As a queer person, it’s a difficult task to admit and assess how I may have engaged in systemic erasure to possibly hurt those of a community I represent and relate to. I am the first to rally for Gay Pride every year, I read queer authors, and I make it a point to educate myself on the oppression queer people have endured throughout history. Yet, it’s imperative to recognize that violence isn’t always blatantly entrenched in our actions. It tends to slither between the cracks of what is not said, and not done, when we come face to face with the options of either staying complicit within the status quo, or going against it. 

I came out as bisexual in high school after years of struggling with my sexuality. I was privileged enough to live in a liberal, affluent area, that supported the LGBTQ+ community, and thus I never experienced the discrimination that many other queer people face when coming out within their communities. In addition to my upbringing, I was allowed the privilege of being a bisexual woman as opposed to a man. This favoring of same sex relationships greatly stems from the misogynistic idea that lesbian relationships are more “attractive” in the eyes of heterosexual men, whereas gay relationships are looked upon less favorably. I often question whether the reactions of those around me would’ve been less supportive if I had been a bisexual man, rather than a feminine presenting girl. This questioning is rooted in my awareness of the intersection of both my gender and sexuality, as well as the acknowledgement of the privileges I hold while still being a sub sector of a minority. 

In addition to the privileges I hold as a bisexual woman, my physical appearance greatly impacts how others interact with me. During my years as a highschool student, I was a stereotypical cheerleader; white, blond, and very feminine presenting. All of my physical characteristics clearly pointed towards a layout of heteronormativity that would condition me to be heterosexual. Therefore, many people assumed I was. This assumption would be followed by questions entailing what I expected of my future husband, what my ideal boyfriend looked like, and when I presumably expected to marry a man. I would passively answer these questions, refusing to correct those asking or the underlying assumption they presumed, because I convinced myself that doing so wasn’t worth the effort. What I failed to realize at the time was that these questions, though harmless in nature, were deeply woven in a structure of continuous misrepresentation and erasure of queer people. 

Queer people come in all physical forms, myself being an example of this fact. The diversity within the queer community is expansive, and shouldn’t only be represented in the media as flamboyant, feminine gay men or short haired, butch lesbians. The underrepresentation of diversity misdirects society to believe that a person’s sexuality is on display to assume through their physical appearance. There are a plethora of identities within queer culture that are erased and forgotten, thus adding to the oppression of queer people who have already endured the labeling of a “dead class” in the eyes of necropolitics. 

A fundamental concept to ending this cycle of violence is using an intersectional framework in one’s daily life. Applying this concept to my personal experiences and interactions, I intentionally use the term “partner” when asking others about their romantic endeavors as to not assume, regardless of appearance, that those whom I am speaking to are straight. In addition to this, I make sure to correct others if in conversation it becomes apparent that they believe I am heterosexual. Although the practice of critical praxis was a concept I had to adjust to and consciously be aware of, it has allowed me to be authentic and honest in my interactions with others. 

Complicity is a dangerous disease, and it is our responsibility as advocates for our communities to cease the spreading of ignorant and hateful beliefs. The task of overthrowing industries of intolerance, as seen through homophobia, sexism, and racism, may seem overwhelming, but they are unable to work unless they are armed with the complicity of those below them. If we are to tackle these systems successfully, we must hold others accountable in perpetuating insensitive stereotypes and hurtful assumptions that place normative groups on a pedestal. The key is in realizing the importance of daily interactions and conversations, and the harm one is capable of unknowingly perpetrating on minorities when one chooses to stay silent in the face of blatant discrimination, erasure, and violence.