What is Queer joy and why does it matter?
In this column series, I have written about a lot of unpleasant topics impacting queer and trans people, such as the homophobia and transphobia we experience regularly.
It is important to talk about the awful things happening to the trans community locally and globally, but it is equally important to share stories about queer and trans joy. When all we talk about is trauma, trauma becomes our story. But trans people are more than our traumas. And most of us lead rich and fulfilling lives despite experiencing trauma.
What makes trans joy special?
Everyone has things that bring them joy. We all have things that make us happy or give us feelings of satisfaction. Maybe it is a hobby, a favourite book or movie, laughing with our friends and family, playing with our children, or cuddling with our dogs. Maybe it’s watching your favourite sports team win a game or seeing your child master a new skill, or even putting on a favourite sweater in the fall can provide a warm, fuzzy feeling deep inside.
For trans folks, when the things that bring us this feeling of happiness and comfort also happen to be related to queerness or transness, there is an extra bit of joy. Maybe it is because we so rarely see positive depictions of ourselves. Maybe it is because it represents an important part of our lives that can be quite controversial or contentious in so many situations. Regardless, it brings those warm fuzzy feelings of comfort to another level.
When I talk about gender, I often compare it to wearing pants: If the sex you were assigned at birth fits you properly, you barely think about it, even though it is always there and noticeable to anyone who sees you. In this sense, it is just like putting on a comfortable pair of well-fitting pants — you barely notice them once they’re on, even though they are clearly there to anyone who looks at you.
But if they don’t fit right — if they are too big or too small or itchy or full of holes — they may be the only thing you notice, and the moment that you take them off or replace them with a pair that fits perfectly brings extra relief.
What does queer joy look like?
One of the simplest examples of queer joy is seeing trans people simply existing in the media — not in a story about a trans person coming out, about the transphobia they have experienced, or where they die at the end (which is an incredibly common trope), but a story where a trans character does the same things as the cis characters.
These are stories where their transness is no more important to the storyline than the sexes of Jean-Luc Picard as he captains a spaceship or Katniss Everdeen as she saves the world. There is definitely a place in the media for coming out stories, but there also needs to be a place where trans people get to navigate high school or solve mysteries.
Trans characters must also be played by trans actors. Trans bodies and trans voices need to have the space to exist and speak for themselves on screen, to tell their own stories. Allowing a cis man to take the part of a trans woman reinforces the myth that trans women are just men in costumes, acting the part of a woman.
There are a lot of trans actors out there, and allowing trans women to play the roles of trans women helps reinforce that they are women. Heck, why not cast trans actors in cis roles? It makes all trans people feel that much more seen.
Outside of popular culture, trans joy can be as simple as seeing an ‘All Genders’ sign on a washroom, passing another trans person living openly in a public space, or seeing new queer friendly spaces like a queer bowling league or a local cafe with a rainbow flag in the window, all of which are reminders that I am not alone.
Finding clothes that fit my body shape and gender at the same time can make my entire week. Or finding the perfect craft project — I’m currently working on a drag outfit encompassing a rainbow knit vest, hat, gloves, leg warmers, and suit tails, every piece of which makes me laugh because of how ridiculous it is when it is worn all together. When I wear the hat outside, it also makes other queer folks smile as we pass, like a beacon of queer joy.
Why does queer joy matter?
A few years ago, I was at my hairstylist’s (yes, I was getting my hair dyed blue because sometimes it is OK to lean into the stereotypes), and there was a woman sitting at the chair next to me. Her stylist asked her about her kids and she spoke awkwardly about her child. Halfway through the sentence, she broke down in tears and said, “My daughter thinks she’s a boy now.” My hairstylist left me alone with this mother and we talked for some time.
This mother did not dislike trans people, but she was familiar with how our lives are depicted in the media — she was just worried about her child. She thought that, as a trans person, her child would not finish school or get a good job or find an apartment or a partner or have a family.
So we talked. I told her about my own life and about some of my trans friends. Yes, most of us experience violence, but we also experience so much joy. I told her I was a doctor and a standup comedian, and that I have two wonderful children.
I told her about my friends, including a Juno-winning musician, social workers, parents, and so much more. And I explained how great it feels when we get together at Pride events and are able to truly be ourselves without judgment. I explained the concept of trans joy.
As we finished our haircuts, she told us about her son; about what he was going to dress up as for Halloween and about funny things that he had said. Seeing her talk about him in that way still brings me joy. I hold this memory close after seeing transphobia on the news or social media because positive stories are so badly needed right now.
When we only see depictions of stigma, our stories become stigmatized. When our stories centre around our trauma, the world sees us as traumatized people. And that can make our lives harder because our families and friends worry more about how the world will treat us. When we see ourselves going about daily life, laughing, accomplishing things and even flying spaceships or going on adventures, the world starts to see us as people. Depictions of trans joy are not only more honest, but they can show others (and remind ourselves) that we can live long and happy lives as our authentic queer and trans selves.
Dr. Laur O'Gorman (they/them) is the co-chair of Fierté Sudbury Pride, former professor of Women, Gender and Sexuality studies, parent, writer, and activist. They currently work in the field of mental health. Let Me Be Perfectly Queer is a monthly column about issues that impact 2SLGBTQ+ people in Sudbury as well as their friends, family, neighbours and co-workers; why queer issues matter to everybody. O’Gorman uses the word “queer” as an umbrella term that includes understandings of gender, sexuality, romance, and families outside of what is most common in our culture. If you have any questions relating to 2SLGBTQ+ issues, please send them to [email protected].
