#there’s a certain kind of queer loneliness that comes with spending so long in the closet

[takemetodragonstone]

thinking about my future, all i really want out of life is financial stability, a life-partner to build a home with, and a close-knit community of friends. when i try to imagine what happiness would look like for me, it’s a warm, crowded room full of laughter and people i love and trust. that’s it. seems so simple. so why does it feel so far out of reach?

[nerdygaymormon]

A Letter to Elder Holland

Elder Holland, I’m certain you receive many, many letters, so if you’re reading my note, thank you. I am a member of The Church of Jesus Christ of Latter-day Saints and I am gay. That combination often doesn't fit well together. There is much about the gospel and the church that I love. This church connects me with the Divine. This church gave me the language to understand spiritual things. I’ve learned a lot about being a better person, to serve, and to be empathetic. It’s just that where church intersects with how I was made by our Creator, there is tension. In this letter I share some of the feelings I’ve had with that. I struggled to accept that I like boys. I made many pleas and bargains with God to change me. I tried so hard to be the most faithful, best member ever, but every imperfection and shortfall was proof that I wasn't good enough for God to change me. That was a stressful way to live.     There came a day when I knelt down and asked “God, do you love me? All of me? Who I am and what I am?” I immediately felt enveloped in immense love, and warmth radiated across my body as a voice in my ear said “You are not broken.” That answer to my prayer sustained me for a long time. It is sad that a person who grew up in church didn’t know if God could love me. What a relief to learn God loves me and doesn’t view being gay as defective. I was in the closet when I was a missionary and when I attended the church schools in Rexburg & Provo. It felt like I had this big secret I had to protect and a lot of mental energy went into remaining on guard and making sure no one would find out. It felt really lonely not being able to be open. The best friendships are where you can be vulnerable but I had to worry about being able to stay in school so honest friendships had to wait for another time. For a long time I didn’t come out as gay because it seemed like it would disrupt my life in really negative ways. Staying in the closet kept my world intact. Much of my family’s life revolves around church. Being a member of this church gives me a social network, a map of life goals, and an identity. Coming out meant I could lose all of it.

Squashing all my romantic and sexual feelings also shuts down most other feelings. I spent my 20’s & 30’s feeling numb, like I was watching life but not a part of it. I spent those years wishing a bus would hit me or a major disease would strike. Those kinds of deaths would end my suffering and also be okay for my family because they wouldn’t have to know I’m gay.  I finally reached the point where I was tired of going through the motions. What’s the point of having a life if I wasn’t going to live? As I was approaching my 40th birthday, I decided it’s time for a change. It was hard to share the secret I had spent my life guarding, so initially I came out one person at a time with no big announcement Coming out changed my life in ways I didn’t foresee. I think because I could let down my guard and there was less conflict between my public & private identities, I appeared more confident. People started to notice. I got higher positions at work, and I was pulled from the Primary, which is where I spent most of my adult life. My 40's have been spent in stake callings. I’m grateful my stake president views me as able to serve regardless that I'm attracted to men. 

Being gay complicates church for me. Questions that have simple answers for others are complex for me.    One thing about being open that I’m gay means I don’t pretend to be on the path for straight people. There’s no way for me to complete the covenant path, I can’t become a husband & father (at least not if I want to stay in the church), I can’t achieve the goals that our religion says should be the purpose of my life. It feels wobbly to be on an unmarked path. I understand the Church’s teachings on God’s Plan of Happiness. I wish there was some guidance about the purpose of my life and the path for me as a queer person. It feels like a void in our understanding and so the default answer to everything is “we don’t know,” and “no, that’s not for you.” Church can be a place of comfort & peace, but it’s also a place that can hurt. The November 2015 Policy of Exclusion felt like I'd been punched in the stomach and I nearly walked away from the Church. Only a clear message from God that there was a work for me to do kept me here. I reluctantly stayed and God has used me to bless other LGBTQIA members and that has been a surprising source of joy in my life. 

There’s been some recent conference talks that identify me as a distraction to the church because I can’t be complete the covenant path. That really stings. I’m doing the best I can but those words hit me hard, like the church doesn’t value or even want me. I think back to how I felt when I prayed to know if God loves me and how differently that felt. I don't think God views being gay as incompatible with the gospel.  I’ve had church leaders tell me that it will all be sorted out after I die. Some even say when I’m resurrected I won’t be gay and can marry & have the blessings of the gospel. I understand this is meant to comfort me, but saying I can be happy only when I’m dead isn’t a great message. I need hope in this life. Life can be lonely. I know this is true for many people. I look at my nieces and nephews, they're starting to serve missions and get married and become adults with their own lives. My life is getting significantly lonelier as they grow up.

Everyone has times they wonder if their parents will be disappointed in them for something they've said or done, but I don't think most non-queer children spend years wondering if their parents would still love them if they reveal something important about themselves.

Even though I have a temple recommend, my parents don’t like that I’m gay and my father asks if I were molested growing up or wishes I would go to reparative therapy. My mother wishes I would go back in the closet and that we’d never have to speak of this unpleasantness again. My siblings’ reaction is mixed, some offer unconditional love & want me in their lives and others make it clear that they only remain in touch as long as I make life choices they approve.    A few years ago I went to therapy because of suicidal thoughts. While meeting with the psychologist, I was diagnosed with social anxiety disorder and we also worked on my low self esteem. My life is much better for having received mental health treatment. Thank you for your 2013 talk about mental health. It’s an important subject around which there’s still a stigma. It was helpful I could point my family to an apostle’s words that it’s good to seek help from a mental health professional. When I was in the closet, my attraction to men brought me nothing but trouble and heartache. Being open about how I experience life has allowed my orientation to also become a source of happiness. I found other friends who are members of the Church & LGBTQ+ and it’s wonderful because we understand each other’s experiences in a way many others don’t. I am proud that this is the 8th year the youth of my stake have known a gay member of the church. I wish I’d had such a role model when I was growing up, someone who I thought could understand me or in whom I could confide and seek encouragement. I’ve come to learn that there are LGBTQ+ individuals in each ward of my stake and they often keep this a secret, afraid of how other members will react. Being both gay and a member of this church is challenging. I know some people hold me up as an example, telling their gay son or daughter they can remain in the church like I have. The thing is, the people who do this, I don’t think they understand the type of life they are wishing onto someone they love, it's living a half-life, a stunted life. They should get to know my story before wishing it on someone else. As I said above, God said there was a work for me to do in this church, and I've worked hard to make the little piece of the Church I interact with to be more kind and loving.

It feels like changes are on the horizon for me. Probably a release from my calling in the next few months, and I don't know what else. It's time to think about the future and my path in life.

Since the goals presented in church are not available to me, I have to figure out what a successful life looks like for me, what the purpose of my life is, how God wants me to partner with Him in the work He is doing in the world today. I suspect working all this out will take a lot of mental, emotional & spiritual work. I already feel a bit fatigued just thinking about it, but I also know the Lord has blessed and buoyed me over the years and believe He will continue to do so. 

I would appreciate if you would say a prayer on my behalf, and also for other LGBTQIA+ members that we can be open to the spirit and follow where God guides us. I don't know how we fit into God's Plan, but I'm certain the author of diversity has made provisions for us. 

David

[theritualofourexistence]

Pitted dates.

It’s a pun.

Here it is! The dating apps blog post you’ve been waiting for! Although, it’s not exactly about dating apps. It’s also not exactly about dating. It’s a tree with a lot of branches and no coherent thru-plot but all of these things do feel at least a little bit related so buckle up.

To start: a brief background. 

I am nearly thirty. I identify as ace or aspec (asexuality spectrum). I am not hetero... if pressed, I’d probably call myself queer... but generally speaking “not hetero” seems to cover that part of things adequately. I’ve had a handful of long-term relationships and partners. I’ve been single since my last relationship of over three years ended abruptly in 2015. I haven’t dated since then. I’ve gone on a handful of dates in that time, but no repeats and no relationships. 

It took me a long time to move past my last relationship. I probably didn’t even consider dating apps for a whole year. I’m not very socially outgoing and I don’t have much of a friend group in my town so I don’t go out to the bars or anything... which means dating apps are one of the only ways for me to actually start exploring options.

I started with OkCupid and eventually worked my way to Bumble. I can’t afford to pay for anything more involved so I’ve never tried Match or anything like that... and Tinder was never particularly appealing to me either because I have no interest in hook-ups. 

I’ve posted on and off about being single over the years. There were plenty of times, early on, when I hated being single. I felt alone and broken and it wasn’t a good place to be. Gradually I became more comfortable, however. I explored labels a bit more. I learned a lot about myself. I’m at a place now where, though I am lonely sometimes, for the most part I feel like my needs can be met by the people in my life... even though I’m not romantically involved with any of them. 

In response to a blog post from a few years ago, a woman a generation or two older than me sent me a message implying that she was sure I’d settle down and find someone who could make me happy if I just lowered my standards a bit.

Then, that sort of made me blind with rage. 

Generally, now, it still does. 

I’ve thought a lot about this message and its implication over the years. There are times when I can see how someone might think my standards are too lofty. But what’s the difference between standards, even high standards, and simply knowing what you are and aren’t compatible with? 

I’ve dated enough and been single enough to be VERY confident about some things. 

And yes, there are certainly some deal-breakers. 

It’s possible that there are more deal-breakers than “deal-makers” so to speak, but I still think that’s probably not the worst thing in the world. Especially for someone who is relatively comfortable being single and also relatively busy with work. Dating takes time. And here at almost-thirty, I don’t feel like spending time on someone who I am pretty sure I won’t be compatible with.

It’s not so much that I’m judging the others, either. When on a dating app, I’m pretty careful to only swipe right for guys I think would also be compatible with me. 

If you use the word “spontaneous” in your bio and at least one of your pictures is you sky-diving... you’re probably not right for me. 

If you put in your bio that you’re only interested in women who prioritize dogs and fitness... I’m probably not right for you. 

Is that tied to lofty expectations? Or am I simply being realistic and saving both myself and the other party time and effort? 

I certainly have a type. And I’m sure there are potential partners out there for me that are not that type. I’m not averse to being surprised or trying something a little unexpected. What I do know, however, is that I will never jump out of a plane. And I will also probably never kiss a dog on the mouth. 

My “standards” are basically generated from my knowledge of myself. So, sure, call them lofty. But I’m pretty proud of the effort I’ve put in to understanding myself, and when it comes to dating, there is value in utilizing that knowledge. Here are some things I know about me and the associated “standard.” 

I am not a partier. I don’t do drugs. I rarely drink. If you are visibly drunk or stoned in the majority of your pictures, we probably aren’t super compatible. 

My politics lean FAR left. I don’t even like referring to myself as a “democrat.” I care deeply about social justice issues. If you voted for Trump, we probably aren’t super compatible. 

I am extremely anti-gun. I grew up in a rural area and understand both the sport and value of hunting. I know that I will never hunt though. Could I be compatible with a hunter? Yes, definitely. But could I be compatible with someone who is waving around various guns in 3 out of their 4 pictures? Probably not. 

I am a cat person. Though I don’t HATE dogs, I certainly prefer cats. I have a very low tolerance for small dogs and, in general, I don’t like the way dogs smell. I’ve made friends with a handful of dogs in my life and certainly could again. But if you say that you hate cats in your profile, we probably aren’t compatible. 

I work a lot and I make no money. As a result, I’m tired a lot. I spend a lot of my very limited down time doing extremely low-key activities like reading or art or watching TV. I can’t afford to travel much. Part of the reason I work a lot is because I’m actively trying to hit certain career milestones. I feel like I’m a bit behind. But more than that, I’m very passionate about my work. If you expect to take the place of my long-term career goals, we probably aren’t compatible. If you expect me to hop on the next plane to Europe or Asia or Africa, we probably aren’t compatible... unless you’re covering the costs. 

I’m a feminist. If you’re a fundamentalist Christian or someone who believes a woman’s place is in the home, we probably aren’t compatible. 

I believe black lives matter. If you currently display or have ever displayed the confederate flag, we probably aren’t compatible. 

I’m committed to learning. Not necessarily in school, but from everything in the world around me. If you don’t share that perspective, we may not be compatible.

I am looking for someone who shares some of my interests. 

I’m looking for someone who has other human beings in the pictures they post in their profile... instead of six different versions of the same poorly lit selfie from an unflattering angle. I think I’m probably looking for that last thing so that I’m not raped, stalked, or murdered if we’re being honest. 

I’ve already said that I identify on the asexuality spectrum. As such, there’s very little that I’m naturally attracted to... if I find that, and it’s very rare, that person and I almost never “match.” If we do match and you ask about my labels and I explain them and your instant response is that I must be ace because I’ve just never had good sex, we definitely aren’t compatible. 

I don’t know, all written out, maybe this is a lot. 

But I still don’t think it is. 

For the most part, every guy on dating apps seems to be looking for the same woman. 

She’s thin and into fitness, she has a dog, she hikes a lot, she loves going to concerts and traveling the world and she works hard but parties harder.

That woman can’t possibly exist in enough quantities to please all the men on Bumble. In fact, I doubt that woman exists at all because I don’t understand how you have the time or money to even do half those things. 

So yeah, I may have high-ish standards... but are MY standards even the issue?

If no one on Bumble has any interest in a fat brunette with a lot of tattoos who reads a lot and wears sweatpants more than any other clothes... well, what I want isn’t going to matter a whole lot anyway.

I want someone who loves me for me... who works to understand me... who raises me up but who also respects my independent nature. I don’t think I do well if I feel too needed. I want someone who respects my politics, my philosophy, my dietary/health choices, my mental health journey, my career aspirations, my sexuality... and hell, if that’s too much to ask, I’d probably rather just be on my own. 

I had a big “ah-ha” moment a few years ago when it occurred to me that if I want to have a child, I can do so on my own. I can choose a donor, I can carry a baby or I can use a surrogate; if those things don’t work, I can adopt. My family and friends are a safety net forged in the strongest flexible metal in the known and unknown worlds and I have no question that they would be enough to guide me in that journey. 

Now, if I go that direction, it’s still many years away. But I know I could do it. And that’s enough to wipe away the creeping fear of the biological clock. 

I am not in a hurry. But I don’t have time to waste. I have a never-ending list of books to read and a finite number of years to read them so yeah, I’d rather sit on the couch with my mom and my cat than go on a date with someone I know I won’t be compatible with. 

Are my standards too high? I truly don’t think that shit matters at all. 

There are times when I’m lonely, but I am not alone. And I know that’s also a common occurrence for many people who are dating or married or polyamorous or ace or divorced or whatever. I’m pretty sure loneliness is just a part of the human condition. 

And, most importantly, my needs are largely being met. Browsing dating apps is entertaining at times, even if it doesn’t lead to dates. There are times when I want to be told I’m beautiful, I want to be told I’m powerful generous kind loving passionate giving funny sexy smart creative. Just because I’m not dating someone, however, does not mean I don’t have someone to tell me those things. It’s a wonder what friends and family can do... all you have to do is ask. And sometimes you don’t even need to do that!

Would I like a partner to walk with me through the rest of the world? Sure. But, at the same time, no partner will ever know me the way my best friend does. The way my family does. They may know me in a different way and a valuable way, but no one will know me like the people who have watched me become who I am... through trauma and time and growth and failure and success. And sure, we are always growing and changing and experiencing new failure and success... but I just don’t know. The more I age and the more I think about it, the more I’m pretty sure I don’t *need* a significant other. And that’s a comforting thing, not a sad thing. 

I don’t think there’s ONE person out there for you. I don’t think some all-knowing deity designed your perfect “other half.” You are a whole ass person and that is enough for my god. Even more so, implying you can only be completed by one other human person means you’ll miss out on what you could gain from so many other beautiful people along the way. 

I think it’s okay for me to be honest if I’m not interested in going on a date with a thirty-year-old basement troll. I think it’s okay for me to be honest if I’m not interested in going on a date with a suit-wearing globe-trotter who spends his weekends blowing his income/inheritance with a drink in hand. I can sure as hell promise you that I’m never going to be Sarah who weighs a trim 120 and has a long blond braid and hikes with her dog on the weekends when she’s not tanning on a beach in Spain or tailgating/day-drinking for eight hours at a time.

Is it my standards or their standards or is it something completely different? 

I think it’s human to want to be enough. 

I would be lying if I said I didn’t feel that way.

But the more time and energy I spend on loving and understanding myself, the more confident I am that I *am* enough. I’m not defining “enough” by what a spouse or partner sees/wants/needs. I’m defining “enough” for myself. And if I’m enough for me, maybe that is all I really need.

Maybe, in time, I will find someone to share my life with in a romantic way.

Or maybe I won’t.

And honestly, I would just like to believe that I’ll be okay no matter what. 

[thesinglesjukebox]

CHARLI XCX & CHRISTINE AND THE QUEENS - GONE

[7.79]

We do NOT fucking hate these people...

Elisabeth Sanders: I have no idea if this song is good or bad, all I know is that I am a homosexual. [10]

Alfred Soto: She triumphed at Pitchfork Festival against every one of my expectations: a diva who pirouetted, thrusted, and sashayed like a star with no interest in behind-the-scenes song doctoring. She played "Gone" in vivider incarnation; she sung "I fucking hate these people" as a shared joke between her and the festival's largest queer audience. The boom boom clap of the percussion keeps out of the way, but I wish it presented an obstacle over which she could hurdle. [7]

Nellie Gayle: Social anxiety does not exactly read as a the prefect pretense for a banger pop song, but then again, Charli XCX has a certain gift for emotional subterfuge. 'Gone' is a collaboration between Charli and a more subdued pop star friend, Christine & the Queens. The two wrestle between seething anger at fake social niceties and and a deeper issue - the desire to be loved and seen, even if by a group of people you couldn't care less about. It's comforting to know that even a seasoned partygirl like Charli XCX can feel the same debilitating and restrictive sense of social "unbelonging" - a scene she depicts fairly literally in the accompanying music video which features her in bondage. The jump between this wallflower characteristic and the club-ready beat feels like a perfect metaphor for Charli's career and persona itself. As pop music evolves and begins to cater to an even more confessional and vulnerable audience of millennials, it makes sense its most forward thinking vanguards would keep the pace by divulging their deepest longing while also maintaining a danceable beat. [7]

Nortey Dowuona: Sharp, rubbery bass backflips, pirouettes and twists as soapy, seething synths and steel tipped drums shimmy across the shoulders as Christine and Charli spin through as they become intertwined as one. [8]

Wayne Weizhen Zhang: What's that? Charli XCX writing a song about loneliness and social anxiety -- but somehow making it work as a duet? More like Charli doing this again, except this time instead of ruminating about the cosmos, commiserating about lost love, or contemplating redemption, she and Chris are plotting their escape. They spend the entire track pouring gasoline on their worries and stresses, until 3:04, when they finally erupt into flames. And then they're literally gone, leaving behind only the glitched screaming ghosts of their pop consciousness, any chance at salvation vanishing with them. [8]

Jacob Sujin Kuppermann: Charli XCX's trajectory since the release of Pop 2 has been confusing. Over the past year and a half, she's released 15-or-so singles/features, running the gamut from remixes of experimental rappers to big shiny club collabs with Diplo, Lizzo, and Troye Sivan. It's largely been good material (save for that Diplo Spice Girls remix), but the songs have kind of felt like diversions from the goals set out by Pop 2's post-PC MUSIC synthesis of pop artifice into sincere emotion. This is entirely her right-- if Charli just remade Pop 2 until she retired, it wouldn't have the same deconstructive power it had when it first came out. Yet even the best of her singles from last year (songs like "5 in the Morning" and her remix of Tommy Genesis' "100 Bad") felt somewhat unambitious-- playgrounds in the wreckage of pop, rather than attempts to build a new level upon it. "Gone," then, is that new level. It's the best of all possible worlds: the shiny synths and hard-hitting rhythms of "Nuclear Seasons"-era Charli, the glitchy breakdowns of her PC Music collabs, and the open, collaborative feeling of her wilderness year. "Gone" encapsulates Charli's appeal in a compact 4 minute salvo, taking a conventional core lyrical concept-- dancing the social anxiety away-- and twisting it to her will. Chris makes for perhaps the best partner Charli's had on her pop mission: her voice is clearer and more sincere, the perfect tool to clear out any suggestion of irony. But Charli herself is the key to why "Gone" works. She's the glue that holds together the disjointed impulses of the track, like she always is, but here she's also constantly moving it forward. Her vocals here are perhaps the best they've ever sounded, aloof and emotive all at once, and the fragmented lyrical picture that she and Chris paint is vivid. It took her a while, but "Gone" reveals a revitalized Charli XCX, capable of pop mastery once again. [10]

Oliver Maier: "Gone"'s release feels timed to ensure that Pop 2 fans don't abandon hope for Charli's album after the disappointing "Blame It On Your Love", with metallic globs of bass and sparkling synth arpeggios hearkening back to the palette of the 2017 mixtape. However, it's actually Christine and the Queens who gives the stronger performance here; Charli excels in emotional extremes and bratty earworms, but the purgatorial feeling of anxiety that "Gone" reckons with -- as well as the song's cavernous arrangement and less immediate hook -- are better suited to Chris' subtler wheelhouse. The breakdown in the last minute is a little superfluous, more a signifier of a willingness to experiment than a successful experiment in and of itself, but "Gone" still provides a brighter forecast for Charli than we had a few weeks ago. [6]

Joshua Copperman: So I did the dumb remix thing again. The Katy Perry one was a reorder of different parts, but this one adds more instrumentation and a four-on-the-floor kick that takes Charli back to 2009 instead of 1999. Despite my favorite performance I've heard Christine give ("do they wish to run through mee," the plainspoken way she says "baby" just before the breakdown), and the clear vocal chemistry between her and Charli, this song has so much empty space when a melody like that requires bombast. That breakdown feels like someone trying to recreate NSYNC's "Pop" using "Call Your Girlfriend" samples on a broken MPC. Couple that with the ugly flanging on Charli and Christine's voices, and any momentum and goodwill feels squandered. "Gone" is so strong until that point that it's still extremely listenable, but extremely listenable feels disappointing when it's this close to being great. [7]

Kayla Beardslee: I can't think of a more appropriate artist to enter the "crying on the dance floor" pantheon than Charli XCX: pop's resident party girl saying that she "fucking hates" the people at this party is not an artistic confession to be taken lightly. Although the marketing for this track has been informed by the tired "most personal album yet" cliche, Charli has thankfully pulled off the introspective turn by maintaining her PC Music inspirations, metallic synths bouncing off the edges of the song and giving the message of grappling with anxiety some much-needed bite. The presence of a feature is another XCX signature, and Christine and the Queens is a welcome addition: for once, a Charli track clearly shows the collaborator's influence, in this case with its clipped melodies and off-kilter yet evocative lyrics. [8]

Will Rivitz: "Backseat," off 2017's Pop 2, cascaded into perfection on the strength of its final minute ripping the preceding three into shreds. "Gone," in doing exactly that again, but even more transcendentally sublimely this time (and with a transcendentally sublime beginning three-quarters to match, something its predecessor missed by a hair), is by extension better by about one degree. And I gave "Backseat" a [9], so... [10]

Joshua Lu: In light of the multitudinous takes on social anxiety pop stars have churned out in recent years, "Gone" feels surprisingly honest. Anxiety is seen as illogical (Charli's cry of "they don't care" seemingly comes out of nowhere, which is where these feelings often come from), shameful (the song opens with an apology), and maddening (the entirety of the prechorus and Christine's verse is filled with an untempered rage), and the song's unapologetic portrayal of these aspects acts as an effective catharsis. It hits harder when casted over the stutter-step instrumental, filled with uncomfortable white space and coarse industrial noises that put the listener on edge. [7]

Joshua Minsoo Kim: A song about being impossibly and destructively tired, so much so that one can't help but be vulnerable as a last ditch effort to maintain sanity. The production captures it perfectly: steely and anthemic and spacious, it encourages one to sing along in a sort of therapeutic karaoke session. The outro is a cute release--a moment to decompress by way of A.G. Cook's love for Scritti Politti. [7]

Michael Hong: Like the best Charli XCX tracks, "Gone" deals with solitude in crowded spaces, no matter the number of collaborators involved in the track. The industrial soundscape threatens to cave in at any moment -- something that fueled by the pair's anxieties does inevitably occur, and yet remains this moment of euphoric bliss. While Charli and Chris pose several questions across the track, none are really answered. Instead, the two end with a shared statement, "don't search me in here, I'm already gone, baby," and by tossing aside the anxiety of the party, the two find peace outside of the crowd. In a crowded field of tracks about wanting to leave the party, "Gone" is one of the most captivating because of Charli's introspection and ability to bring her dystopian future into the present. [7]

Kylo Nocom: This song is a fever dream of DJ Mustard stabs warped into freestyle-esque basslines, Jimmy Jam & Terry Lewis communicated through modernized rhythms. "Gone" shines in stark contrast to the notable collaboration Charli's done with a certain other '80s fanatic back in late 2017, substituting emotional atmospherics for feverish danceability. Charli's unstoppable pop glee is bared down to the essentials, stripped of the dumbness that felt defining of her singles the past two years; Christine's dense songwriting and anxious percussive affinities are polished up and displayed proudly here, with no signs of the occasionally campy production cheapness that defined her 2018 album's weaker missteps. "Gone" pays empathetic attention to the overstimulation some feel at huge parties, and the bouncing, metallic chorus shivers with a knowing sensory discomfort that eventually culminates in a gloriously alien glitch breakdown. [8]

Alex Clifton: A contender for Song of the Summer that isn't "Old Town Road" (which I love dearly but does not work on its own as a party playlist). Charli and Chris are always Interesting Artists, never boring and always looking forward, and this is a perfect marriage of their strengths and sounds. It has the electro production Charli favours but never gets too overwhelming; it has a good dose of Chris's quirk and gravitas but retains a lighter touch. Moreover it's just a fun song--I can only imagine what it was like to record this in the studio, and that enthusiasm spills over to the listener. Like Jane Austen's prose, "Gone" is complex and layered but performed with ease. It's one of the hardest tricks in the book, but Charli and Chris have absolutely nailed it. [8]

Iris Xie: "Gone" listens like the measured dissertation of an almost ideal pop song in a post-PC Music world that is more open about mental health, attachment trauma, and how it damages relationships. Out of the two, Letissier is the one who delivers the vocals with the exact emotion required to hit catharsis, due to her visceral and forceful cadence that is in tune with the chorus's frankness: "I feel so unstable, fucking hate these people / How they're making me feel lately." The post-chorus is beautiful though, with one of my favorite pop-R&B vocal tropes where they both catch on the fourth word of each line, "Why do we love--" before Charli and Letissier exhale with a sharp glide before jumping back into step with the stuttering beat, with "--if we're so mistaken?" Another treat is served with the sudden drop-off into "Why do we keep when the water runs? / Ne me cherche pas, je ne suis plus là, baby," a dreamy and sad breakdown that then breaks down into more jagged edges and clipped and chewed up repetitions. This song could only be written by people who love pop music so, so deeply that they have command of masterful hooks and turns of phrase and expectations. Unfortunately, I also don't like it as much as I should, because for all of what it does right, it still lacks dynamism and range to make it stick in a way that really makes me overjoyed for it, because I feel both of their solo work was a lot sharper and more evocative, and I find the sound more muddled here, even amongst all of their loving approaches. [7]

Katherine St Asaph: One of my favorite songs is The Tycho Brahe's "Steel Wheels," a song about defeat and cutting ties to pursue other defeat. "Gone" is a lot like that song, attached to a lesser song: yet another false, poppily marketed take on social anxiety. When I'm socially phobic, which is almost all the time, it's never "those people" I hate -- I don't hate anyone without a good reason, and doing so would just add guilt and make me feel worse -- but myself. It seems too simple to posit that one song is Chris's contribution and the other's Charli's, but more to the point, I actually can't tell which is whose. Neither artist seems fully themselves, vocally or stylistically. Chris's strengths are staccato lyrics and precise bits of introspection: needles to the exact point that hurts. Charli's strength is sweepingly cathartic songs, emotions hemorrhaging out of the music and the skin. "Gone" is the midpoint of those strengths, playing to neither. [6]

William John: A favourite moment of mine in the Christine and the Queens catalogue is early single "Nuit 17 à 52", which, in its English adaptation, features a speaker in a "lace-like" state of being, waiting "for the rain to come through". It's an image of defencelessness that's so brusque it requires gentle piano chords to soften the mood. Water provides no solace to the song's protagonist; the fifty-second, pivotal night of melodrama fails to leave her mind. This is an image Christine and the Queens returns to for her contribution to Charli XCX's new single - interviews have made it clear that she penned the chorus, but it's obvious to anyone familiar with the charming peculiarities of her brand of franglais. This time the punishment of water is accompanied by inquisition - the metaphor is not used as a mere acknowledgement of self-flagellating tendencies, but and a need to know why they might arise is attached. The contention is that in the quest to know more about oneself, water can be framed not as a suffocating force, but as one of cleansing and catharsis; that in daring to be vulnerable, we open ourselves up to freedom and greatness. Enlisting a partner-in-crime to assist with such a quest doesn't hurt, and there's been few moments in pop this year as thrilling as the way these two jointly bellow "loathe" before the song gives way to its chirpy coda, as together they will themselves toward liberation. [9]

Jackie Powell: The production on "Gone" matches the exact emotional plot of the song itself. The bass synths and percussive claps are accurately abrasive and in your face. The vocal performances that both XCX and Christine give are impassioned. While the chorus might be a bit muffled and not as enunciated as I would have liked, they achieve a goal that all artists should strive for⁠--the ability to transfer their emotions through their lyrics and sounds into the soul of the listener. The mixing from their chest into their head voices that both singers do on this track brings out some sort of euphoria in me. Charli's previous singles "1999" and "Blame it on Your Love" have been catchy, but maybe not as substantive as Charli stans have wanted. I understand her strategy. It reminds me of Carly Rae Jepsen's approach to how she released "Dedicated." Both artists released advance singles that were a bit lighter in content and sound. And then of course, we heard "No Drug Like Me". The third single put out to the world was the sucker punch, the sly off-speed pitch that hits right in zone after two high fastballs that don't quite elicit a flinch. The 52-second outro in "Gone" was confusing when I first heard it, and maybe it should be a tad shorter, but I finally understand the reason it exists to begin with. If you listen closely, Charli and Christine's voices sound as though they are gargling water or are putting their faces into the water that they are claiming is still running. They make their point though, we've got to question why the water is running and it's up to us to stop it. It's uncomfortable, but we have the power to stop it. [8]

[Read, comment and vote on The Singles Jukebox]

[nonbinarysasquatch]

An Argument for Rebecca Bunch’s Bisexuality:

So first things first: it should be clear that this post isn’t exploring whether Rebecca is intended to be seen as bi. It’s clear from Rachel and Aline’s comments, and Rebecca saying that she has certain bi tendencies in season 3 are just an exploration of sexual fluidity that Rebecca is not intended to be bi.

It’s also clear that a lot of the things related to Rebecca’s seeming queerness come from Rachel Bloom and I also want to be clear that this isn’t commenting on Rachel Bloom herself as she’s a real person and her business is her business.

This is purely examining why Rebecca can be read as being bi when only looking at the show itself.

In an interesting way, I think Rebecca seems the closest to the experiences of myself and other bi people I’ve known out all the characters. The other queer characters on the show largely eschew stereotypes, but if we ignore authorial intent, in a funny way Rebecca seems most the stereotypical in terms of a queer narrative. She seems a lot like a closeted bi woman who hasn’t broken through her own internalized biphobia.

The hints that Rebecca could be bi begin very early on, particularly in the first episode when she goes to the strip club to look for Josh. Rebecca is sitting right in front of a dancer (in the original pilot she apparently stuck her face in the dancer’s bare chest) and only vaguely seeming to look for Josh. Now, this could be read as Rebecca being in denial (as we know she is) but still… it’s a weird thing to do if you’re a straight woman. But admittedly, this is not out of character for Rebecca.

In the second episode, we are introduced to Josh’s girlfriend, Valencia Perez, who herself is confirmed to be a WLW in season 3. Rebecca, still very much in denial about her feelings for Josh, tries to befriend Valencia, inadvertently becoming the first woman Valencia has ever been able to be close to (and possibly helping to awaken her own queerness.)

Rebecca is clearly jealous of Valencia but also seems to genuinely like her and be attracted to her (keeping in mind “Feelin’ Kinda Naughty” was originally “I Want to Fuck You With My Jealousy Dick” before the show moved to the CW.) And obviously, Rebecca tries to make out with Valencia and is swiftly rebuffed (again, by a woman who herself will later realise her own attraction to women.)

Why does Rebecca do it? She wasn’t doing it to impress Josh, he was clearly uncomfortable with Rebecca and Valencia having anything to do with each other. Valencia wasn’t giving her any signs. And wanting to make out with someone isn’t a typical expression of jealousy. The simplest explanation is that Rebecca misread Valencia’s actions as evidence of attraction, and being impulsive and having boundary issues, Rebecca acted on it, probably with little thought to why she was doing it.

There’s not much for the rest of season 1. Rebecca spends most of season 1 dealing with her feelings for Josh and Greg. The big thing I would talk about though with season 1 is the ways that Rebecca and Darryl are paralleled (something deliberate on the part of the writers.) Both are lonely characters with identity problems. When it comes to loneliness, Darryl and Rebecca do act in similar ways, hatching schemes and even being in denial about their own stalking behaviour. Both can be inappropriate in their efforts to deal with their loneliness.

As far as identity issues goes, when faced with who she really is inside, Rebecca buries it (in season 2 outright expressing disgust for who she really is inside.) Darryl, on the other hand, quickly adapts to realising he’s bi, even proudly announcing it to his employees at work.

The show does other things to parallel Darryl and Rebecca. For instance, they both fall for men named Josh. Darryl even gets Rebecca’s heart flutter theme when he and WhiJo first kiss, something that is otherwise exclusively used for Josh Chan (until “Getting Over Jeff” when it’s used for Paula and Jeff.)

Another interesting level is that Maya is a character that mirrors Darryl. She is also bi and Darryl initially bullies her because she reminds him of himself, especially the parts of himself he doesn’t like.

In the first episode of season 2, one of Rebecca’s most bi moments happens and much like her kissing Valencia in season 1, it makes so little sense if she’s intended to be straight. I am naturally referring to her attempting to seduce Paula, literally feeling up Paula’s crotch with her foot, not even realising she was doing it. Then, having successfully convinced Paula to help her find Greg, Rebecca is clearly turned on by Paula’s hacking. Why? There’s no context for any of this ever given.

It’s not like Rebecca is super horny all episode long or something. Contrarily she has recently been having sex with Josh. It’s not as if there was some subplot about her being sex starved. Rebecca just inexplicably tries to seduce Paula, then gets horny from Paula’s actions and it’s not set up or brought up again.

Several episodes later, Rebecca tries to re-initiate her friendship with Valencia, erm, kidnapping her and taking her to Electric Mesa. Rebecca and Valencia take drugs (accidentally) and bond over both having gotten burned by Josh Chan. They pee on Josh’s equipment and Rebecca expresses excitement over the best part of the experience being that she and Valencia saw each other’s vaginas. And of course, in the tag we see Valencia, ask to see Rebecca’s vagina again. Valencia, who will later end up in a relationship with a woman…

Two episodes later and Rebecca and Valencia are still bonding, Valencia for the first time partaking in criminal shenanigans. Rebecca, apropos of nothing pretends she and Valencia are lesbians who are house shopping, even though no one is actually even around. It should be noted that at the end of the episode, Valencia decides she needs to get laid, picking up a guy at the bar, disappointing Rebecca. Valencia at this time obviously hasn’t embraced her queerness (in fact that’s something that we never really get to see, since it happens in the time jump.)

The rest of season 2, mostly has Rebecca dealing with Josh and Nathaniel, but there is a tiny beat in the video for “So Maternal” when Rebecca imagines two grown women breastfeeding from her. Objectively, this an odd thing for a straight woman to imagine herself doing.

Season 3 is possibly a bit lighter on these Rebecca moments of apparent bisexuality. I’m admittedly in the middle of my current rewatch so I only have notes for the first half of season 3 to look at it.

But obviously, the show for the first time directly acknowledges Rebecca’s apparently bi-curiosity, when Stacy misunderstands, thinking that Rebecca is bi and possibly seducing her. Rebecca denies that she’s bi but backtracks a little and clarifies that she does have certain bi tendencies, saying she’s a 1.8 on the Kinsey Scale. Now obviously, the Kinsey Scale is a very, very outdated model, but even taking the model as it is and looking at Rebecca’s behaviour, a 1.8 seems a bit low.

A point of interest is obviously Valencia ending up in a relationship with another woman. It’s impossible to look at Valencia’s queer narrative and not talk about Rebecca. Rebecca was the first woman she has ever loved. The show makes it abundantly clear how much Rebecca means to Valencia, not only via her outburst in “Josh is Irrelevant” but simply in the number of times Valencia forgives Rebecca. Rebecca has given Valencia every reason to give up on her but Valencia cares enough to remain her friend.

Rebecca is a part of Valencia’s queer narrative. That much is incontrovertible.

The final point I would make about Rebecca really relates to what it can be like to come to your bisexuality (or any sexuality really.) In general, even now, we still live in a culture that is very homophobic and particularly biphobic (which are related things, but biphobia has threads in both other queer people and straight people as well.)

I didn’t wake up one day and realise I was a bi. There was some denial and personal dismissal. I was a teenager in the 90s and back then most people didn’t think of bisexuality as a real thing. So when you are confused because you feel this other thing but are afraid of it because what if it means everything you know is wrong… it’s weird. And it’s easy to dismiss it.

Personally, I was in a relationship for most of my 20s that kept my sexuality (and gender issues) buried. I knew they were there but I chose to believe they weren’t significant or important. And I thought, well, maybe it just isn’t strong enough to call myself bi. I was aware of sexual fluidity. It took time to even let myself explore it.

Rebecca has spent her entire life seeking male attention, obviously eschewing close female relationships until she came to West Covina (and I’m not even going to touch on the DELIBERATE romantic parallels they do with Paula and Rebecca here.)

To me, Rebecca Bunch, regardless of intention, feels like a bi narrative. Will there be any payoff? Unlikely. And hey, this show has done a lot for the bisexual community (literally gifting us with an anthem) and it has multiple bi characters (though I do think readings for Valencia’s sexuality are still open as long as they don’t label her.) So it’s not like I’m going to be pissed and the fact that they even took the time to acknowledge Rebecca’s bisexual tendencies as being a real thing and not just a joke is kind of remarkable.

But it’s not going to be explicit canon. Rachel and Aline don’t think Rebecca is bi. But I certainly do.

[godaddywebsitebuilder285]

Building the Woke Web: Web Accessibility, Inclusion & Social Justice

What would your life be like without the internet? Not if it didn’t exist at all, but if you were locked out of it? Would your days be different? Unrecognizable, even? Keeping your answers to that in mind, do you think access to the internet is a human right? Do we need to be able to access it to fully participate in modern society? To answer “yes” to these questions would have been unthinkable 20 years ago.

Living without internet

Globally, over 40% of people still do not have access to the internet. That lack of access and the issues it creates have helped motivate digital equity initiatives like Tech Goes Home and the Good Things Foundation.

Having no access to the internet creates problems in many parts of modern life. In the UK, bank branches are closing, forcing many to do their banking online. Many utilities now require internet access to request or amend services, or get better deals. Civil services, such as registering to vote, are increasingly online. As this continues, people who have no access to broadband or who have limited access to mobile data fall behind—this often includes homeless people, elderly people, and those on low incomes who are already operating at a disadvantage.

In the UK, only 37% of people living in social housing are online. Approximately 1 in 5 adults with a disability in the UK have not used the internet recently, and they make up half of the people who have not accessed the internet in the last three months. Globally, the UN target for affordable mobile data is 2% of monthly income for 1GB data, and yet many countries are still nowhere near reaching this goal. Not having access to the internet is expensive, locking you out of essential services and a surfeit of helpful information. Giving people full access to the splendors and knowledge of the online world should be imperative for everyone who works on it.

Digital exclusion is when someone is unable or unwilling to access information and services online. In the UK, 10% of the adult population was digitally excluded in 2018. The number of people in the UK lacking basic digital skills is decreasing, but in 2018, 8% of adults in the UK (4.3 million people) were estimated to have zero basic digital skills, which means they are unable to do things like buy items online, verify information, or send an email. Women are more likely to have no basic digital skills. 

Being unable to send an email, submit an application online, or use a government site is a huge barrier to civic and societal engagement. Shopping in person, rather than online, can mean you are consistently overcharged for your purchase by as much as 13%. Not knowing how to use computers can mean you earn less in the first place. Not being able to use the internet can mean that you spend more time doing tasks such as registering to vote, paying council tax in the UK, or researching your next holiday. 

Being able to access the internet has social and psychological ramifications too. Loneliness is well documented as a risk factor for a number of health issues, as well as early death. Being online can help you feel less alone. Half of all people with disabilities surveyed report feeling lonely in the UK, and a quarter of them are lonely every day. People with disabilities are more likely to be a captive audience to apps and websites using their data inappropriately or engaging in other unethical practices. This may be because they rely on a particular site to interact with other people with disabilities, because they lack the tools to visit other sites, or lack other suitable websites or apps to use.

Richer households are more likely to have full basic digital skills. The UK Office for National Statistics found that people without basic digital skills are three times as likely to be in low-income bands. In 2018, 12% of 11-to-18-year-olds had no broadband access on a tablet or computer, which 68% of them said made it difficult to do homework. Further, households in which one or more of their members have a disability make up half of those living in poverty in the UK.

Provide non-online options for vital services

If you work in government, food supply, healthcare, or utilities, there is no excuse for not providing offline options. In doing so you are excluding some of the most marginalized people. The internet is amazing, but it is not the only way to share information.

A non-exhaustive list of other barriers

Having access to the internet in the first place is one issue, and feeling welcome, or even safe is quite another. Even when your broadband connection is as good as can be hoped for, there are many other ways you can be discouraged or stopped from using the internet.

Trolling and threats

Online harassment is one of many barriers stopping people from accessing the internet. Diane Abbott, the first black woman Member of Parliament (MPs) in the UK, received almost half (45.14%) of all abusive tweets sent to female MPs in the run-up to the 2017 General Election that decided how voters would be represented in Parliament and which party would govern. Black and Asian women MPs got 35% more abusive tweets than white women MPs. The abuse directed at Dianne Abott amounted to 10 times as much as was received by any other female MP, according to an Amnesty International study.

Mermaids is a charity that supports transgender children and their parents in the UK. Their CEO Susie Green—herself the parent of a transgender child—has been targeted with abuse and threats. The rise in abusive and threatening comments led to Mermaids’ Twitter account having to block up to 20 accounts a day.

Trolling isn’t an easy problem to fix. Allowing users to block certain words and hide certain replies on Twitter is a start, but listening to people from marginalized backgrounds and their complaints and ideas would be another critical place to begin. 

We need to think long and hard about what good moderation looks like and what guidelines work in online spaces to ensure those accessing them don’t have to wade through a tide of bigotry.

Sidelining and hiding certain groups

Information and support online are vital for at-risk LGBT people, whether to help them escape dangerous situations, access support, or find community. Yet in schools, words relating to LGBT issues are often blocked. On YouTube, videos relating to LGBT issues are demonetized, age-restricted, or even removed. This isn’t because the content is sexually explicit or not safe for work. It’s just discrimination. TikTok recently admitted it actively discriminates against certain kinds of users—namely the fat, queer, disabled, low-income, and “ugly”—in certain feeds, under the guise of paternalistic protection from bullying.

Exclusionary design

People with disabilities are the original life hackers because our motivation is so high. If we don’t hack we often go without.

Liz Jackson, “Designing for Inclusivity”

Many people with disabilities rely on screen readers and screen reader compatible sites to use the internet. Screen readers can be prohibitively expensive; while there are free options, one of the most popular screen readers at the time of writing costs nearly $1200 for a professional license. Even with incredible innovation coming from within the disabled community, there’s more that everyone else can do. In their February 2020 evaluation, WebAIM found that 98.1% of the top million websites had detectable WCAG (Web Content Accessibility Guidelines) 2 errors.

The most common WCAG 2 failures—such as missing alt text for images, having empty links, and missing form labels—would be relatively simple to fix. Because they’re shared among most websites, concentrating on fixing them would have a huge overall benefit for the internet. But as long as web accessibility standards are applied without rigor, aspects of a vast number of sites remain inaccessible even once users have a screen reader or other assistive technology.

Hostile conditions

Inclusion is just as pertinent as accessibility, and tackling only one side of the equation will leave some people just as locked out. Accessibility without inclusion is not real accessibility. The curb cut effect, wherein improving access for people with disabilities improves access for all, isn’t the only reason to increase web accessibility. We have a moral responsibility as tech workers to use any privilege we may have to facilitate, respond to, and support the efforts of marginalized people who are working to carve out accessible spaces for themselves.

Hostile conditions, created or reinforced by engineering and design choices, make being on the internet harder for people who are queer, of color, or disabled. They make it more difficult to access life-saving spaces, social spaces, and civic spaces—both on and offline. Thorough accessibility and real inclusion are the solutions to these problems. To survive, marginalized people must work both against and through the abuse and accessibility issues they face on online platforms, whereas everyone else gets to use the internet as they wish. This replicates the injustices of offline in the online world.

An incomplete list of solutions

Center the voices and experiences of the marginalized

There isn’t one easy solution but to start finding the solutions that are possible we need to center the voices and experiences of the marginalized. Marginalized people with insights to share aren’t hard to find when you start listening. They are your next users, your future developers, your fledgling marketing team. Excluding them reduces your options, your appeal, and your breadth of ideas.

Hire teams that are diverse on every axis

Hiring inclusively creates teams full of people who aren’t like you or each other. And those kinds of teams build better products, bring better ideas to the table, and better reflect the user base of the majority of products. It is important to remember that diversity isn’t just about race or hiring women; there are neurodiverse people, people with physical disabilities, people of other genders, people from various backgrounds, and many other marginalizations than could be listed here.

Proactively promote inclusion and harness your team’s diversity

Help disabled and otherwise marginalized people both develop and enforce policies and practices that protect them and allow them to thrive. If there are no disabled people, or otherwise marginalized or underrepresented people on your team, take a hard look at your hiring practices, your work culture, even the layout of your office. If you can’t find these problems, hire experts. Pay specialist consultants and recruiters to root out the problems. This is an investment that makes moral, logical, and business sense. The inclusive team you build will be able to spot potential issues in a way that a squad of people who pattern match to narrow ideas of what a tech worker should look and behave like never would. Create a culture where the marginalized members of your team feel supported, feel heard, and are buoyed through their work with a sense of safety in their workplace.

Avoid legal issues preemptively

Beyonce and Domino’s Pizza were both sued under the Americans with Disabilities Act, which contains provisions to force the companies involved to change their websites. Beyonce’s case is still in progress, but Domino’s both lost their suit and had their appeal tossed out. Both cases were about visually impaired people being unable to access their sites and complete purchases. Accessibility is often seen as a costly detour from the “real work” of building projects, but that has never and will never be true. You want users, and users of all stripes want to use your products.

The banks HSBC, Metro Bank, and Halifax made it hard for visually impaired users to access all of their services online. When HSBC was told they had made it difficult for a user with visual impairments to access bank statements, they replied, “don’t worry, we’ll send you a video.” The Equality Act 2010 in the UK means that these users can sue. In addition to serving the far more important goal of providing people with disabilities equal access, embracing inclusive design from the outset would have saved these companies time while enhancing their trust among the public rather than putting it at risk. Fixing the content is usually much cheaper for the organization than fighting the matter in court.

Advocate for accessibility and inclusivity in any way you can, be it big or small

Caption your videos, Instagram content, Facebook photos, Twitter photos, conference and meetup talks, etc. Make information needed to access your product or service available in multiple formats. Speak up against problems in your workplace; if an internal hiring tool is hard for you to use, it is hard for others. If one of your websites has errors from WCAG 2’s list, advocate for taking time to fix it. If the gender options available on forms are “man,” “woman,” and “other,” speak up yourself, tell your manager, question whether you need to collect gender information at all. Don’t stay silent.

Test your website with tools, devices, and real end users

Run tools like axe, ChromeLens, and Lighthouse during your build processes. Do manual testing with the actual devices that are used by your end-users, and test with real users with access requirements. If you’re a team of one or a few, ensure that you run these tools from MVP to finished product—the errors that are the easiest to catch and fix will mostly be caught by automated tools, and they are a great start for learning more about accessibility. Websites such as The A11y Project compile resources, and there are other websites, Slack groups, Twitter accounts, and newsletters that are also incredibly helpful for answering any questions. The automated tools will give you the keywords to search for.

Working towards an accessible, inclusive internet

Web accessibility is not an optional extra. What inclusion looks like in practice will depend on your products, your users, and what you intend to achieve, but for it to be real and meaningful in any context, it cannot be an afterthought. Engineering that makes inclusion an afterthought is engineering that operates without morality and in doing so actively enacts harm. The fact that this kind of engineering is commonplace on the internet doesn’t make it OK. It just highlights that the way we have built the web is fundamentally broken. We can do better.

“Wokeness,” at least as conceived by those divorced from the black experience and AAVE, isn’t a great concept. The way it is used in popular culture makes it sound as if being a good person is a switch you flip on and off; you’re woke or ’sleep. But wokeness is not the end state, it’s the beginning of a journey. All the tenets of intersectional feminism, web accessibility, and diversity and inclusion are inextricably tied up in making the web a better place, for all and by all. Access to the internet is essential. Staying woke, and acting on that wokeness, is what will lead us to a better internet for everyone.

[princepestilence]

all of the evens!

Oh, wow, okay. This is way more than I was expecting, so I hope you don’t mind, but I’ll pick the ones I like best and answer those. 

What’s your “type”?  

This is maybe the most difficult question to answer! I don’t think I have a type, so much as a whole jumble of traits I find attractive. I also think that’s normal and that having a distinct “type” is… kind of a weird concept. 

Something I would really like in someone, though, is a bit of whimsy. More than anything else, I think my heart really wants someone who will yes, and in the adventure of my life. Someone clever, and confident, and interesting, and kind.  

If you do [want kids], will you adopt or use some other form of child birth?

I don’t want kids, and I never have. I suspect that’s one of the reasons why I’m drawn to teaching: it’s a parenting substitute, sort of? But if for some reason I change and I felt my family was incomplete without a kid to care for (although I don’t think that’s ever going to be a strong feeling for me? it hasn’t been so far), I would consider fostering or adoption. I’m uncomfortable with the idea of bringing another person into the world at this stage. I think there is a duty of care towards people who are already here and making a child, when there’s so many kids already alive without stable homes, feels sort of… wrong, given the state of the world and the uncertainty of our future. Maybe that’s just because I think genetic relatedness is greatly overrated. I’ve also been editing an academic book on IVF and other assisted birth technology for the last eight months or so and now I know more than I ever thought I’d know on that front, and some of it is horrible. 

Opinion on nap dates?

It depends! Dating someone–especially at the start–is about getting to know that person, and so if the choice was between going for a walk together, or playing a game, or going to see a movie and then out to dinner afterwards, or having a nap together, I’d pick the nap as the option I’m least interested in. That’s not to say you can’t go for a walk and then come home for a nap (that sounds nice). But the idea of a date that’s mostly sleeping is boring to me, and a waste of an opportunity. If I like someone, I actually want to spend time with them and talk to them as much as possible. Their company is precious to me. Once you’re more comfortably together, that’s the right time for sleeping and more casually enjoying being in each other’s space. 

What’s a turn off you look for before you start officially dating someone?

I’ve had an unfortunate track record with some of the people who’ve been attracted to me in the past, so these days I’m pretty wary when people I don’t know well already are into me. The big flag I look out for now is how well they handle boundaries–in setting their own and respecting mine. If someone’s too quick to overshare details or seek emotional support (especially through self-deprecating talk) or in any way makes me feel grabbed at and claustrophobic, my new rule is to bolt at once. 

What is a piece of advice you would give to your younger self?

1. You don’t owe people your time, your attention, or your warmth, just because they’re lonely and sad and you’re there and don’t know how to say no. 

2. You can’t save anyone. 

3. If your time with someone leaves you hungrier for love than your time alone, something is very wrong. Things won’t get better. There is no better place waiting for you here. Winter will last until the end of time once you’ve shown you can live on nothing but winter. 

4. You deserve more than scraps of love. 

Who is one person you would “go straight” for?

I’m not… interested in straight people, actually. Everyone I’ve ever been interested in has been queer, often without me finding out until sometime after I’ve developed feelings for them (or, in the case of people who I never found out for sure, they were significantly enough queer-coded for me to make an educated guess). Bi people are often have to describe their attractions by gender–i.e., attracted to male, female, and other–but that’s not especially accurate or useful in my opinion, because for me, gender is defined in my orientation by inconsistency. There’s no pattern, no real relevance. Gender is like eye colour, or height. But queerness is something that’s shown up in every single person I’ve liked. So, basically, straightness/non-queerness is itself a turn off. Even when I’m with a girl, we’re both queer and that’s a feature of the attraction and relationship, not a coincidence.

Are you out? If so, how did you come out?

I’m not not-out. I live the way I want: I paint my nails, I wear earrings, I’m growing my hair long, I wear what I want to wear and what I feel good in. When I’m in a friendly group and we’re talking and the topic of queer stuff comes up, I’ll weigh in and share what I think, if I have any thoughts or observations. If someone mentions that someone is good-looking and I think so too, I’ll agree with them. I live as myself, which is to say, queerly. 

But I don’t preface anything I say or do with, “As a queer guy,” and I don’t describe myself as bi (except when talking with all my bi friends), because I prefer never to have to make like, a mission statement about who I am. I don’t like that “coming out” is for straight people’s benefit. I don’t like that there’s a culture of expectation that queer people have to announce their existence to exist in straight vision. I am already out and about in the world. I’m not hiding anything. 

There’s no such thing as one coming out event, unfortunately. It’s a lifelong series of coming outs, to everyone you meet. I’ve chosen not to do that, in every way I can. Straight people can speculate as much as they like, but that’s their choice. I’m just existing. If they want to make it into a puzzle to solve, so be it. Maybe in the future I’ll feel differently about this, but right now, I resent the entire concept of “coming out” and I like people being uncertain about me.  

What is a piece of advice for people who may not be in a safe place to express their sexuality?

You have time. Straight culture has a series of romantic milestones and pretends that this is normal and attainable for everyone, but it’s not. Queer people don’t have the same freedom to talk about their crushes in high school, or explore their identity, or practice “going out” before starting university or whatever comes next after graduation. It’s harder to find people–let alone people you really like and connect with–and the options open to straight people for meeting up, flirting, dating, hooking up, asking people out, whatever else, don’t always feel safe for us. It’s wrong. But it’s also not the end. Life’s not over for you, just because you haven’t been able to follow the straight path. 

You might not get a chance to date someone until you’re in your twenties, and that’s okay. You might not have your first kiss until you go to university. It’s not a big deal. Straight culture obsesses over the idea of being “pathetic” for not doing certain things by certain times in your life, but that–like most straight culture things–is self-destructive, harmful nonsense. Your milestones will be sacred to you whenever they happen. Please endure until you reach them. Don’t let fear and loneliness trick you into reckless, desperate, or unsafe decisions either, because fear that something won’t happen only lasts until it does happen but regret over something you did can last forever after. 

I know that finding the love you’re looking for can feel impossible. But the way I see it is this: you’re going to live anyway, so you might as well live in hope.