Can we talk about the word Ally? I'm here for what it means, but all I can think of is the bank. I mean I'll take it, but thought it could use some word exploration to see if there’s one more suitable that fits the sentiment better.
A search of the thesaurus netted out in nada. Join, pool, fuse, amalgamate. Erm, no. So then I searched supporter. Comrade is too Russian. Proponent is boring. Champion sounds like allies did something when they're actually supporting from the sidelines. Advocate- too legal sounding. And also boring. By the time I got to well-wisher I knew that, at least at this point in time, there's no word to describe it. So, as of now- ally it is, which I'm happy to be.
During Pride this year I reflected once again on my identity. Kinda like a check in I guess. But nope, nothing’s changed of course. I'm a straight woman. I know, I know- people tell me all the time I'm queer. And the people who've said it I respect and value their opinion- yet they insist. But I hold my ground and I'll tell you why.
Growing up I never had one thought questioning my gender or sexual identity. I knew my identity from day one. I was a dansuer. For reals, ballet aside, my early writing is obsessively about dance. I just carried on doing my thing in the 80’s and 90’s unaware of what I know now. Which are the extraordinary struggles of friends and those I don't even know. And their stories and journeys blow my mind. That while I was working through much less complex issues that my future queer and trans friends were dealing with ones that are intrinsically entwined in their DNA.
And it's not like I was obtuse to gay culture. I grew up with two gay uncles- by marriage, who were fundamentally influential in my life. Grant and Robbie. Robbie is my Uncle’s brother. And Grant was his partner. I say was because Grant is the first person I loved who died. And he died of AIDS. Grant was one of the biggest supporters of my dancing. When my family was tight on money and ballet school tuition was up, Grant offered to pay. He was the Director of Music Hall Detroit. And the performances I got to see!! And the balcony box seats and the access. Grant was a beautiful soul. And I was truly fortunate that in the days of 80s-90s AIDS misinformation that my mom was happy for me to visit him, which I'm incredibly grateful for. And the rest of my family was also blasé about the faygeles. It just didn't matter.
Sometimes I think of my scenario and think, I wasted a gay 'ol opportunity. Someone could have had it so good. It's like I wanna swap out with my friends at that point in time, but not really. But it's not a waste, that decision is not up to me. It's in my DNA.
As I've grown and learned of triumphant and sometimes heartbreaking stories, I know that's something I can't identify with on my journey. So when I've had these deep discussions about my identity I always stand firm. I understand the points of my friends who say I'm queer because of my manner of thinking and doing and being so deeply immersed in the community.
But when I think about all those stories, I respect the people who struggled to find themselves in the LGBTQIA+ beautiful spectrum and I'm simply not the same.
Now, I know it's not my decision to determine the definition of queer. That's for the community to decide. But my Tovah frame of reference and dictionary might as well be etched in stone.
Being queer adjacent is beautiful. Hmmm, queer adjacent vs Ally? No, that'll never catch on.