I’m trying to remember the last time someone called me a “queer” to my face, and... oh! IT WAS LAST WEEK. As you may know, I act in stuff from time to time (I’m pretty good, but NBD). Anyway, some aggro rando dude walked into the theater (a former Chinese school) where we were rehearsing a show, and he refused to leave. After additional confrontation, he screamed in my face, “YOU ARE A CHINESE-LOVING QUEER!” And I replied, “THANK YOU! Finally, someone who recognizes me!”

Full disclosure: While it’s absolutely true I love Chinese people, I have never “loved” a Chinese person, if you know what I mean. But not for lack of trying! I’ve accepted the fact that when it comes to sex, I’m just not everyone’s cup of tea. Anyway, here’s the point: I get called “queer” A LOT... roughly 17 times per year. In fact, I get called “queer” so often, I was very surprised by an email I received today from a Southern Oregon gentleman who referred to me as a “liberal, foul-mouthed looser [sic],” but neglected to call me a “queer.” (There were a lot of misspellings, so I just figured he was in a rush.)

While these people absolutely intend it as an insult, I actually enjoy being called queer, and even experience a weird feeling of relief. See, I’m bisexual, and though it may sound odd, sometimes I don’t feel like I’m queer enough. Complicating matters is that I’m a bisexual heteroromantic—which in layperson’s terms means while I’m romantically attracted to the opposite sex exclusively, I also dig juicy boners. To put a finer point on it: Juicy boners are great—I just don’t fall in love with them.

In the past this has caused me a bit of discomfort, because—even though I’m a definite “B”—I never felt like I deserved being included in the LGBTQ+ alphabet. And yet I’m still being called “queer” 17 times per year (largely based on my progressive politics, but also because—let’s be honest—I like wearing tight trousers, colorful tops, and writing obsessively about Ariana Grande). In short, I didn’t feel like I belonged anywhere.

OH BOO-HOO-HOO, POOR ME, RIGHT? Look, I realize there are many queers of all stripes that have it exponentially worse than I do, and yet? I’ve never met a queer who treated me like I was somehow less queer than they were. In fact, they’ve all been super cool, and for me, that’s what the “plus” in LGBTQ+ stands for: It’s for everyone else. It’s meant to include everyone who has a little bit of queer in them, and who knows? That might be you, too.

Nowadays I no longer need the annual parade of 17 assholes telling me what I already know: I’m queer, I’m here, and I’m very used to it.

Happy Pride to all
(and everyone in-between),
Wm. Steven Humphrey
Editor-in-Chief
Portland Mercury