Will You Still Be Queer?

We were listening to the song, Please Don’t Go. My best friend jokingly remixed lyrics of the song to say, “when I wake up tomorrow, will you still be queer?” Our other friends were confused at the joke, but it struck me early on. I chuckled and looked at the moving train. If only that question could just be a joke. Still, I laughed at the thorny fear of that question.

In the queer person’s connection with another, they have the natural fear that the other may leave them, just as any other couple would have, but there is another element of the fear possessed in the queer heart: will they abandon their queerness too? It is a scary thought, because it threatens not only the romantic endeavor but also the truth of the endeavor itself. If my lover leaves me, they can leave me and also their identity that linked us. This feels like a second blow because what was so visceral and real is unverifiable. The anxiety surrounding this possibility is painful.

I feel strongly for someone who lives in this limbo between being straight and queer. I understand he feels like he’s in a hall of mirrors. I shudder just thinking about all of the pressure he endures. Though, I too feel burdened by circumstance. I cannot help my feeling the way I feel. I don’t want to abandon what we have just as much as I want him to stay within my affectionate reach. The fears have a tearing effect on me. When my loved ones ask what is wrong, the scratching in my throat prevents any speech.

I wake up often wondering if today is the day I won’t get a response from him for good — the day he leaves his feelings and me. The fear jolts me to my phone. When I see a text, my body relaxes. This overhanging edge isn’t healthy. It isn’t his fault; it isn’t mine. Alas, I am here, writing away my worries. This moment is particular, though. It is my admittance, my rebellion that I will love without regret. I may not be able to escape my fears or my circumstance. But what I can do is reveal these struggles. The longer I am quiet, the longer outside pressures assume power between my lover and me.

For him, I write.

So that, one day I can wake up and not ask the question: will you still be queer?