in a light coloured jacket the surroundings feature soft lighting and plants creating an intimate atmosphere their body language suggests a comfortable connection

And the truth is, some people within polyamorous or kink communities do identify as queer even if they enjoy solely heterosexual relationships. “Just because it’s one penis and one vagina, that doesn’t mean there’s not some queer aspect of you,” queer sex therapist Kelly Wise explains.

For some, the broadness of the term ‘queer’ can be challenging, as it doesn’t offer the same precise picture that other identities, such as lesbian, paint. “I like that broad definition and the vagueness of it and the inclusivity of it,” Vrangalova says. “I personally love it as an umbrella for all of the diversity.”

That’s why it’s always best to use the labels someone chooses for themselves, even if they’re not the label you yourself would’ve used in their situation. When in doubt, just ask how someone identifies, and don’t forget to ask their pronouns while you’re at it.

Is the word ‘queer’ an insult?

The celebration and use of the word ‘queer’ is one of reclamation, since not too long ago, it was used as a slur. “Back in the day, definitely when I was growing up, the word ‘queer’ was a derogatory term,” Wise says.

Schuster adds that it was used to say someone was ‘wrong’ if they were gay or different.

It wasn’t until the late 80s that the LGBTQIA+ community adopted the term as a form of pride. “I like to think that my queer identity is me saying, ‘You thought you were insulting me, but this is actually something I love about myself’,” Schuster says.

“My queerness is about ways that I am challenging the structures of our society”

That’s partly why, for many folx, queer is also a political identity. “My queerness is about ways that I am challenging the structures of our society,” Powell explains. “And so for me, that is really where queerness lives, in the ways that you are aligning and going with structures in society or fighting it,” they say.

An important note: while the word queer is generally celebrated, some LGBTQIA+ folks still prefer to avoid it due to its discriminatory history. Schuster notes that the term hasn’t completely lost its negative potential.

“It’s safest for folks who are in the LGBTQIA+ community to use the word, especially when referring to an individual,” they explain. If you’re referring to the queer community (but you’re not a part of it), Schuster suggests just using ‘LGBTQIA+’ to avoid coming off unintentionally derogatory. And if you’re ever unsure what label someone uses or the term they prefer, politely ask them! “Like any term, it is entirely up to an individual how they want to identify and use this language,” Schuster says.

couple lesbian woman with gay pride flag on the street of madrid city

Is queer a sexual identity, a gender identity, or a community?

Queerness is more nuanced than a sexual identity or gender identity, says Pasciucco, who adds that it’s a fluid movement “beyond the binary of cisgender and heteronormativity”. As Nicole Scrivano, one of Pasciucco’s colleagues, explained in a blog post:

“As queer women, we come in a variety of forms, identities, and belief systems. Some of these identities are within sexual identities of bisexual, lesbian, gay, pansexual, etc. Some of these identities are within gender: transgender, cisgender, non-binary, femme, gender flexible, etc. Relational identities such as monogamous, polyamorous, swinging, open, etc. Queer women are on a spectrum of gender and sexual fluidity.”

Some folks who fall anywhere in the middle of the sexual orientation spectrum will describe themselves as queer, rather than bisexual or pansexual. Others will use both and introduce themselves as ‘bisexual and queer’, for instance. And, as noted, the term ‘queer’ is also used by those whose gender does not fall on the binary.

Other LGBTQIA+ folks may identify as queer for the simple reason that it’s easier to say one word when describing themselves.

So, not only is ‘queer’ used to describe sexual, romantic, and gender identities, but as previously mentioned, it can also be used to describe the LGBTQIA+ community. Wise says that in using ‘queer’ as a community term, it creates a sense of acceptance. “There’s an aspect to it that doesn’t allow for isolation.”

Ultimately, the definition of queer might be different depending on who you ask, but all the experts agree it’s a powerful word that celebrates accepting yourself and others for exactly who they are.

How do I know if I’m queer?

Considering that ‘queer’ can refer to sexual orientation, gender identity, community, politics, and, perhaps controversially, even relationship formats, it may seem like the word is up for grabs for everyone. Generally speaking, if you’re straight, cis, and monogamous, it’s probably best to leave the term for those whose identity falls outside such norms.

However, if your identity isn’t straight, cis, and monogamous, and the word queer just feels right, go ahead and use it to describe yourself and meet other queer folks. Not only will you foster a community and build a chosen family that can make the troubles and trauma that come with being queer easier, but you can continue to take back the narrative from centuries of oppression. So, cheers, allies and queers, and continue to wave your pride flag as flamboyantly as you want.

two people are engaged in a warm embrace showcasing a connection one individual wears an outfit featuring bold turquoise and blue stripes while the other is dressed in a sleek black top the background is colourful with a large mirror reflecting additional figures and patterns various objects including a rolled up item and a bag are scattered nearby contributing to the lively atmosphere

How do I find queer community?

Finding your queer community might seem daunting, but there are many avenues to explore. Start by engaging with online platforms and social media groups, using search terms like #Queer and #QueerCommunity on Instagram and TikTok.

Local LGBTQIA+ organisations and community centres also provide a plethora of resources, from support groups to social events. Attending local events, such as Pride parades, workshops, or LGBTQIA+ art exhibitions, can also be a fantastic way to meet people and foster connections within the community. Virtual communities can be a lifeline for those in smaller towns or more conservative areas, offering support and a sense of belonging without geographical constraints.

Lastly, consider reaching out to local queer bars, cafes, bookstores, and volunteer organisations. These places often serve as informal community hubs and can provide a relaxed environment to meet new people and exchange ideas. Remember, every interaction doesn’t need to lead to a deep connection, and it’s essential to respect that not every queer person will openly claim their community. Even today, it’s not safe for every LGBTQIA+ person to be out, and part of being both a good ally and/or member of the queer community is letting others decide how and when they come out. If you are in a position to do so, use your privilege to help fight queerphobia to the best of your abilities.

By understanding the diverse and dynamic nature of queerness, you can more confidently explore and engage with communities that affirm and celebrate your identity. Embrace the journey, knowing that each step you take is a move towards finding a space where you can truly be yourself.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

October 16, 2024May 9, 2026

What is Plato’s Symposium, the classic book drawn into the Gender Queer culture wars?

Plato’s Symposium, Anselm Feuerbach, 1869

By Matthew Sharpe

It was probably inevitable, but is deeply sad, that Plato’s Symposium (circa 380 BCE), has been drawn into the culture wars. A dialogue of great complexity and elegance, the book is one of the principal sources of the Greek philosopher’s views on love and beauty.

There are also darker political undertones of the decline of Athenian democracy, surrounding the character of Alcibiades who crashes the drinking party the book depicts. There is a lot going on in The Symposium, and a lot we can learn from.

An illustration of a sexual fantasy inspired by The Symposium features in Maia Kobabe’s graphic-novel memoir Gender Queer. This week, the federal court ordered the Australian classification review board to review its assessment of Gender Queer, finding it had ignored, overlooked or misunderstood public submissions for the book to be censored.

Rightwing activist Bernard Gaynor had applied to the board to review the classification of the book. Gaynor’s barrister, Bret Walker SC, argued in court there had been a “broadbrush dismissal” of submissions the board claimed were anti-LGBTQ+ when many submissions objected to what they saw as “paedophilic” depictions of a man having sex with a minor – an image portraying Plato’s Symposium.

Plato’s work comes from a different culture to our own. This was a culture in which, at least among aristocratic males, there were norms around sexual morality that are not our own.

In this context, as Michel Foucault has shown in The History of Sexuality, there were norms surrounding same-sex relationships between elder and younger men that many contemporaries will find deeply morally problematic. But this does not detract from the book’s importance, nor does it exhaust the work’s content.

Far from it.

Love, beauty, and Plato

The Symposium, as its title reflects, is a dialogue between seven leading figures in Athens, set in the controversial year 416 BCE. This was the year in which Athens, spurred on by the charismatic, hawkish demagogue, Alcibiades, sent its navy fatefully to invade the Italian city of Syracuse.

Cover of The Symposium

Alcibiades was, around this time, withdrawn from his command of the fleet: accused of desecrating sacred statues on the night before the fleet’s departure, and of impiously staging religious mysteries.

The party in The Symposium soon becomes a setting for the leading participants to each give speeches on the nature of love. Probably the most famous is that of the comic playwright, Aristophanes.

He argues human beings were, initially, unlikely round figures who developed the hubris to challenge the Gods. As a result, we were chopped in half and became sexed beings. Each of us was thus condemned to seeking our lost “other half” through sexual love.

The hero-philosopher Socrates’s speech is similarly colourful. It features him reminiscing on a youthful visit to an exotic priestess, Diotima, who taught him everything he knows about love.

Love, suggests Socrates, (rather wonderfully), is the longing to give birth to beauty. It is tied to the human longing for immortality. We are drawn by the beauty of others to try to unite with them, physically and spiritually. At first, the beautiful form of the body attracts us. But then it becomes the beauty of their souls, if love is more than lust or illusion.

Love inspires us, Plato is stressing, to give birth to new things. For most of us, this means physical offspring, who will perpetuate our name and memory.

But love can move people to beautiful speeches, beautiful works of art, even beautiful laws to govern cities. The philosopher, we are told, ultimately seeks Beauty itself, an unchanging eternal reality in which all earthly, beautiful things only imperfectly participate.

Sexual desire

This is hardly highly erotic material, in any ordinary sense. And yet, when the drunken Alcibiades comes bursting in to interrupt Socrates, accompanied by flute girls and a band of revellers, sexual desire is brought back into the frame.

A bust of a bearded man. — Plato, copy of a portrait made by Silanion circa 370 BC.

Alcibiades, who has lived a life of popular adulation and sexual promiscuity, launches into a speech describing his attempts to seduce Socrates, the ugly, old philosopher. For Socrates is the only man or woman who has ever said “no” to his advances, even, once, when Alcibiades was sleeping right beside him.

This knock back drives Alcibiades crazy. And yet, it impresses him. Socrates is ugly on the outside, he says. Yet, inside his soul, for those who love him, there are secret treasures, (agalmata in the Greek). And he would do anything to possess such hidden beauties.

This is a text rich in images, comedy, and deep insights into the human experience. Yes, Plato’s characters accept the norms of that time surrounding homosexual love. The opening speech, by Phaedrus (a character who comes up in another dialogue on love), celebrates the power of such love, for instance in armies, wherein men will fight more vigorously to protect their beloved. (In Greek culture, the manly Achilles’ love for Patrocles, which is such a theme in Homer’s Iliad, was considered exemplary.)

The second speaker, the rather sleazy Pausanius, makes a case more directly for the nobility of sexual love affairs between older men and young, beautiful adolescent males. In what is arguably special pleading, Pausanius tells the group that

the older man brings to the match his wisdom and his virtue, while the younger nobly seeks to acquire these with a view to his better education.

We don’t need to be convinced. But this is the second speech of seven, and hardly Plato’s final word on love. As shown by the dialogue of Phaedrus, Plato is clearly interested in the elevating capacities of romantic love: the ways that, whether same-sex or heterosexual, it can inspire and elevate people.

In such a view, notably, he is something of an exception among the ancient philosophers, most of whom are decidedly more suspicious about the tendency of romantic love to get people to lose their heads.

For Plato, when human beings fall in love, they can be moved outside of their own egoism, if only to serve their beloved, and then the children the union can bring.

The connection of even sexual love with our responsiveness to beauty shows for Platonists that we are not just animals, without a spiritual dimension. Even the lowliest person is still moved by beauty, and can be inspired by its pursuit to improve themselves.

A different moral message

The big message of the dialogue then is not lasciviousness. When Socrates knocks back Alcibiades’ attempt to seduce him physically, he tells him he would nevertheless be happy to meet with him, to continue discussing virtue and how he can become a better person.

Alcibiades has no interest in this, instead turning from trying to conquer Socrates to trying to conquer the known world. As some readers will know, he soon enough defects to Sparta, seduces its queen and betrays his home city, before defecting to Persia, as related by Thucydides and Xenophon.

If moralists want to find a message in The Symposium, it might be this. The person who can conceive no greater love than them self and their own beauty, is no friend to ordinary standards of civics, or, indeed, good and evil.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

October 12, 2024May 10, 2026

Shakespeare’s Obsession With Queer Desire

William Shakespeare Memorial Statue at Westminster Abbey in London, England.

By Will Tosh

Where should we look for an LGBTQ+ icon from the Elizabethan age? How about the playwright Christopher Marlowe, a dissident who scorned those “that love not tobacco and boys” and wrote a historical tragedy about England’s queer king Edward II? Or have you heard of Moll Frith, the gender-nonconforming cutpurse and entertainer who was so famous that their story was told on the public stage in The Roaring Girl (1611)? Both are indisputable queer stars of the period. But let’s not overlook the era’s presiding genius. If we want to find the greatest Elizabethan artist of same-sex feeling we need to head straight to the top of the pile: my standout queer hero is William Shakespeare.

Such a statement merits some historical qualification about terminology (“queer” is of course a modern umbrella term for the broad spectrum of same-sex desires), and you might now be expecting firm evidence of his—and in effect his characters’—queerness. But looking for the equivalent of a smoking gun in arguments about Shakespeare’s sexuality is a hollow pursuit. This wasn’t a time of cut-and-dried sexual identities.

But that doesn’t mean queer desire is a modern invention. For too long, debates about the erotic lives (and erotic imaginations) of esteemed historical figures have been conducted in the manner of a prosecution: great men and women are always straight until proven gay—and that proof had better sweep aside any reasonable doubt.

But we’ve grown out of criminal prosecution of queer desire in our own time, and as we shed some of the chilly inheritances of 18^th and 19^th century attitudes to sex and gender, we might be surprised by what we find in the more distant past. While early modern England was certainly no queer utopia, Shakespeare’s culture and society made much more space for the articulation of same-sex desire than we might expect.

English law constrained people’s sex lives in complex ways. The Buggery Act of 1533 outlawed “the detestable and abominable vice of buggery committed with mankind or beast,” but also laid down stringent evidentiary requirements for prosecution: the full act had to be independently witnessed for the actor or their partner to be convicted in court. The number of people successfully prosecuted for consensual sodomy in Shakespeare’s lifetime was, therefore, vanishingly small. Barely anyone was labelled a “sodomite” by law during Queen Elizabeth I’s reign. And nothing else on the queer sexual menu fell under that statute—all other forms of illicit erotic coupling, from kissing to non-penetrative sex, were transgressive by religion and custom, but not law.

While the Church of England was aggressively hostile to queer sexuality of all kinds, the actual instruments of religious doctrine—the ecclesiastical magistracy, also known as the ‘Bawdy Courts’—were mostly overburdened with dealing with the consequences of straight fornication. Very few men or women found themselves facing the parish courts charged with same-sex misconduct, for all that preachers in the pulpit liked to thunder against “the use that nature abhorreth.”

It was in this vacuum of surveillance and punishment that Shakespeare wrote some of his most stirringly homoerotic work. His same-sex love sonnets (first published in 1609) were a radical queering of the form, an innovation that Shakespeare borrowed from his contemporary Richard Barnfield, whose own homoerotic collection appeared in 1595. Shakespeare’s narrator explores his passionate, compulsive desire for a “lovely boy” across 126 poems. If there’s a characteristic mood to Shakespeare’s dozens of queer sonnets, it’s yearning. The speaker’s desire is erotic, chivalric, metaphysical, semi-religious, self-abasing, teasing and sometimes joltingly coarse: in Sonnet 20 Shakespeare jokes that the boy’s penis serves the same purpose as a woman’s vagina, a sexual part designed to entice and excite other men.

Shakespeare investigated the broad range of homoerotic affect in his plays. Male same-sex relations existed on a scale that stretched from the civic-minded platonic friendship of men of affairs such as Brutus and Cassius (Julius Caesar) to something altogether, well, hornier in nature. In Twelfth Night Shakespeare depicted an intensely eroticised queer relationship between Sebastian (twin brother to shipwrecked Viola) and the sea-captain Antonio. The two men experience a whirlwind romance that engenders a “desire, / More sharp than filed steel” between the grizzled sea-dog and the epicene youngster. And despite his society’s suspicion of female sexuality, Shakespeare understood that women harboured queer desire that was just as powerful as men’s. In The Two Noble Kinsmen (co-written with John Fletcher) the heroine Emilia recalls her devotion to a long-dead female lover. As she admits, the passion in “true love [be]tween maid and maid may be / More than in sex dividual” (i.e., between the two sexes).

Classical influence was never far away. Shakespeare’s first published work, the erotic poem Venus and Adonis, drew its story from Ovid’s Metamorphoses, a treasure trove of polymorphous desire and kink sexuality. Shakespeare rewrote Ovid’s brief account of the young huntsman’s resistance to the Goddess of Love into a thousand line mini-epic that invited his mostly-male readership to imagine themselves in the role of Venus the rough seducer, compelling the limpidly pretty Adonis to give in to her desires (a fantasy that also gave heteroerotic pleasure to female readers).

Homoerotic material was easy to find in the bookstalls, but the real center of queer culture in Shakespeare’s London was the playhouse. The all-male stage was a recognized site of transgressive eroticism. For some observers this was a catastrophe: the anti-theatrical campaigner William Prynne, writing some years after Shakespeare’s death, castigated “men’s putting on of women’s apparel” as a “preparative” to the “most abominable, unnatural sin of Sodom.” But the majority of theatregoers either thought otherwise, or didn’t mind. Boy actors, like actresses of the Restoration stage, attracted devoted followers and sexualised attention from men that must often have been unwelcome.

Dramatists willingly exploited the homoerotic energies of the early modern theatre. The playwright John Lyly was probably the first to leverage the queer theatricality of the boy-playing-a-girl-disguised-as-a-boy trope, in which the real body of the young male actor was incorporated into the romantic narrative on stage. Shakespeare learned from Lyly: his disguised heroines (in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, The Merchant of Venice, As You Like It, Twelfth Night and Cymbeline) all have moments when they reflect on the erotic confusion caused by their layered performance of gender.

Perhaps because of such storylines, the early modern playhouse acquired a reputation as a site of gender nonconformity for performers and audience members alike. In 1617 a satirist claimed to be horrified at the sight of “a woman of the masculine gender” taking a seat in the Blackfriars; the debates that erupted in the early seventeenth century about the behaviour of allegedly masculine women and effeminate men on the streets of London identified the theatre as a contributing factor to these social transgressions.

Ultimately, whether or not Shakespeare would have described himself as gay, straight, bi, or any other modern sexual identity isn’t really the point (and is, in any case, a redundant speculation: he didn’t have access to those terms). More compelling is the realization that Shakespeare was artistically obsessed with queer desire, imbuing his plays and poems with a homoerotic dynamic that clearly found a gratified audience.

Some Shakespeare fans today will resist the urge to draw an association between the feelings in his work, and the feelings the man harbored in his own soul (and it is true that he was not, as far as we know, afflicted with murderous desire for the crown of Scotland, for instance). But it’s exciting to think about the possibility—the likelihood—that Shakespeare’s queer interest arose out of queer emotion—that his queer art was born from a queer artistic self.

It’s time to make space for Shakespeare in the queer chorus line of history, a cast we’re still populating as scholars and biographers look back at past lives and ask fresh questions about the way our ancestors understood desire, sexuality and identity. Old dead gays won’t have looked or sounded precisely like the gloriously rich range of people in the LGBTQIA+ communities today, but our shared histories of queer feeling trace a powerful line back into the past. And looking back, we find Shakespeare.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

October 3, 2024May 10, 2026

Your pride, your power

— The essential LGBTQ voter guide for 2024

Navigate the complex landscape of LGBTQ politics with Reckon’s roadmap to what’s really at stake for queer and trans Americans in this election.

By Denny

What’s the issue? Break it down.

In recent years, we have seen the rights of LGBTQ Americans nationwide used as political pawns. During the presidential election year in 2020, anti-trans legislation reached an all-time high with 118 anti-trans bills. In 2024, the number of bills introduced has skyrocketed more than five-fold, with 658 bills aiming to restrict bodily autonomy, healthcare access, sports participation, and attempts to erase the public existence of the LGBTQ community. Trans youth are the primary target.

Simultaneously, persistent misinformation about gender-affirming care from anti-trans conservatives has emboldened hostile rhetoric surrounding the community. As a result, 45 anti-trans bills across the country have passed into law, affecting 16 states. As we approach the 2024 election, the fight for LGBTQ liberation remains crucial—perhaps more urgent than ever before.

Why does it matter? What’s at stake?

As a direct result of rising anti-trans rhetoric, major cities have seen a record high in hate crimes, according to the 2023 “Report to the Nation” by Brian Levin, who found that three of the five demographics experiencing increased hate violence were from the LGBTQ community. This underscores the widespread impact of anti-LGBTQ sentiment, affecting all communities regardless of political affiliation.

Although trans youth are targeted in legislation, this year alone has seen violent incidents that resulted in trans and nonbinary teens dying, including Nex Benedict from Oklahoma and Pauly A. Likens from Pennsylvania. Additionally, mental health issues for young LGBTQ people continue to worsen as anti-LGBTQ laws increase. Voting in favor of pro-LGBTQ policies and ensuring pro-LGBTQ politicians win their seats then can mitigate the rampant attack on trans youth, and potentially proactively turn the tides for the better.

Current status

The numerous anti-trans bills and laws across various states have caught the attention of many in the community. In anticipation of the 2024 election, the Supreme Court has agreed to hear a case brought on by the ACLU, challenging Tennessee’s Senate Bill 1, enacted in July 2023 under Gov. Bill Lee. This law bans gender-affirming care for trans minors in Tennessee. Government officials defending the law argue that gender-affirming care is not only harmful and unnecessary, but also that trans people are not protected under the Constitution.

This case is significant because how the Court interprets transgender rights under the Constitution can set a major precedent for LGBTQ protections moving forward.

Where do the presidential candidates stand on this issue?

Democratic Party:

Kamala Harris: Harris, who currently serves as Vice President, supported gay marriage over a decade before it was federally legalized. She also helped her home state of California become the first state to ban the “gay and trans panic” defense law in 2014, and introduced a bill to prohibit the practice at the national level. Her policies on sex work and incarceration as attorney general have been criticized by the trans community, particularly an instance when she was against allowing incarcerated trans people to transition.
As Vice President, she has shown increased support for LGBTQ rights, hosting Pride events at the White House. Her running mate Tim Walz, governor of Minnesota, shows a history of pro-LGBTQ advocacy spanning over two decades.

Republican Party:

Donald J. Trump: As the 45th president, Trump initiated a concerted effort to remove protections for LGBTQ people. In 2018, his administration attempted to define “sex” in federal civil rights laws to eliminate non-discrimination protections for trans people. Trump sought to “define ‘transgender’ out of existence,” erode protections for transgender students and workers, and weaken access to gender-affirming health care—which we now see as a prominent debate topic amongst nominees.
In his current campaign, Trump has announced plans to severely restrict queer, trans and nonbinary rights if he wins a second term. His plan “Agenda 47” aligns closely to anti-trans bills becoming law this year. His running mate J.D. Vance has actively spread misinformation about gender-affirming care.

Independent, Green, Libertarian or Third-Party:

Robert F. Kennedy Jr. (Independent): Kennedy Jr. suspended his campaign and endorsed Trump on Aug. 23.

Kennedy lacks concrete opinions regarding trans rights—at least not the ones that are often debated over. He faced criticism early on for accepting an invitation to speak at a summit hosted by Moms for Liberty—an anti-trans extremist group, according to civil rights watchdogs, rallying school curricula, sports participation and bathroom usage. Kennedy backed out of the event, while reaffirming his support for gay marriage.
He has also been wary of supporting hormone replacement therapies (HRT) for trans youth, questioning its practices and long term effects. Comparing it to driving, voting, joining the army, even getting a tattoo, Kennedy is hesitant to support underage access to gender-affirming care “because we know that children do not fully understand the consequences of decisions with life-long ramifications,” he said on X. He has stressed the importance of showing the trans community support as they “shouldn’t ever be shamed.”

Cornel West (Independent): Known for longstanding racial justice activism, West has spent his career advocating for marginalized people to have equitable access to democratic institutions and social spaces. But his looming uncertainty over trans athletes’ participation in sports casts a shadow in understanding just how pro-LGBTQ he is. During Pres. Obama’s reelection campaign in 2012, West criticized Obama’s usage of gay marriage above other issues, though clarified his support for it two years later.

In an interview last year with Fox News, West expressed empathy for trans people and their vulnerability when asked about sports participation. The following month in an interview on “The Karen West Show,” West seemed to have backtracked, proposing a third gender category for trans athletes for “fairness.” Regarding bathroom usage, discrimination policies and anti-LGBTQ school curricula, West has no concrete proposed policies surrounding transgender rights.

Jill Stein (Green Party): Stein is known for protesting at coal plants and testifying before legislative bodies about environmental concerns. According to iSideWith, another voting guide system, voters of Stein would support gender-affirming care for minors under the condition that they are non-surgical—though she herself has not made any direct statements about her stance on trans healthcare.

It is worth nothing, however, that Stein has an up-to-date understanding of what is at stake for the trans, nonbinary and gender-nonconforming community given that this Trans Day of Visibility, she took it to X to express her awareness of the current climate, escalating political and physical violence surrounding trans issues. She mentioned having a “longstanding” record of affirming trans rights, and promises to implement federal protections for all LGBTQ people nationwide.

Chase Oliver (Libertarian): A former Democrat, Oliver is a 39-year-old gay candidate who is pro-gun, anti-cop, pro-choice. He self-describes himself as Georgia’s first LGBTQ candidate who is “armed and gay.” Oliver himself was the person behind his high school’s inaugural Gay Straight Alliance (GSA).

In a tense interview with Reason TV in May, he strongly argues that gender-affirming care is valid and should stay private between the minor, their parent, and the doctor. Oliver has defended the artistry of drag performance against those labeling it as harmful to children.

Key bills to know

CALIFORNIA

Assembly Constitutional Amendment (ACA) No. 5 (Proposition 3): Under Proposition 8, the California Constitution defines marriage as between a man and a woman in the state, which eliminates the rights of same-sex couples to marry.
- A yes vote = removes the ban on same-sex marriage from the California Constitution and declares the right to marry as a fundamental right for all couples, regardless of gender.
- A no vote = keeps the current language defining marriage as between a man and a woman in the state constitution and maintains a constitutional conflict with federal law, which recognizes same-sex marriage

COLORADO

SCR24-003: The Colorado constitution states that a marriage is valid only if it is between one man and one woman. That provision has been unenforceable since the U.S. Supreme Court decision in Obergefell v. Hodges in 2015. The Constitutional Same-Sex Marriage Ban Amendment repeals the provision in Colorado.
- A yes vote = Removes the phrase “only a union of one man and one woman shall be valid or recognized as a marriage in this state” from the Colorado Constitution. Aligns the state constitution with current federal law and practice.
- A no vote = Keeps the outdated, unenforceable language in the state constitution and maintains a symbolic barrier to marriage equality in Colorado.

HAWAII

House Bill 2802: The Hawaii Remove Legislature Authority to Limit Marriage to Opposite-Sex Couples Amendment proposes a constitutional amendment to repeal the Legislature’s authority to limit marriage to opposite-sex couples.
- A yes vote = Removes the phrase “the legislature shall have the power to reserve marriage to opposite-sex couples,” from Hawaii’s constitution.
- A no vote = Keeps the current recognition that a marriage under the constitution is limited to straight couples.

NEW YORK

Proposal 1: This proposal amends Article 1, Section 11 of the Equal Rights Amendment. Section 11 now protects against unequal treatment based on race, color, creed, and religion. Proposal 1 seeks protection against unequal treatment based on ethnicity, national origin, age, disability, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression, pregnancy, and pregnancy outcomes, abortion, as well as reproductive healthcare and autonomy.
- A yes vote = protection against unequal treatment based on ethnicity, national origin, age, disability, sex, sexual orientation, gender identity, gender expression, pregnancy, and pregnancy outcomes.
- A no vote = keeps the lack of protections in instances of discrimination based on identity in the state.

SOUTH DAKOTA

Senate Joint Resolution 505: This amendment was designed to remove gender-specific language in the state constitution and replace it with gender-neutral language. Specifically, the measure was designed to replace male pronouns with gender-neutral terms or the titles of offices referenced.
- A yes vote = amending the text of the South Dakota Constitution to change male pronouns to gender-neutral terms or titles.
- A no vote = keeps the state constitution pronouns to only “he/him,” when referring to the state constituents.

Notable races of LGBTQ candidates in swing states

ARIZONA

Lorena Austin is running for reelection to the State House in Legislative District 9, a frontline district to protect the Arizona Democratic Legislative Campaign Committee (DLCC), which seeks to elect Democrats to the state House and Senate.
- Running for the House are Oscar de los Santos, Patricia Contreras, and Brian Garcia.
Notable statewide candidate:
- Josh Polacheck (Democrat) for Arizona Corporation Commissioner.

MICHIGAN

Kyle Wright is running for a House seat in one of the most competitive districts in the state, against James DeSana, a MAGA extremist with strong anti-trans stances. Wright would be the youngest state representative in Michigan.

NEVADA

In order to maintain a pro-equality supermajority in the Nevada Assembly, all eyes are on Assembly District 4 where gay candidate Ryan Hampton is working tirelessly to flip this open seat.
Assemblywoman Cecilia Gonzalez is running for reelection.

NORTH CAROLINA

Lisa Grafstein is the sole LGBTQ voice in the State Senate and in a newly drawn 50/50 seat. With the gubernatorial election likely favoring the Democratic Party, ensuring there is not a GOP supermajority would be key to preventing further anti-LGBTQ legislation.

PENNSYLVANIA

Notable statewide candidate:
- Malcolm Kenyatta (Democrat) for Pennsylvania State Auditor. Kenyatta would be the first out LGBTQ+ statewide official in Pennsylvania.

WISCONSIN

Wisconsin State Assembly: Wisconsin might elect its largest-ever bloc of LGBTQ State Assembly members, who will be a crucial part of the state’s legislative branch in charge of making and passing laws.
- Ryan Spaude is running in what is likely the most competitive district in Wisconsin, with the Democratic party leading by one point in the Partisan Voting Index (PVI), according to the LGBTQ+ Victory Fund.
Kristin Alfheim’s Senator campaign is a crucial win that Democrats need in order for control of the state Senate. She is facing an opponent in the general election who has strong anti-LGBTQ stances.
Notable statewide candidate:
- Tammy Baldwin (Democrat) for Wisconsin U.S. Senator. Baldwin made history in 2012 as the first out LGBTQ member elected to the U.S. Senate, and was re-elected for her second term in 2018.

Key Points for Voters

What to Consider When Voting
- Representation matters to an extent: LGBTQ representation matters, but it’s not everything. Research candidates thoroughly, regardless of their identity. Focus on track records, policies and visions that align with LGBTQ rights and your values.
- Prioritize intersectionality: Consider how LGBTQ issues intersect with other social justice movements. Look for candidates who understand and advocate for reproductive rights, immigrants’ rights, racial equality, economic equity, environmental protection. Support candidates who recognize the interconnectedness of identity and systemic issues.
- Keep your politicians accountable: Voting is just the beginning of political engagement. After elections, monitor your representatives’ actions and votes, communicate regularly with their offices, and collaborate with advocacy groups to ensure promises are kept. Remember: Your role as a constituent continues beyond Election Day.
- Engage in local activism: Don’t wait for national elections to make a difference. You can create change in your community by joining or starting local LGBTQ organizations, attending city council meetings, volunteering for local causes and organizing community events to raise awareness. Stay informed and educate others and challenge misinformation about LGBTQ issues when you encounter it.

Resources and Further Reading

Where to Learn More
- Equality PAC: The political arm of the Congressional Equality Caucus, Equality PAC is dedicated to the full legal and societal equality for LGBTQ Americans where all funds raised are spent supporting and electing openly LGBTQ individuals and strong LGBTQ allies to the United States Congress who are committed to full civil rights and protections for all LGBTQ Americans.
- Gender Liberation Movement March: Washington, D.C. march, protest and festival for gender-affirming care, abortions rights and democracy on Sept. 14
- LGBTQ+ Rights Voter Guide on Who to Vote For: Keep tabs of which LGBTQ or LGBTQ-ally candidates are running in your state for some of the crucial seats in this upcoming election, and what and who they are up against.
- LGBTQ+ Victory Fund: The only national organization devoted to electing pro-equality, pro-choice LGBTQ+ leaders to public office at every level—from local school boards, to city council, and even a seat in Congress.
- “Plugged In”: WABE, the NPR and PBS affiliate for the Metro Atlanta Area, their podcast “Plugged In” explores LGBTQ life in Georgia, wherein this episode dives into what is at stake for queer, trans and nonbinary Georgians, and how LGBTQ voters could shape the upcoming presidential election.
- ACLU Tennessee: “U.S. Supreme Court Will Hear Challenge from United States, Families, and Doctors Against Transgender Health Care Ban”
- GLAAD: “GLAAD’s Voter Poll Indicates Anti-Trans Campaigning is Failing.” 94% of LGBTQ Americans Are Motivated To Vote; 72% Report Negative Impact of Political Discourse on Mental Health and Emotional Well-Being
Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

September 30, 2024May 13, 2026

How sex cemented (and stigmatized) the gay community

— The history of discrimination and persecution against the LGBTQ+ community led many people to seek safe meeting spaces

A march for LGBTQ+ rights in New York City in 1994, commemorating the 25th anniversary of the Stonewall riots.

By Álex Maroño Porto

Nico is a 30-year-old American who moved to Pamplona, in the north of Spain, to study. During his interview with EL PAÍS, he prefers that his real name not be revealed. For Nico, sex and romantic love don’t necessarily go hand-in-hand. After coming out in 2019, he gradually adopted a prosexual vision that largely involves relationships between queer men — those whose gender identities or sexual orientation differ from the norm.

“Sex isn’t just what we’ve been protecting for centuries through religious and cultural norms, as something meant only for procreation,” he explains over the phone. “Sex isn’t something that should be set aside when we talk about queerness: it’s something central to us.”

Heterosexual culture has been marked by monogamy as almost the only acceptable relationship model. But LGBTQ+ peoples have had more freedom when it comes to exploring their emotional bonds. For queer men, sex has been able to serve as a catalyst for community formation. It’s a practice that — due to its visibility and its break with the established order — has been the object of intense social persecution, even today. In the United States, for example, four states prohibited sexual relations between people of the same sex until 2003, under the so-called “sodomy laws.” And, just two years ago, Iran publicly executed two men for engaging in a sexual relationship with each other.

Among queer men, the meaning of sex goes beyond the time spent with another person — or other people — in a bed. Or in the bathrooms of a nightclub. Or even outdoors. The importance of sex for the community has a clear historical trajectory. One of the reasons was the repression of homosexuality, says Gabriel J. Martín, a psychologist and author of several books on LGBTQ+ topics. When queer spaces didn’t exist due to institutional criminalization, sex with strangers became a safe way to satisfy desire.

“It was preferable that these were anonymous encounters, because — as it was prohibited — if the other person was arrested, at no time could they give you up [to the authorities], because they didn’t know who you were,” Martín writes to EL PAÍS via WhatsApp.

In the 1970s, with the emergence of the Gay Liberation Movement, sex laid the foundation for the nascent queer community. Men began to build what would become a social movement forged, in part, through sexual relations.

Philip Hammack is a professor of psychology at the University of California. During a phone conversation with EL PAÍS, he explains that the growing number of queer spaces — especially after the Stonewall riots in 1969, in the Greenwich Village neighborhood of New York City — was essential. “All that furtive sex that happened in bathrooms and in hidden spaces could be integrated into real institutions: gay bars, saunas and sex clubs,” Hammack notes. He’s the co-editor of The Story of Sexual Identity: Narrative Perspectives on the Gay and Lesbian Life Course (2009).

The HIV epidemic put an end to these prosexual attitudes. While the importance of sex between queer men never disappeared, the social openness of the 1970s was replaced by the rejection of the prosexual vision that characterized that era. “Sex became linked to disease,” says Michael Bronski, a professor at Harvard University and author of A Queer History of the United States (2011). “We spent years trying to figure out how to avoid that and how to separate it completely in our imagination.”

Hammock recalls how, in the 15 years from the first cases in 1981 to the approval of antiretroviral treatments, a positive diagnosis meant — in large part — a condemnation. Although condoms and non-penetrative sex greatly reduced the chances of infection, moralistic discourse prevailed: sex and promiscuity took on a sordid meaning. You could try to be gay, but only within the margins of heteronormative respectability.

Pre-exposure prophylaxis — known as PrEP — changed everything. The World Health Organization began recommending its use in mid-2014. This treatment, adopted in countries such as the United States and Spain in recent years, prevents HIV infection by 99%. This success has brought non-normative sexual relations back to the center of the LGBTQ+ conversation. Thanks to this extra barrier of protection, queer men “can finally fulfill their desires free from the anxiety of possible death,” Hammack concludes. Sex has recovered its historical place as a relational tool, causing a cultural revolution that has socially legitimized sexual practices beyond the traditional relational model of monogamy.

Gay liberation movement — Two members of the Gay Liberation Movement in New York in 1970.

Excluded from the institution of marriage until recently, LGBTQ+ people have explored sexual relationships more freely than their straight counterparts. This is especially the case with women, Bronski says. And these non-monogamous ways of relating are more present in mainstream conversation than ever before. A 2021 study by Chapman University and the Kinsey Institute found that people who identify as gay or bisexual have practiced consensual non-monogamy more frequently than heterosexuals.

According to Christopher Stults, a professor at Baruch College, open relationships are, in some cases, the metropolitan queer standard… at least in large American cities. Eric Anderson, a professor at the University of Winchester and author of The Monogamy Gap (2011), believes that the monogamous ideal still marks LGBTQ+ relationships, although it’s an unsustainable utopia in the long term. “Men have more sexual desire than women; they always want more sexual partners,” he explains over the phone. In a two-man couple, he emphasizes, time leads to non-monogamous patterns, even if “they never acknowledge that they’re in an open relationship because of the stigma.”

In any case, relationships between gay men don’t seem to be marked by the search for sex with others. According to a study published in 2018 in the scientific journal Archives of Sexual Behavior, 45.3% of queer men who were in a relationship were in a monogamous relationship. Tyrel Starks, a professor of psychology at Hunter College and co-author of the study, says that replacing the monogamous sexual standard with a single alternative reduces the diversity of relational patterns among queer men.

“If we declare that monogamy belongs to heterosexuals, in a way, we’re accepting a rather homophobic narrative,” he tells EL PAÍS over the phone. For some queer men, the importance of sex lies in forging community with others or satisfying a sexual appetite, while for others, it’s a way to be intimate with a single partner. Any “rigid normative structure” regarding queer sex “is potentially problematic.”

The sexual openness that characterizes queer men implies accepting diversity in the multiple meanings of sex… so long as one’s own terms are clear. “We will continue to explore the possibilities that feelings and sexual desire offer us,” Martín adds. “We’re the advance guard; whatever is happening with [LGBTQ+ people] right now in relation to sexuality will happen with the heterosexual population in two decades.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

September 27, 2024May 10, 2026

‘Gender Queer’

— Incident inspires film ‘A Book By Their Cover’

Scenes from the movie “A Book By Their Cover” which was filmed in Berkshire County.

“[Young people] need to have visibility, and they don’t need to learn about things covertly with shame,” said filmmaker John Tedeschi. “They should be given the same awkward chance of learning about sex, sexuality, sex education, and biology.”

By Shaw Israel Izikson

Inspired by controversial local events, Stockbridge filmmaker John Tedeschi has created the film “A Book By Their Cover.” In an interview with The Berkshire Edge, first-time screenwriter and movie director Tedeschi said that the movie is partially inspired by the controversy surrounding the Great Barrington Police Department’s investigation of a W.E.B. Du Bois Regional Middle School teacher over the book “Gender Queer.”

As of late September, the now-former teacher’s lawsuit over the incident continues to go through the court system. Tedeschi said that while the movie was partially inspired by the incident, other events around the country also influenced the film, including book bans connected to the Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, Transgender, and Queer (LGBTQ+) community.

“When I was listening to the meeting at the middle school that was held regarding the book, I felt that there is a need for that book to be available to some people, as long as it is age appropriate,” Tedeschi said.

The movie centers around 12-year-old Samantha, played by actress Eva Ferreira, who discovers a book while staying at her grandparent’s house. “She discovers a book on the bookshelf of their house, and it sort of piqued her curiosity,” Tedeschi said. “It’s a medical book. From that book, she starts to realize and learn things about herself. She thinks that she needs to read the book privately or covertly. As everyone in the house goes to bed, in the middle of the night Smantha comes down the stairs and reads the book.”

Tedeschi said that the medical book she reads was written in 1962. “She goes to the pages that say ‘homosexual’ on them,” Tedeschi said. “She is a little bit dismayed, confused, and scared. Samantha goes to school the next day, and the stress is aggravating and upsetting her. We see her go into the school bathroom, and she’s very frustrated and alone.”

Actress Eva Ferreira stars as 12-year-old Samantha.

Tedeschi explained that Samantha goes home to her parents and asks them questions. “Her parents don’t know all of the answers, but they are very supportive,” Tedeschi said. “They decide to get a book to help her.” Samantha’s parents give her the book “The Every Body Book: The LGBTQ+ Inclusive Guide for Kids about Sex, Gender, Bodies, and Families,” written in 2020 by Rachel Simon and illustrated by Noah Grigni.

Tedeschi said that trouble arises when Samantha takes the book to school. “During the school day, someone sees the book who doesn’t like it,” Tedeschi said. “That person [the school janitor] takes the book, confiscates it, and brings it to the principal. The principal brings the book to the superintendent, and in turn, the superintendent calls the police.”

Film director and writer John Tedeschi plays the character of “Carl Stallings,” a school janitor, who finds Samantha’s copy of “The Every Body Book” during a school day and confiscates it.

The movie then flashes forward to a town meeting during which various opinions are voiced about the book and the investigation.

The town meeting scene in “A Book By Their Cover.”

“But the book is eventually given back to Samantha,” Tedeschi said. “She is a bit shaken, but she feels that she can move forward, figure things out, and then start to feel better in time.”

When asked what he hopes audiences will get out of the film, Tedeschi said, “I hope people realize that resources are needed and are important for young people to feel that they are equal and visible.”

“[Young people] need to have visibility, and they don’t need to learn about things covertly with shame,” Tedeschi said. “They should be given the same awkward chance of learning about sex, sexuality, sex education, and biology. Children sometimes ask their parents how babies are made, and there’s this quick answer. But there’s not always the answer of adoption, or that there are other types of families out there. I feel like we need to be a little bit more updated and knowledgeable about the spectrum of various families and information.”

The film was filmed in Berkshire County. “We filmed a lot of it in Stockbridge,” Tedeschi said. “We were also able to use a middle school in Otis for some scenes.”

Tedeschi said that he is entering “A Book By Their Cover” in various festivals, and that the film will soon be available to watch on the Community Television of South Berkshires public access cable channel.

In an email to The Berkshire Edge after the interview, Tedeschi clarified:

… [T]he film is not a true story, it is not a film that uses the words ‘based on true or actual events’, and the characters are not intended to appear as any actual person. The film was inspired by many things, it is a mirror, as you said, of events but it is not the actual likeness.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

September 22, 2024May 10, 2026

Labeling Instructions

— Why the Rise of Sexual, Romantic and Gender Identities is a Good Thing

Young people are claiming a host of sexual, romantic and gender identities, and these brave new words can provide us with some important answers about who we are.

By Gabrielle Bauer

Do you know what aroace means? Greyromantic? Or cupiosexual? When the boomer generation was growing up, they had three common labels to choose from: straight, gay and bisexual. As the 1990s drew to a close, transgender people began seeking shelter under the same umbrella, and the LGBT acronym was born.

Life never stands still. Today’s young people are carving out increasingly specific sexual, romantic and gender niches. They may feel no sexual attraction toward other people (asexual). They can crave sexual contact, but lack sexual attraction (cupiosexual) or the desire for a romantic connection (aromantic). Maybe they see themselves as alterous, with feelings that fall somewhere between romantic and platonic, or simply as gender-variant or nonconforming, refusing to let traditional concepts of men and women define them. In one way or another, they don’t fit society’s old shoes.

In tandem with the split between sexual and romantic attraction, sex and gender are now understood to be distinct. Transgender individuals have a strong and persistent sense their gender doesn’t match their biological sex, while the term cisgender describes people whose sex and gender align; the kaleidoscope of gender variance includes nonbinary people, who don’t see themselves as exclusively male or female. And, of course, gender-variant individuals can experience the full range of sexual and romantic orientations.

I admitted to Lucia O’Sullivan, a University of New Brunswick psychology professor in Fredericton, who specializes in sexual relationships, that I had trouble understanding the nonbinary designation. Doesn’t every human have different combinations of gender-typical and gender-variant traits? “Ah, but you still consider yourself a woman, right?” she asked me. I agreed. “That’s the difference,” she said. “It’s not a question of behaviours or traits, but of identity. Nonbinary people will tell you they don’t feel either male or female.” On the flip side, you can enjoy romantic comedies and wear nail polish, but feel very much like a man. In short, your gender expression (how you behave) doesn’t dictate your gender identity (how you feel inside).

Increasingly, people affirm and telegraph their gender identity by specifying their pronouns (such as she/her, he/him or they/them) in professional profiles, email signatures or upon meeting new people. This can get complicated for gender-fluid people, who lack a fixed sense of gender and may change pronouns in sync with their shifting identity or use gender-neutral pronouns such as they/them. Canadian actor Elliot Page, who came out as transgender and nonbinary in 2020, uses both “he” and “they,” or what are called rolling pronouns; although he presents as masculine, they identify as nonbinary, so both pronouns apply.

Gender identity has turned political in both Canada and the U.S., spawning heated opinions and divisive policies. In some parts of our country, if a child wants to change their name and pronoun, the school must inform their parents. Some people applaud these policies, while others argue children should have the right to make these choices without involving parents who may be hostile to their decision. Between the noisy polarities lies a messy middle – people doing their best to understand the social shifts and possibly struggling to keep up. To cut through the confusion, it helps to remember pronouns are simply meant to express how people feel inside.

A Generous Umbrella

All told, about nine per cent of people stand somewhere under the LGBT+ umbrella, according to a 2023 IPSOS survey of 22,500 adults in 30 countries. The Q, for queer or questioning, came along to cover people who fall outside sexual and gender norms and those still exploring their identities, with the + added for good measure. Some people use expanded acronyms like LGBTQIA2S, which includes intersex, asexual and two-spirit people, a term used by some Indigenous people to describe gender variance.

If studies are any indication, this group encompasses significantly more young people than older ones. The IPSOS survey found gen-Zers about twice as likely as millennials and four times as likely as gen-Xers and boomers to place their sexual orientation outside the heterosexual norm. Similar findings emerged in a 2022 Statistics Canada report on LGBTQ2+ people aged 15 and over, which drew on the results of a 2018 survey. Of the estimated one million people (four per cent of the population) who claimed an LGBTQ2+ identity, 58.4 per cent were under 35 and 16.5 per cent were 55 or older. Clearly, young people are defining themselves in increasingly expansive ways.

Why is this important? These young people are our children, our friends’ children, our nieces and nephews, our grandchildren and their friends. We meet them when we volunteer at an animal shelter or go to a music festival. To connect with them, we need to understand them. Just as importantly, these new labels, so foreign when they first reach our ears, can help us understand ourselves. If, for example, we felt different from our peers during adolescence but couldn’t put a finger on why, these brave new words can give us some answers.

The Great Divide

Many of us grew up conflating romantic and sexual attraction: If we had a crush on someone, it meant we lusted after them. In recent years, formal studies of asexuality have laid this presumption to rest. Dr. Anthony Bogaert, a health sciences professor at Brock University in St. Catharines, Ont., has devoted a large part of his career to researching the one per cent (more, in some studies) who call themselves asexual. He discovered that many asexuals still want intimate relationships; they crave the closeness and the romance, just not the sex.

“If you’re romantically attracted to someone, you feel a deep emotional bond to that individual and there may be some urge for physical connection, like hugging or holding hands or curling up together,” Bogaert explains, adding that “sexual and romantic attraction represent distinct processes in the brain.” Indeed, in a 2020 analysis of seven asexual studies, led by University of British Columbia, Vancouver, researchers determined 74 per cent of 4,032 subjects experienced romantic attraction. A person may also feel sexual but not romantic attraction, though Bogaert told me this combination is quite rare.

Rebecca Stuart, 39, exemplifies the self-discovery that often accompanies a mixed sexual and romantic orientation. “I waited for my big sexual awakening, which never came,” says Stuart, who lives in Guelph, Ont. She did “a bunch of work to ensure I was sex positive.” She wondered if she was a repressed lesbian. She even explored kink in hopes of finding her “thing.” While she didn’t initially identify as asexual because “my junk works,” she came to embrace the orientation as she learned more about it. Stuart, who is married, also sees herself as heteroromantic. “From high school on, I had romantic feelings toward guys.”

People who feel neither sexual nor romantic attraction sometimes shorten their label to aroace. Greysexuals and greyromantics, meanwhile, experience their respective attractions only sporadically, while demisexuals and demiromantics only feel it once they’ve established an emotional connection. These nuances remind us that, in the enigmatic realm of human attraction, diversity rules the day.

So what’s the difference between asexuality as an orientation and low sexual desire, which some experts view as a disorder? Dr. Lori Brotto, director of the Sexual Health Laboratory at UBC, offered a clarification. “Asexuals don’t report distress about their lack of attraction, and even if offered treatment to kindle desire, they’re generally not interested. It’s just who they are.” Sexual people, on the other hand, experience lack of desire as a loss they would love to reverse.

Labelling Logic

As society continues to refine concepts of sexuality, people are exploring the nuances of their attractions and creating labels to match. Pansexuals, for instance, are attracted to people without any regard for their sex or gender. Gynosexuals respond sexually to femininity in all its forms, as opposed to lesbians, who feel a pull toward people of the same sex.

Shades of grey also exist within the gender realm. People who call themselves agender don’t connect to any gender at all, an identity that differs subtly from nonbinary. Pangender individuals experience parts of many genders, while omnigender describes people who contain all genders.

With the profusion of identities described and dissected online, it’s no surprise young people seek to fine-tune their own labels. “In terms of sexuality, my preferences have never been based on the person’s body parts or looks overall,” writes one member of the Asexual Visibility and Education Network Facebook group. “If our personalities don’t sync and I don’t feel I can be my authentic self (and same you), then there’s no real relationship to start with. So how do I identify? I am a sapio-demi-ace.”

When I first encountered posts like this, some of the microlabels struck me as forced, even a little silly, but the experts I interviewed melted my skepticism. “The labels can help you find your tribe, to feel like you’re seen,” O’Sullivan explains. Her son Jack, 16, throws in a young person’s perspective. “There can be a lot of stigma to experiencing attraction or gender in a different way. Young people always worry there is something wrong with them. When they suddenly find this identity that perfectly describes how they feel, they feel very validated.”

As O’Sullivan points out, an individual who identifies as aroace but seeks a mate to build a life with, perhaps including children, may “have a hard time finding a like-minded partner in the wild.” The labels are a shorthand they can use, often online, to connect with people who share their inclinations.

Aha! moments happen to older people, too, like American comedian and Let’s Make a Deal host Wayne Brady, 52, who came out as pansexual in 2023. Even boomers like me can gain insight from the new microlabels. When I was 12, giant posters of celebrities like Donovan and Paul Newman sprang up on my friends’ bedroom walls. Who were these men? Why didn’t they stir me as they clearly stirred my friends? It’s only now, more than a half-century later, that I have the vocabulary to describe my difference. While I can respond sexually to men and women, pop stars and strangers have never done it for me; the emotional connection has to come first. That would make me both bi- and demisexual. At the same time, I have never been able to picture myself in a lesbian romance. Heteroromantic, then.

Even if the terms don’t resonate with you, O’Sullivan cautions against making light of them. “It’s important to understand that young people aren’t using the labels for attention, even if they shift over time,” she says. “They’re just giving you a snapshot of who they are right now.”

If a youth entrusts you with such personal information, Bogaert invites you to “show understanding and interest, and maybe ask some questions.” Later on, “you can do research to find out more.” Above all, remember that “claiming an identity helps transmute shame into pride” – and who wouldn’t want that for the young people we love?

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

September 18, 2024May 10, 2026

Why your “later in life” bisexual awakening is actually right on time

— Coming out as queer later in life isn’t just normal—it’s a revolutionary act of self-discovery in a world that tries to keep women’s desires hidden.

By Melissa Fabello

I spend a lot of time online, especially in spaces where identity politics take center stage. And a trend I’ve seen gaining momentum since the start of the COVID-19 pandemic is the complexity of coming out as queer “later in life.” Type “late in life lesbians” into the search bar on TikTok, and you’ll see what I mean.

As someone who’s known she was queer since childhood and has identified as such since middle school (#earlyinlife?), it brings me an enormous amount of joy to see so many women connecting with their authentic sense of desire—and making content about it! And while I’m grateful for some of the experiences I had in queer adolescence and early adulthood (and traumatized by others), I also reject the idea that there are better or worse times in the life span to come out.

Especially for bisexual women, who face an enormous amount of stigma both within and outside of the queer community, the message that coming out after your twenties is an anomaly can add more pressure to an already difficult self-development process. After all, bisexual people are already at an increased risk of negative mental health outcomes due to what’s called “minority stress” (that is, the experience of being marginalized), compared to both straight and other queer people.

As bisexual women struggle both with cisheteronormativity (the cultural pressure to be cisgender and straight) and the norming of monosexuality (attraction to one gender) in our society, they already can doubt the validity of their orientation. Add to this a complex and nuanced relationship with compulsory heterosexuality (the patriarchal lie that marginalized genders must depend on cis men for access to power and resources), and we have a self-concept disaster waiting to happen.

According to a 2013 survey conducted by Pew Research Center, while the majority of LGBT adults (59%) report knowing they were queer in puberty and adolescence, a full 28% say they didn’t know until their twenties or later. And this latter experience is most highly reported by bisexuals (15%, as compared to 14% of lesbians and 3% of gay men).

But why? Why are women – and especially bisexual women – more likely to come out “later in life?” Well, not to put too fine a point on it, but the answer is cisheteropatriarchy (the combined influence of oppression against trans people, queer people, and gender minorities).

Women’s sexual development is different

Historically, when it comes to research, scientists have looked at how cis men operate – and then compare everyone else to that supposed baseline. Just look at how it took until recently for medicine to catch up with the fact that women experience heart attack symptoms differently! Unfortunately, but perhaps unsurprisingly, gendered sexuality research is no different.

Sexual development is just one area in which we’ve made the mistake of seeing cis men as the norm.

On average, cisgender men tend to experience their sexual peak in adolescence and early adulthood – that is, through their twenties. This is when they are the most desirous of sex and confident about their sexuality. After this, sperm count tends to lower, issues like erectile dysfunction start to arise, and sexual insecurity can creep in.

Cisgender women, on the other hand, generally report an increase in sexual self-knowledge, confidence, and desire as they age into mid-life. While physiological issues with sexuality also come up for women as they get older (they literally refer to pregnancy after 35 as “geriatric,” y’all), women’s psychological experience with sexuality only improves.

One study found that by their thirties, women feel like they have the experience to be sexually confident, especially as they shed insecurities about their bodies. When are women most sexually insecure? At 25.

As women age, we tend to shed the patriarchal socialization that has plagued us our entire lives. We become more comfortable in our bodies, more knowledgeable and vocal about what brings us sexual pleasure, and more curious about our erotic authenticity: “What do we want?” becomes an important mental refrain.

That this is the point in sexual development that many women come into their queerness – a desire pushed down by cisheteropatriarchal socialization – is no surprise. At the exact moment that women, regardless of orientation, are coming into their own sexually, queer identity questions can also pop up.

Queer identity development is its own thing

For my Masters degree in Human Sexuality Education, I had to take a course dedicated to psychological and sociological development across the lifespan. How this class was (brilliantly) taught is that week to week, we would add a theory to a physical representation of the lifespan set up in our classroom. “Oh, Erikson says that from 12-18, people struggle with themes of identity and confusion? Add that to the ‘adolescence’ column!”

There are countless theories on how our minds develop over time. And the question of queer identity has its own subset of developmental theories (here are just a few). For instance, D’Augelli that queer people go through several processes in order to come into their own; the first three are shedding straight identity, developing personal queer identity, and exploring their identity in social contexts.

Guess what—straight people don’t have to do!

Similar to how we can’t look at cisgender men and assume other genders have the same experiences, we can’t assume that queer people come into their sexual identity at the same time as straight people.

Straight people have very few obstacles to developing sexual identity. This is a simple fact of straight privilege. When institutions, media, and our families of origin normalize and celebrate heterosexuality, it’s relatively easy for straight people to see themselves represented and understand something intrinsic about themselves, even if it takes time to learn the language for it.

Queer identity development takes a different route – especially because so many queer people assume that they must, too, be cis and straight within the context of cisheteronormativity. Many queer and trans people, myself included, start off believing they must fit into the world around them, until they sense the nagging thought that there has to be another way.

When we notice our difference happens at different times for different people, depending on several factors: Were you able to talk to adults you trusted about your experience? Did you grow up in a more liberal or conservative environment? What role did religion play in your upbringing? And this is just the beginning of queer identity development! According to a 1979 framework developed by researcher Vivienne Cass, once a queer person notices their difference, there are still six more stages until they’re able to synthesize this into the totality of their lives.

For all of us, queerness takes time to know and accept.

Compulsory heterosexuality sucks

Let’s talk about how society pushes women into relationships with men, even when that might not be what they truly want. This idea, called compulsory heterosexuality, is about more than just assuming everyone’s straight – it’s about how our culture steers women away from relying on each other and into marriages with men.

Often misunderstood to be the same as cisheteronormativity – or, according to some misinformed folks on TikTok, something only lesbians experience – compulsory heterosexuality is a complex web of ideas. But writer Adrienne Rich popularized the term in 1980 arguing that the feminist movement needs to better understand lesbianism – not just as a sexual orientation, but as a way of life – in order to better undermine patriarchy.

In our culture, women tend to take care of one another. In fact, research shows that women are far more likely to go to their female friends for emotional support than they are to their male partners. Think back to some of the most transformative relationships you’ve had in your life, and I’m willing to bet that female best friends come up over and over again. And yet, we are actively taught through our socialization that the key to a happy, healthy life is marriage to a cis man (citation: every fairy tale ever).

So what does this mean for how we see women as potential partners – in love or in life? Rich says that society squashes women’s desire for each other, whether that’s for friendship, love, or sex. And it affects all women, not just lesbians.

For bisexual women, it gets even trickier. Particularly for those who find themselves “later in life” already committed to long-term, monogamous relationships with men, finally coming to terms with the depth of their queerness: “Well, now what?”

On the one hand, you might want to explore your queer side, but since you are attracted to men and you’re with one, it can feel easier to just ignore that part of yourself. Not because society tells you to, but because facing it feels too hard.

And it’s this pressure to bottle up and push down your queer desires can push you further and further from accepting your bisexuality, sometimes for years.

***

Combined, bisexual women’s access to their own authentic sense of desire (what feminist academics call “the erotic”) can be stunted – by no fault of their own! Bisexual women experience a deeply complex, and oftentimes painful, relationship to their queerness within cisheteropatriarchy.

So when they come out “later in life,” their newfound liberation should be celebrated, not stigmatized.

As we celebrate Bisexuality Visibility Week, let’s move beyond merely acknowledging that bisexual women are valid – but that their journey to their identity, in whatever form it takes, is valid too.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

September 10, 2024May 10, 2026

How Queer, Disabled People Are Finding Pleasure and Community Through Kink

— For decades, kinky disabled people have been creating intentional, accessible spaces where their own sensuality, agency, and erotic connection is at the center.

By Sara Youngblood Gregory

Artemis and Greta met in 2021 at a Brooklyn rope jam, a type of casual, low-pressure community event where people gather to hang out and practice rope play. The meeting, Artemis jokingly tells Them, was a business partnership at first sight.

Not long after she met Greta, Artemis began working at a woman-owned boutique sex shop — something she initially looked forward to as a kinky and disabled trans person. But Artemis quickly realized the shop wasn’t as inclusive of her community as she’d hoped.

Not only do many sex shops lack basic sexual health and gender-affirming products for trans folks, Artemis says the physical layout of these spaces are often exclusionary for disabled people. “You go in [these stores] and you’re already knocking everything over. We need spaces where fat people can move, people with limited mobility can move around and sit, [where there are] chairs and couches for people for when you’re overstimulated,” Artemis, 30, says.

Not long after working at the boutique, Artemis pitched Greta on the idea of a sex shop that catered to their community: people who are queer, trans, disabled, and decidedly kinky. Greta, a 29-year-old with autism, was immediately sold on the idea. For them, access to kink had long been central to their sex life and sense of identity.

“I’ve never had the option to come out as disabled, it’s been since day one,” says Greta. “Kink gives me a space where my support needs are the crux of what happens, and my ability to be nonverbal is both a tool and a strength.”

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Less than a year later in January 2024, the pair formally launched the Toolbox Collective in an inconspicuous brick building in New York City’s West Village. To their knowledge, the Toolbox is the first and only trans-owned, queer-centered sex shop in New York City.

The launch was so busy there was a waiting list at the door. (I should know; I was on it!) Everyone was masked, and the tables were brimming with pleasure products, many designed specifically for transfemme pleasure and with accessibility in mind. There were racks of kink gear and gender-affirming apparel, along with an abundance of free resources: educational zines, harm reduction treatments like Narcan, drug testing kits, and condoms. Though the initial launch was in a basement, requiring a narrow journey down a flight of stairs, the Toolbox Collective has since hosted events and workshops in many different venues and are working toward a permanent brick-and-mortar shop that’s fully accessible.

“The ultimate goal of the Toolbox Collective is building a space where people can go and have the tools and resources to access a more autonomous and embodied relationship to their pleasure,” says Greta.

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For decades, kinky disabled people have been creating intentional, accessible spaces where their own sensuality, agency, and erotic connection is at the center. But as with the Toolbox Collective, much of this work comes from a place of necessity and exclusion. Although one in four adults in the U.S. is living with a disability, disabled adults are often infantilized, desexualized, or reduced to harmful tropes — and that’s to say nothing of the legal disparities that impact disabled folks, including marriage equality. Even in queer and trans spaces, it’s common for disabled people to be treated as an afterthought.

Kink, both as a practice and a community, can offer a space where queer and trans disabled people get to experience their own bodies on their own terms. From BDSM and beyond, kink can happen anywhere desire happens and be adapted across a full spectrum of bodies and abilities. It ranges from sensation play and bondage to power exchanges and roleplay.

“Kink gives me a space where my support needs are the crux of what happens, and my ability to be nonverbal is both a tool and a strength.”

As Anna Randall, a clinical sexologist and executive director of The Alternative Sexualities Health Research Alliance (TASHRA) points out, research has even proven that kink can offer particular benefits for disabled folks. As both a practice and community, kink can encourage confidence, personal healing, body acceptance, community building, and in some cases, even pain or symptom management, Randall tells Them

“BDSM is a playground of somatic experiences,” Randall says. Kink often encourages embodiment — or an intentional connection between the mind, body and senses — which can be especially valuable for people with disabilities and those with certain sensory needs and cravings, Randall adds.

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For Sara Elise, a 35-year-old autistic leatherdyke, embodiment is one of the main benefits of her kink practice. “[BDSM play] allows me to be fully body-present, open, and flowing, the best version of myself,” she says. Elise discovered kink over a decade ago and soon began exploring bottoming and submission, as well as other power dynamics and ritualized play.

“Before developing a relationship with kink and receiving my diagnosis, I knew that I felt too much but I didn’t know why and I didn’t know how to deal with it,” Elise says. To cope with her symptoms, she regularly turned to self-harm and self-medicating with drugs and alcohol.

“When I discovered kink, I discovered an outlet for self-regulation and play, a boundaried, clear, communicative, and constructive outlet for processing the intensity of energy and feelings I experience,” Elise says.

Like Elise, 23-year-old Juno uses kink to connect with their body — and to reclaim their power after negative healthcare experiences. During their sophomore year of college, Juno was often in and out of the hospital. These visits, alongside a childhood fear of needles, left them with a strong aversion to medical settings.

But while researching body modifications for their thesis, Juno decided to explore sharps play, which involves using sharp objects like needles on the body. Pretty soon, they were hooked. “I developed this really interesting relationship with [needles] where I decided, this is scary, but I have control over it,” they say. “It’s exposure therapy almost and it makes it so much easier to just look at a needle and be like, that’s nothing I can handle that.” Juno gets blood work done every few months; the appointments have transformed from uncomfortable to mundane.

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But kink isn’t just about finding joy and agency in a sometimes-tenuous body; it’s also a way to build community. Though most queer people understand the importance of chosen family, these networks of care can be especially vital for disabled people who are more likely to lack adequate healthcare, housing, employment and other basic resources than their non-disabled counterparts. Though they often go underappreciated, these communities are deeply tied to LGBTQ+ history and survival. During the AIDS crisis, for example, leather families and lesbian activists helped popularize what was called the “San Francisco model of care,” a then-radical approach that prioritized holistic care for people living with HIV and AIDs — including home-delivered meals and other services — rather than solely focusing on medical treatment.

Today, the internet is transforming how kinky disabled people can find one another. In her research with TASHRA, Anna Randall says approximately 80% of kinksters go online to find community — and that includes Pup Quincy, a 26-year-old living with Multiple Sclerosis and chronic pain.

After exploring the New York city play party scene, Pup Quincy decided to fully embrace kink online, especially as various parties began lifting their COVID-19 guidelines. Online, they’ve attended workshops and monthly meet-ups and regularly connect on Discord.

“When it comes to the kink disability community, I would not have been able to connect with as many people or really as regularly or intentionally if it had not been for the spaces that I found online,” Pup Quincy says. “We’re [in these spaces] because we can’t engage with sex in the ways we like to or want to on a regular basis and finding that community has been very, very fulfilling and rewarding.”
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These disability-centered spaces and relationships have helped Pup Quincy enter their self-love era, where they connect with and care for their body through self-domming (depending on the person, self-domming can be focused erotic acts like masturbation or non-sexual activities like self-care). “The more I talk to other disabled people, I’m like ‘you guys are fucking smart,” they say. “[I] walk away feeling like, oh wow, there’s really so many possibilities to feel good in a world and a body that might feel really fucking bad. The perseverance and resilience to do that all the time is truly one of the most beautiful things in the world to me.”

There’s also a demand for IRL spaces where disabled pleasure is baked into the culture of the play, not sprinkled on top as an afterthought.

“The rope scene is not untouched by white supremacy, and in turn, ableism, fatphobia, and transphobia,” says Salem, a 26-year-old rope switch. When some friends introduced them to their local rope scene, Salem was immediately drawn to the social atmosphere of rope jams and the way relationships between rope facilitates intimate, non-normative dynamics. But a lot of rope education excludes modifications for bigger, disabled, or hypermobile people, and according to Salem, many riggers just aren’t that interested in learning these modifications.

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“Though shibari is Japanese, the idealized body in rope, at least in the U.S., is a thin, able-bodied cis white woman,” they say. “I would say the scene largely pedestalizes ties that are intense and risky, while ties that are more comfortable, lower risk, and more accessible are seen as ‘boring,’ which unfortunately leaves a lot of people on the margins.” In response, Salem co-founded a rope jam that centers trans and marginalized kinksters — one of the few monthly rope spaces that still practices COVID precautions.

Now, Salem’s rope community is largely made up of other trans people of color, sex workers, and disabled folks. Salem reports that people often find their rope jams to be one of the only spaces they feel comfortable tying. Like kink itself, community spaces are co-created by all those involved, meaning they can be shaped and reshaped to fit the needs of all parties.

“Rope is like a language, and you give yourself a loose script. It feels like a safe(r) container where genuine play and vulnerability become accessible,” Salem says. “Through rope, I’ve found a lovely community of weirdos who see me for who I really am, who take care of each other, and who are willing to have hard conversations about important things.”

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!

September 1, 2024May 13, 2026

The Easy Peasy Guide to Gender and Sexual Identity Terms

By Michael Krivich

Am I the only one who thinks that, like every day, there is a new term to describe an individual’s gender or sexual identity? Using a tired old sports analogy, keeping a score without a scorecard is hard. That is what it seems like some days with the seemingly constant flow of new terms and definitions.

The genesis of this article was when, the other day, I read a news story about someone who claimed they were abrosexual. Being exposed to a new term, I needed to look it up to understand the content and context of what was written. My curiosity got me thinking about the multitude of terms and subsequent definitions used to describe someone’s sexual orientation and gender identification.

What I learned is that the language surrounding sexual and gender identity is constantly evolving and diverse, reflecting the complexity of human experiences. For transparency, I used OpenAI ChatGPT only for the terms and definitions in the research. It was a great time saver.

Let me be clear: I am not taking any political, religious, biblical, judgemental, or any other position regarding how a person identifies their gender or sexuality. That is their business, period, end discussion.

As a result, here are two lists of terms and definitions as a reference guide regarding gender and sexual identity as I write this article.

Gender Identity

Cisgender (cis): A person whose gender identity aligns with the sex assigned at birth.

Transgender (trans): A person whose gender identity differs from the sex assigned at birth.

Non-binary: A person whose gender identity doesn’t fit within the traditional binary categories of male or female.

Genderqueer: A term used by some individuals whose gender identity doesn’t conform to societal expectations of masculinity or femininity.

Genderfluid: A person’s gender identity may change over time or in different contexts.

Agender: A person who identifies as having no gender or as neutral.

Bigender: A person who identifies as having two gender identities simultaneously or at different times.

Gender nonconforming: A broad term for individuals whose gender expression doesn’t conform to societal norms.

Two-spirit: Some Indigenous North American cultures use the term to describe individuals who embody masculine and feminine qualities.

Demigender: A person whose gender identity is partially but not fully aligned with one’s assigned sex or with the binary gender system.

Pangender: A person whose gender identity encompasses all genders.

Androgynous: A person whose appearance and/or identity blends masculine and feminine characteristics. A non-binary gender identity that is neutral or null.

Gender questioning: A person who is exploring or questioning their gender identity.

Genderflux: A gender identity that fluctuates in intensity.

Intergender: A person whose gender identity is between or a combination of genders.

Multigender: A person who identifies with more than one gender.

Trigender: A person who shifts between three different gender identities.

Gender creative: A term often used for children whose gender expression or identity doesn’t conform to traditional norms.

Transmasculine: A term used to describe individuals who were assigned female at birth but identify more closely with masculinity.

Transfeminine: A term used to describe individuals who were assigned male at birth but identify more closely with femininity.

Sexual Identity

Heterosexual: Attracted to people of the opposite gender.

Homosexual: Attracted to people of the same gender.

Bisexual: Attracted to people of both genders.

Pansexual: Attracted to people regardless of their gender identity or biological sex.

Asexual: Experiencing little or no sexual attraction to others.

Demisexual: Experiencing sexual attraction only after forming a strong emotional bond with someone.

Queer: An umbrella term for sexual and gender minorities who are not heterosexual or cisgender. It can encompass a wide range of identities.

Polysexual: Attracted to multiple genders, but not necessarily all genders.

Fluid: A term used to describe a sexuality that is not fixed and may change over time.

Androsexual/Gynesexual: Attracted to masculinity/femininity regardless of gender identity.

Greysexual: Experiencing sexual attraction rarely or only under specific circumstances.

Lithsexual: Experiencing sexual attraction but not wanting it to be reciprocated.

Skoliosexual: Attracted to non-binary and transgender people.

Sapiosexual: Attracted to intelligence or intellect.

Autosexual: Finding oneself sexually attractive.

Ceterosexual: Attracted to non-binary people.

Reciprosexual: Experiencing sexual attraction only when it is reciprocated.

Abrosexuality: Describes individuals whose sexual orientation is fluid and may change over time or in different circumstances.

Omnisexuality: A sexual orientation in which a person is attracted to people of all genders, including men, women, nonbinary people, and other gender identities.

It’s important to note that this list is not exhaustive, and new terms and definitions may emerge as our understanding of gender and sexuality evolves. Additionally, individuals may have unique experiences and preferences when describing their gender identity.<

Now, you’ll understand what they are talking about. At least, I will, anyway.

Complete Article ↪HERE↩!