Angela

People often talk about how small the queer community is, mostly like it's a bad thing. But I love being a part of the queer community! Realizing I was queer was one of the best things to happen to me. Not only because I got to stop pretending to be something I wasn't, but I finally felt like I belonged somewhere. And isn't that what we all want? You don't hear straight people saying, "Oh, I have such a sense if belonging with the straight community," because it's the norm. Queerness aside, I never saw myself as part of the mainstream. It just seemed so...boring. And too many people there. I found conformity unsettling, which is why I sometimes wonder how much of my queerness is chosen or innate. Which came first- rejection of the majority or being gay? It doesn't really matter. I just like being a part of a community where social networks are constantly intersecting, yet new people are coming in. I love that there are so many events that give me the chance to identify as queer, along with something else- queer and writer, queer and performer, queer and athlete, queer and activist, queer and social. I like having this common link that joins us together. I guess it makes sense that I am currently working with queer youth to both cultivate their own community, as well as acquaint them with the adult queer community. I love this community and I am committed to ensuring its existence for future queers.

Martin

Just take a look at my face. That expression is what my mother always called "the look." It conveys disdain and disgust with all the subtlety of a kick to the groin. At an early age it became obvious that I had no filter on my brain. Whatever I think or feel will be betrayed by either the look on my face or the words from my mouth. If a picture is worth a thousand words, I should let this one speak for itself. However, the artist has requested that each queer portrait include a written statement by its queer subject. That would be me. Queer Martin. Hell, I've been called worse.

I'm just not sure I have anything else to say about being gay--not anything you'd be interested to read and certainly not anything you haven't heard before from lots of other queers and from this faggot in particular. Most of my life has revolved around feeling/acting/being queer--a consequence of being born gay and being born Southern and being inclined to fight the obvious results of those facts. There's never been any hiding my queerness or blending in with the normals, and at this point I wouldn't even if I could. The world let me know I was a sissy long before I had the slightest concept of sexuality. Perhaps it was inevitable that I would come out as a gay rights activist a full year before I kissed a boy for the first time. I spent a great deal of time and energy on fighting for equality, whatever that is. I've been beaten because I'm gay. I've been disowned because I'm gay. On the flip side, my queer sensibility informs the two qualities I value most in myself--intelligence and wit. I'm not Oscar Wilde or Paul Lynde, but I hold my own.

See, nothing new here. My life is like a local theater production of a Tennessee Williams play. If you don't believe me, you should meet my mother. But I digress. Despite evidence to the contrary, I'm tired of thinking about and talking about being gay. Thankfully, I may be among the last for whom being queer eclipses the other components of our identities. To quote Little Edie, "I have no makeup on... but things are getting better!" Each generation paves more of the road, and we're nearing a time when gay folks can do less paving and more walking. This is what so many of us have been fighting for--the opportunity to stop being queer and start simply being. This faggot has done enough paving for now. I'm ready to walk, so y'all better get off my runway. If you don't think I mean business, just take a look at my face.

Kiki

I am queer and I remind myself every day that queers are my family. For me, being queer isn’t just synonymous with LGBTQ. Queerness is also about making a commitment to working for social justice, even – and often most importantly – when this means engaging in struggles that don’t seem to affect us directly as individuals. Queers are not complacent. I also believe that we have profound capacities to care for each other and ourselves as we work to bring joy, peace and badassness into the world. I grew up in a small northern Michigan town where I first witnessed how complicated it can be to balance visibility and safety, especially in the absence of queer community. In my adult life, I am grateful to be out, vocal and in a position to foreground issues of relevance to queers in my work as an activist-academic, educator, writer and community organizer. Queers rock my world.