Greater social acceptance and more LGBTQ+ representation in culture, such as the Netflix series Heartstopper and Sex Education, are making it easier for young people to be open about their sexuality and identity.
Despite this, some people still don’t come out until their late 20s, 30s or later. If you are in this position, you may feel like you are “behind” younger people who are openly LGBTQ+. But you are not alone. Coming out is a process that unfolds over time, and may take longer for some than for others.
An LGBTQ+ person first has to recognise and accept their sexual orientation or gender identity, before making decisions about whether, when, and how to tell others. The time it takes to fully understand and accept your sexuality or gender and be ready to disclose it to others can vary considerably.
You may know that you are LGBTQ+ from a young age, or this self-discovery may happen later in life. You may experience fluidity in your sexuality or gender identity, whereby your identity may shift over time.
If you identify as bisexual or non-binary, you may face additional challenges such as feeling misunderstood or pressure to “pick a side”, due to limited social understanding and stereotypes that these identities are “just a phase”.
If you are in your 20s or 30s, you may have received relatively little LGBTQ+ inclusive relationship and sex education (RSE) at school. In the UK, you may have been at school under section 28 which prohibited the “promotion” of homosexuality. The chilling effect of this law persisted even after its repeal in 2003, with many educators cautious about openly discussing LGBTQ+ topics.
If you are from a conservative religious or cultural background, you may be dealing with anti-LGBTQ+ attitudes in your family or community. This can lead to internalised stigma, shame and delayed self-acceptance. Research suggests that people from ethnic minority communities may have culturally specific challenges.
Coming out also isn’t one time event. You might choose different levels of openness depending on the context and may be more out in some spheres of life than others. You might be “out” to friends before telling family. It is also not always a linear process. Some people may “go back into the closet” due to negative reactions, experiences or social stigma.
My research with colleagues at Coventry University into so-called “conversion therapy” found that people who had been subjected to efforts to change their sexuality reported that they were discouraged from telling others they were LGBTQ+. Many also said that it negatively affected their mental health and delayed their self-acceptance.
It can take time to undo years of internalised stigma and shame, so be kind to yourself. Remember that negative thoughts and feelings about being LGBTQ+ are often rooted in messages from your social environment, not a reflection of your intrinsic worth.
Challenges and benefits of coming out later
While societal acceptance has progressed, coming out in your quarter life can present unique challenges. You may fear, for example, that it will impact relationships and friendships that you have established over many years.
If you are with a heterosexual partner in early adulthood, breaking the news to them and any children from the relationship can be particularly challenging.
On the other hand, coming out later may give you the benefit of a more developed understanding of yourself, and greater interpersonal skills gained from more life experience. You may also have more independence from your parents, which can help if they have a negative reaction.
It’s never too late to live as your authentic self.
How important is coming out?
Research suggests that living authentically is generally associated with greater psychological wellbeing. But coming out is an individual choice and no one should be pressured to disclose their LGBTQ+ status to others, particularly if it may put your safety at risk. LGBTQ+ people may be at risk of “honour”-based violence or forced marriage in some communities.
Meanwhile, concealing your identity can have complex mental health implications. While it might protect you from discrimination, keeping your authentic self a secret can be a significant source of stress.
If you are newly learning about your sexuality, identifying as LGBTQ+ or thinking about coming out, finding peer support can be helpful. You may want to join an LGBTQ+ group in your community or online, confide in a trusted person or seek support from a professional or an LGBTQ+ charity.
No one can tell you how to identify or whether you should come out, but they may help you to clarify your sense of self, explore the pros and cons of coming out and help you navigate the process.
Remember, your loved ones may experience a range of emotions when you come out to them. Give them time and space to process their own feelings. While their initial reaction might not be what you hope for, it doesn’t define your future relationship. With time to adjust, your relationship may even grow stronger.
Everyone’s journey is unique, and deciding whether and when to come out should be guided by personal comfort and safety. Ultimately, there’s no right time to come out, and it’s never too late to live authentically.
— The half-male half-female Green Honeycreeper joins the ranks of genderqueer lionesses, the “Leaping Lesbian Lizard,” and other “drag queens in the sky.”
Hamish Spencer, zoologist and Distinguished Professor at the University of Otago, was on holiday in Colombia when ornithologist John Murillo drew his attention to a striking bird at a bird-feeding station in a nature reserve. Save for a few feathers here and there, this Green Honeycreeper seemed to be neatly divided down its middle with brilliant blue plumage – resembling males of the species – on its right side, and green plumage – observed in females – on its left. The two watched this bird between the end of 2021 and mid-2023, observing its behavior in relation to other members of its species. As their report notes, this bird is only the second example of “bilateral gynandromorphism” in this species – a trait where animals present with both male and female characteristics in species that usually have distinct sexes.
This “extremely rare,” half-male and half-female bird soon made headlines. After all, it was the first record of this phenomenon in this species in over a 100 years. But this sighting also reiterated what some scientists have long been pointing to – that our understanding of sex as a biological binary of male and female may, in fact, be a simplistic reduction of a far more complex reality.
“Many birdwatchers could go their whole lives and not see a bilateral gynandromorph in any species of bird,” Spencer said in a statement. While considered rare, this trait has previously been observed in spiders, bees, butterflies, lizards, and stick insects among others. Scientists have also found these seemingly gender binary-defying individuals in other bird species, such as the northern cardinal (a non-binary icon, according to X) and the rose-breasted grosbeak. The northern cardinal even inspired Pattie Gonia, an environmental drag activist, to create a look based on it. “We see queerness and gender queerness demonstrated in birds like the [chimera] cardinal so vividly… Birds are drag queens in the sky,” Gonia told Audobon Magazine.
In its most simplistic form, sex in humans seems to hinge upon the presence or absence of the Y chromosome, which determines the reproductive organs one possesses. Sex, according to this understanding, casts individuals as either male or female and is one of the foundational pillars upon which our society has been constructed – prescribing roles, granting opportunities, and determining whose rights are championed and whose sidelined. But several scientists have pointed out that sex as a binary is false. Arthur Arnold, a biologist at the University of California, Los Angeles, told Scientific American in 2018, “The main problem with a strong dichotomy is that there are intermediate cases that push the limits and ask us to figure out exactly where the dividing line is between males and females… And that’s often a very difficult problem, because sex can be defined a number of ways.” That is, sex in humans (as in animals) is far more complex.
Agustín Fuentes, a professor of anthropology at Princeton University, pointed to emerging research data that shows how binary explanations of human sex “are either wholly incorrect or substantially incomplete.” Biology has been wielded as a tool to exclude queer people. Fuentes writes, “Given what we know about biology across animals and in humans, efforts to represent human sex as binary based solely on what gametes one produces are not about biology but are about trying to restrict who counts as a full human in society.”
Look to the natural world and countless examples emerge to challenge the fallacies around sex, gender and sexuality. These examples call into question what humans have long considered “natural.” It is an idea inherent in the field of queer ecology that draws upon the ecofeminist movement and expands it beyond binary thinking, instead championing a more fluid and diverse understanding of the world, and our relationship with it. Nature, as countless species show, is queer.
Take the clownfish, for instance. They live in groups where only two – the dominant male and female are mates. When the female dies, the male changes its sex to become female before selecting the next male from the group to become its mate. Male bearded dragons, meanwhile, reverse their sex under warm temperatures to become female while still within the egg. Banana slugs are “simultaneous hermaphrodites” – they possess and use both their male and female reproductive organs to mate with a partner or even themselves. In Botswana, five gender-queer lionesses alarmed scientists when they grew a mane and developed male-like behaviors, including a deeper roar and mounting other females. Then there is the New Mexico lizard, which is a species that entirely comprises females. They mate, lay eggs and reproduce like others. According to scientists, this is a form of asexual reproduction known as parthenogenesis. Just like the “non-binary” cardinal, this lizard – also referred to as “Leaping Lesbian Lizard,” also became a queer icon, inspiring not only art, but even a Pokémon and the name of a college frisbee team.
A key way in which nature challenges the heterosexual ideal is through the sheer prevalence of same-sex behavior. Homosexuality, reports say, has been documented in 1500 species – from dolphins and giraffes to penguins and starfish. It’s ironic when viewed historically, where the supposed absence of homosexuality in animals has been used time and again to fuel homophobia and deem homosexuality a “crime against nature” itself. The emperor penguin, for instance, was lauded by American conservatives as upholding traditional family values after a film depicted them in monogamous relationships. Penguins, however, may be socially monogamous, but aren’t so sexually, Eliot Schrefer, author of “Queer Ducks (and Other Animals): The Natural World of Animal Sexuality,” wrote in The Washington Post. Some may even be bisexual, Schrefer noted. Just last year, a pair of male penguins successfully fostered an egg at the Rosamund Gifford Zoo in New York, while in 2019, another pair of male penguins at the Berlin zoo co-parented an abandoned egg after having attempted to hatch stones and even a dead fish.
Same-sex behavior across species also challenges the prevailing notion that sex in the natural world only occurs for the goal of reproduction. Instead, there are many reasons for same-sex behavior – from building social bonds and resolving conflict to simply gaining pleasure. Recently, a lot more research has emerged on same-sex relationships in nature, perhaps due to changing gender norms. In the past, observations of same-sex behavior had scientists either decrying it as “depravity” or avoiding publishing findings, due to their own biases or to prevent disapproval from the scientific community, noted Schrefer.
As Ingrid Bååth wrote in Climate Culture, “Not only does our understanding of nature become the baseline for what we believe to be natural, but also what we believe to be moral or good behaviour… We interpret nature based on our inherent biases and use our biased understanding of nature to defend and justify those societal biases we have.”
These biases stem from predominantly Western notions of gender and sexuality that have been imposed upon the human and nonhuman worlds, Willow Defebaugh noted in Atmos. It creates dualities of “opposing” categories – pitting humans against nature, man against woman – separating one from the other in a power hierarchy. “Binary thinking, in any form, is rooted in a Western colonial view of the world in which one must always be subjugated by the other,” Katy Constantinides wrote for Climate Policy Lab.
A queer ecological framework, on the other hand, shows us that there is no one way to be masculine or feminine and that these categories may not exist in nature as we know it. It positions humans as a part of nature rather than distinct from it, leveling the power dynamics from an extractive to a community-oriented one. Nature is fluid, queer, and resists categorization as per human cultural perceptions and biases. As queer ecologists point out, acknowledging that may be the first step to repairing our relationship with the natural – as well as human – world.
You’ve probably planned on coming out about your sexuality to essential family members like your mom and dad. But have you ever thought about the importance of coming out to your doctor?
An open and honest relationship with your doctor is essential to getting care. This is especially true since there are specific needs that you might have as part of the LGBTQ+ community. As health family medicine physician Rita Lahlou, MD, MPH, told UNC Health Talk, “It’s important for people who identify with historically marginalized communities to find a primary care provider who will be supporting, affirming and understanding of them.”
With that said, the thought of a discussion about your health can be downright nerve-wracking. Whether you’re seeing a new doctor or talking with the doctor you’ve been seeing for years, here are a few tips and strategies to ensure that all your healthcare needs are met for your sexual health.
And it’s not an area that many general practitioners might feel comfortable asking about. Research published in Sexual Medicine examined healthcare specialists’ avoidance of sex and sexuality. It stated that many specialists think that asking their patients about their sex life and sexuality could cause embarrassment, so it’s not something that might come up. However, creating the appropriate framework of trust and empathy between your doctor and you can make this discussion easier. Bringing the topic to the table first lets your provider know it’s not a taboo area to talk about.
If you or someone you know is struggling or in crisis, help is available. Call or text 988 or chat988lifeline.org
Look for an LGBTQ-friendly provider
Since your sexuality is a crucial area of your life and who you are, having a physician or specialist who understands how to support the LGBTQ+ community can make talking about your sexuality easier. Look for a provider with an LGBTQ+ designation. According to Henry Ford, doctors with this designation complete additional clinical training for patients within this community, making them more likely to be knowledgeable in documenting sexual orientation and understanding the specific needs.
Finding an LGBTQ+-friendly provider might take some looking around. Paula Neira, Program Director of LGBTQ+ Equity and Education, told Johns Hopkins Medicine that there are databases by groups such as GLMA: Health Professionals Advancing LGBTQ Equality, but they aren’t exactly comprehensive. Thus, setting an appointment with a healthcare provider might require asking about their experience caring for LGBTQ+ patients. You can also ask others in the community to find a doctor they trust or have had a positive experience with.
Neira adds that not being open and honest with your provider could lead to missed screens, like those for cancer, especially for transgender individuals. Johns Hopkins Medicine also pointed out that seven out of ten LGBTQ+ members have received negative care, and connecting with a healthcare specialist competent in this field can alleviate that.
Bring your partner to the appointment
It’s easier to talk about your sexuality when you have a loving person supporting you. Consider bringing your partner with you to discuss this with your provider. Not only can they hold your hand, but they might also be able to help you make sure you have all your bases covered.
Bringing your partner with you and introducing them to your doctor can quickly clarify your sexuality and cue your healthcare provider that it’s okay to broach the subject of your sexual orientation. According to family medicine physician Beth Careyva, MD, “By providing this information, we can make sure to offer preventative care screenings, as well as provide counseling on sexual health, lifestyle changes, and same-sex family planning” (via Lehigh Valley Health Network).
The Office of Disease Prevention and Health Promotion notes that having a support person during the visits can help ensure you keep track of your specialist’s advice and ask questions when something isn’t clearly explained.
Use techniques to calm nervousness
The Center for American Progress points out that discrimination in the healthcare setting for the LGBTQ+ community leads to delays and access to needed medical care. It can affect not only patients, but their parents as well. This is especially true for those trying to find care for their transgender children. Thus, it’s not surprising that this topic might be uncomfortable for some to discuss with their doctor, leading to nervousness.
Fortunately, there are several techniques to calm the nerves before talking to your doctor about your sexuality. One of the best calming methods is focusing on breathing (via NHS). Get yourself in a comfortable position and let your breath flow. Focus on nothing but the movement of your chest and the refreshing air coming into your lungs for a steady five-count. Keep repeating until the doctor comes in so that you can talk to them with a clear, relaxed mind.
The Baton Rouge Clinic AMC states that it can be helpful to close your eyes and count to ten as you wait for your healthcare provider to enter the room. You can also try counting to 20 backward. Other calming techniques include chewing gum, smelling lavender, and listening to calming music. Once the doctor comes in, you can bring up your sexuality as part of your casual health conversation.
Be straightforward and honest
It may be hard to be bold, but when it comes to your health, it’s not a time to be shy. Bring your sexuality to the table immediately. For example, introduce yourself to a new doctor with your name, preferred pronouns, and sexuality. Being matter-of-fact with your healthcare professional establishes honesty. With a current specialist, bring it up by saying, “I have a personal question…” states the National Institute on Aging.
Johns Hopkins Medicine also notes that you should set an agenda when talking to your doctor. It doesn’t have to be a long, intricate list, but outlining your sexuality and issues you would like to talk about will ensure that all your needs are met. According to Megan Moran-Sands, DO, a Geisinger pediatrician, “Your doctor and any healthcare professional you interact with will keep your information private.” Knowing this can help you not to feel so apprehensive.
And remember, your doctor wants honesty. Debra Roter, Dr.P.H., a professor at the Johns Hopkins Bloomberg School of Public Health, noted, “It’s important to share things about your lifestyle, social obligations and relationships at home and at work. Sometimes patients are fearful that the doctor isn’t interested or that it isn’t relevant.” But having this information gives them a better understanding of your overall health.
Use questions as your guide
If you’ve had a bad experience with a different healthcare provider regarding the topic of sexuality, you might be even more apprehensive about talking about it openly. In that case, using questions as your guide might be better. Giving your current provider hints about what you need to discuss allows them to bring the subject up and save you embarrassment.
For example, you might start off your conversation with your provider by discussing their knowledge of LGBTQ+ patients. During your initial interview with a new doctor, you might ask about their patient experience with sexuality and LGBTQ+ patients. Ask about their experience with transgender issues. LCMC Health states that it sets a tone with your provider, allowing them to draw the conversation toward your sexuality in a respectful manner. As the National Institute on Aging notes, asking questions is key to building open communication with your doctor to better understand medical issues, tests, and medications that can affect your sexual life.
Don’t put off talking about your sexuality
The World Health Organization says that your sexual health is essential not just to your personal well-being, but also to that of your loved ones. Don’t overlook being committed to your sexual health with your doctor, since it can influence screenings, family counseling, testing, and more.
Understanding your sexual health also plays a vital role in sexually transmitted disease prevention, practicing safer sex, and your body image, states Healthline. In addition, it’s a key area of mental and emotional health, particularly for members of the LGBTQ+ community who experience “discrimination or cultural homophobia.” Per data presented by the Substance Abuse and Mental Health Services Administration, sexual minorities such as the LGBTQ+ community are more likely to have substance misuse and mental health issues.
As Dr. Megan Moran-Sands notes (via Geisinger), “It’s beneficial to share your sexual orientation with your doctor so you can get the most personalized care. You can be more open about your life and your choices, and you and your doctor can work together to create a plan for staying healthy.” Don’t wait to talk to your doctor about sexual health. Bring it to the discussion immediately to set the bar for all future appointments.
Sexuality and sexual health should not be taboo topics, and are nothing to feel ashamed about. Remember that no matter what, your doctor is there to help. To make things a bit easier during your appointment, Willis-Knighton Health System suggests writing down the items you want to discuss on a phone or piece of paper to avoid forgetting what you want to say in case you suddenly feel uneasy.
Since talking about sexual health can be difficult face-to-face, you might also want to take advantage of telehealth consultations to discuss these issues. It might be easier for you to talk about sexual orientation, sexual problems, and gender in the comfort of your own home. Your provider can ask questions to get the necessary tests or medications (via the International Society for Sexual Medicine). Telehealth might also be the best way to connect with a doctor that is LGBTQ+-friendly.
Lastly, it helps to give your doctor a heads-up. For example, you can tell your healthcare provider during your initial appointment that you would like to speak to them about sexuality. You can also let them know that you’re nervous. This way, they can have questions ready to help you overcome your negative feelings.
A new study tracing the evolution of same-sex sexual behavior in mammals, using phylogenetic analyses, suggests these behaviors may have evolved in part to strengthen social bonding and relationships.
Same-sex sexual behavior was observed in 261 species, which constitutes 4% of all mammal species; the research adds to a growing list of some 1,500 animal species in which same-sex sexual behavior is documented.
Interest in this research is expanding after a long history of stigma within the field that led some earlier scientists to withhold evidence of same-sex sexual behavior among animals; at the time, such behavior was considered an error in the research findings — or “perverted.”
Researchers also note that stigmas have long prevented scientists from investigating same-sex sexual behaviors in animals or receiving funding to carry out such studies.
The study of animals has always been a point of curiosity for many scientists across disciplines and has contributed to our understanding of the world. While many scientists in evolutionary biology have questioned different animal behaviors, same-sex sexual behavior in animals is a topic that is seeing increasing interest. This growing field of research has amassed a list of 1,500 animal species exhibiting same-sex sexual behavior.
Now, a recent study published in the journal Nature Communications has traced the evolution of same-sex sexual behavior in all mammals, using phylogenetic analysis, a method that traces evolutionary relationships among biological entities. Such behavior, which is common in mammals, may have evolved in part “to establish, maintain and strengthen social relationships that may increase bonds and alliance between members of the same group,” the authors write.
“Our study has tested for the first time two adaptive hypotheses on the origin and maintenance of same-sex sexual behavior using a large group of animals, the class Mammalia,” says José Maria Gómez, an evolutionary biologist at the Experimental Station of Arid Zones in Almería, Spain, and an author of the study. “In this sense, our study provides strong evidence that this sexual behavior is functional and plays an important role, at least in this group of animals.”
In their study, Gómez says the scientists conclude that social behavior that helped maintain positive social relationships and mitigate intrasexual aggression were two factors shaping the evolution of these behaviors. The former factor did so for both males and females and the latter factor only for such behavior expressed by males, they found.
Same-sex sexual behavior, which includes courtship, mounting, genital contact, copulation and pair bonding, was observed in 261 species, which constitutes 4% of all mammal species. Their study also indicates that same-sex sexual behavior is not randomly distributed across the mammalian phylogeny but tends to be frequent in some clades and rare in others and has been observed in males and females both in captivity and in wild conditions.
Male lions in a zoo in Melbourne, Australia. Same-sex sexual behavior, which is common in mammals, may have evolved in part “to establish, maintain and strengthen social relationships that may increase bonds and alliance between members of the same group.”
Not an aberration
“In the early 2000s, same-sex sexual behavior in animals would often be seen as a ‘zoo problem,’ like it was the animals in captivity that were making the best out of a bad situation,” says Eliot Schrefer, author of Queer Ducks (and Other Animals), a young-adult book that illustrates the diversity of sexual behavior in animals. “But this kind of science shows the prevalence of said behaviors throughout the animal kingdom, which shows that it’s not some aberration that has been localized, but it is something that is essential,” adds Schrefer, who was not part of the study.
The study suggests that social bonds may have played a role in the evolution of same-sex sexual behavior, and it may be connected to animals’ transition from solitary living to “sociality,” or living in groups, which has evolutionary advantages. “Due to the multiple benefits of sociality, many behavioural strategies have evolved to ensure the cohesion and stability of social groups,” the authors write.
Janet Mann, a behavioral ecologist who was not involved in the study, says, “It makes sense that animals make use of the social behavior that they have available for them for social bonding.” However, she finds maintaining social bonds and intrasexual aggression to be the flip sides of the same coin. Social bonding, she explains, includes when animals ally themselves with others, and that provides protection. In extreme cases, male chimpanzees form tight alliances with one another, resulting in the whole community bonding to some degree. “They kill males with the neighboring community, so it’s not like they are having sex with those males,” she says.
While the Nature Communications report is one of the first studies that has provided research on a broader scale rather than sticking to one species, the authors are not hesitant to acknowledge that the data available are limited because interest among scientists and researchers studying same-sex sexual behavior in animals is very recent.
Mann says this lack of data meant the researchers couldn’t comprehensively address the frequency of same-sex sexual behavior; rather, the data primarily show presence or absence of behaviors. Therefore, a case in which a behavior is rare was weighed the same as a case in which it occurs frequently; both were reported as “occurring,” which is a limitation of the study.
Two male African wolves in Senegal. “In the early 2000s, same-sex sexual behavior in animals would often be seen as a ‘zoo problem,’ like it was the animals in captivity that were making the best out of a bad situation,” says author Eliot Schrefer.
Stigma in past research
This absence of sufficient data stems from intentional erasure by some scientists in the past due to the stigma attached to homosexuality and expected heterosexuality among animals. For a long time, the prevailing notion was that sexual behavior in the animal kingdom served solely as a tool for procreation, and that sexual behavior among the same sex in animals was considered either an error — or was labeled “perverted.” Heterosexual worldview influenced the approach of scientists like Valerius Geist, a mammalogist who, decades ago, refrained from publishing about frequent same-sex behavior noticed in bighorn sheep because, the Washington Post reports, it made him “cringe … to conceive of those magnificent beasts as ‘queers.’” Years later, he reportedly “admitted that the rams lived in essentially a homosexual society.”
“Science is made by scientists, and [some] scientists who go out in the field have the assumption that only heterosexual behavior is natural. And so, for a long time, they weren’t bothering to sex the animal they were finding or seeing if it were male or female; they were just assuming when one animal is mounting another.” Consequently, Schrefer says he suspects same-sex sexual behaviors in the animal world are vastly underestimated “because there are very few scientists that are going out and looking.”
These stigmas have not entirely left the scientific community. Mann recognizes that societal biases against same-sex sexual behavior in human societies influence the willingness of researchers to undertake such studies. The stigma creates a barrier, as approaching traditional funding agencies for studies may be met with reluctance or denial. The hierarchical nature of science, mirroring broader societal structures, also imposes limitations on junior researchers, dissuading them from delving into studies that challenge established norms, she says.
Mann’s contribution to the anthology Homosexual Behaviour in Animals: An Evolutionary Perspective has also opened up a window to same-sex sexual behavior among bottlenose dolphins. Reflecting on the trajectory of her work, she explains, “I wrote that chapter in the book because I was asked to, and they knew I had a lot of data. I had also already started tenure, so when the book came out, I was a full professor. As a full professor, I don’t have to worry; but my more junior colleagues, for them, there is some stigma.” It’s not correct, she says, but “if you are studying same-sex sexual behavior … people make assumptions about you as a person, that you are homosexual.”
This assumption about researchers’ identities has put skeptical eyes on the sciences that many pursue. Schrefer talks about a primatologist named Linda Wolfe, who wrote about female-female sex among macaques in the 1970s. She was a graduate student when she published about this, and the response was: “Why are you interested in this? Is something wrong with you? Are you a lesbian?” Schrefer says. “And so, if someone is part of the queer community, people would not trust the science that much.”
Melina Packer, an assistant professor of race, gender and sexuality studies at the University of Wisconsin-La Crosse says she believes that while many people push for science to be depoliticized, it is impossible to do that, as everyone is a political being. What can be done is to acknowledge those potential biases. She further explains that those in power have a political position, and to state that some folks are biased because they are different from so-called societal norms is a political statement in itself. Further, she points out, scientists of diverse racial, gender and sexual identities are expected to leave those identities at the laboratory door. “But what about the identity of the dominant being, what about the white man’s identity? Why doesn’t he have to leave his identity at the laboratory door?” she says.
Many times, these biases lead to the dismissal of same-sex sexual behaviors in animals within research. “Because it is infrequent behavior, there aren’t necessarily studies of just sexual behavior; there are studies of courtship and mating, but it’s usually in the context of reproduction and the population and how it’s progressing. So, most of the focus is on the things that have obvious adaptive value.” The lack of focus on behaviors with unknown or uncertain adaptive values is another form of bias, Mann adds.
Two male dragonflies in the mating position. For a long time, the prevailing notion was that sexual behavior in the animal kingdom served solely as a tool for procreation, and that sexual behavior among the same sex in animals was considered either an error — or was labeled “perverted.”
A study published in 2019 by a group of researchers suggests that same-sex behavior in animals is ancestral, meaning that it did not evolve independently but instead was always there in animals and persisted, as there are very few costs associated with same-sex behaviors. The authors note that it can be advantageous, and that the expression of both different-sex and same-sex behaviors “may be the norm for most animal species.” The authors propose shifting the questions from Why same-sex behavior? to Why not same-sex behavior?
To keep such biases from permeating scientific study, Packer refers to feminist science studies, which look at how science is embedded in culture and history. “Scientists are people, too, right? And scientists cannot help from bringing their biases, intentional or not, to the work we do, who we are, what culture we are raised in, how we are socialized, what historical moment we have lived in. All these forces are influencing the scientific process, what we sort of have been socially trained to see when we make an observation, particularly of animals. [If] you are raised in a culture that understands same-sex sexual behavior or homosexuality or queerness as wrong or abhorrent, you’re more likely to project that view onto the nonhuman animals you are viewing.”
To resolve this issue, Packer suggests more interdisciplinary collaboration with experts outside the sciences from including, but not limited to, arts and humanities. “The way we educate scientists, fundamentally, would shift; ideally, we all would be working together and breaking open those boxes and constraints as well. I think being encouraged and empowered to think differently as a scientist is essential, and ultimately science is supposed to be about asking critical questions and testing hypotheses. But all too often, what happens in science is you just follow behind the scientist who came before you where you take dominant theories for granted and don’t necessarily try to implode them or explode them.”
Stating the relevance of their research for the public, Gómez says, “any behavior or characteristic, no matter how unique we think it is to human beings, can be studied scientifically in a calm, disinterested and rigorous manner. And … the honest use of a scientific and rational approach can help us much more than other forms of knowledge to understand vital aspects of our life and our way of being.”
Elagabalus ruled as Roman emperor for just four years before being murdered in AD 222. He was still a teenager when he died. Despite his short reign, Elagabalus is counted among the most infamous of Roman emperors, often listed alongside Caligula and Nero.
His indiscretions, recorded by the Roman chroniclers, include: marrying a vestal virgin, the most chaste of Roman priestesses, twice; dressing up as a female prostitute and selling his body to other men; allowing himself to be penetrated (and by the bigger the penis the better); marrying a man, the charioteer Hierocles; and declaring himself not to be an emperor at all, but an empress: “Call me not Lord, for I am a Lady”.
Based on this quote, North Hertfordshire Museum has reclassified Elagabalus as a transgender woman, and will now use the pronouns she/her. The museum has a single coin depicting Elagabalus, which is sometimes displayed along with other LGBTQ+ artefacts from their collection.
When writing about ancient subjects, from emperors to slaves, the first question historians have to ask is: how do we know what we do? Most of our written sources are fragmentary, incomplete and rarely contemporary, amounting to little more than gossip or hearsay at best, malign propaganda at worst. It’s rare that we have a figure’s own words to guide us.
Elagabalus is no exception. For Elagabalus, our principle source is the Roman historian Cassius Dio. A senator and politician before turning his hand to history, Dio was not only a contemporary of the emperor, but part of his regime.
However, Dio wrote his Roman history under the patronage of Elagabalus’ cousin, Severus Alexander. He took the throne following Elagabalus’s assassination. It was therefore in Dio’s interest to paint his patron’s predecessor in a bad light.
Sexual slurs and the Romans
Sexual slurs were always among the first insults thrown by Roman authors. Julius Caesar was accused of being penetrated by the Bithynian king so many times it earned him the nickname “the Queen of Bithynia”.
It was rumoured that both Mark Antony and Augustus had prostituted themselves for political gain earlier in their careers. And Nero was said to have worn the bridal veil to marry a man.
The Romans were no stranger to same-sex relationships, however. It would have been more unusual for a Roman emperor not to have slept with men. Roman sexual identities were complex constructs, revolving around notions such as status and power.
A bust of Elagabalus.
The gender of a person’s sexual partner did not come into it. Instead, sexual orientation was informed by sexual role: were they the dominant or passive partner?
To be the dominant partner, in business, politics and war as much as in the bedroom, was at the root of what made a Roman man a man. The Latin word we translate as “man”, vir, is the root of the modern word “virile”, and to the Romans there was nothing more manly than virility. To penetrate – whether men, women, or both – was seen as manly, and therefore as Roman.
Conversely, for a Roman man to be passive, to be penetrated, was seen as unmanly. The Romans thought such an act of penetration stripped a man of his virility, making him less than a man – akin to a woman or, even worse, a slave.
A man who enjoyed being penetrated was sometimes called a cinaedus, and in Latin literature cinaedi are often described as taking on the role of the woman in more than the bedroom, both dressing and acting effeminately. The implication is always that the way they dressed, acted and had sex was somehow subversive – distinctly un-Roman.
The word cinaedus appears in Latin literature almost exclusively as an insult — and it’s this literary role that is ascribed to Caesar, Mark Antony, Nero and Elagabalus. The power of the insult stems not from saying that these men had sex with men, but that they were penetrated by men.
It’s worth noting that these rules of Roman sexuality only applied to freeborn adult, male Roman citizens. They did not apply to women, slaves, freedmen, foreigners or even beardless youths. These people were all considered fair game to a virile Roman man, as uncomfortable a concept as that might be to us today.
Was Elagabalus transgender?
While the Romans clearly engaged in acts that we today consider gay or straight sex, they would not recognise the sexual orientations we associate with them. The ancient Romans did not share the same conceptions of sexuality that we do.
Many men’s sexual behaviour was what we would now term bisexual. Some lived in a manner we might describe as gender non-conforming. The concept of a person being transgender was not unknown. But an ancient Roman would not have self-identified as any of those things.
We cannot retroactively apply such modern, western identities to the inhabitants of the past and we must be careful not to misgender or misidentify them – especially if our only evidence for how they might have identified comes from hostile writers.
In attempting to fact check the sexual slurs and propaganda from the biographical facts, there is a danger that we lose sight of the fact that ancient Romans did recognise a huge variety of sexual orientations and gender identities – just as we do today. To attempt to crudely ascribe modern labels to ancient figures such as Elagabalus is not only to strip them of their agency, but also to oversimplify what is a wonderfully, fabulously broad and nuanced subject.
– Part 1: Know Yourself, What You Seek and Who’s Looking for You
Being a gay Daddy has its perks, but also presents a set of challenges that make it perfect for some and undoable for others. So let’s talk about the assumptions, the realties and whether gay Daddydom — or seeking out a gay Daddy — is right for you.
Are you over 35? You’re on the cusp of what younger men consider Daddy material. But being a Daddy involves a lot more than being able to grow whiskers and sport fuzzy pecs. There are gay Daddies in their 20s ranging up in age as far as you can imagine. Likewise, there are adult boys ranging from 18 to well into their 60s and beyond. It turns out that the Daddy/boy dynamic attracts men independent of their ages. They’re seeking a bond more than a date on a birth certificate.
Handling the Idea of Being Daddy
You have questions to ask yourself: Does the notion of being called Daddy or Papa or Papi make your skin crawl? Many guys shudder at the notion because they equate the nomenclature with being told they’re nearing their “sell by” date. For me, being a furry guy who could grow a full beard at 14, it was a Godsend. I got no play in my 20s because I was too hairy to be one of the Abercrombie & Fitch or Obsession ad models. It wasn’t until I hit both 35 and the gym that I got any notice at all in the bars — and not usually until my shirt came off on the dance floor. But let’s say you’ve accepted that – whether through age or appearance, you have achieved the level of maturity at which you’re seldom if ever carded at an R-rated movie. Your Daddy look may involve a receding hairline, the appearance of laugh lines or traces of gray at the temples. Wear any or all of them with pride: the more comfortable you are in your own skin, the more attractive you are to someone who’s seeking maturity.
Answering the Impertinent Question
You will inevitably find yourself, as you’re looking for a Daddy-seeker, faced with a profile or a question about whether you’re “generous.” It’s best to make it clear that you’re either a Sugar Daddy or more of the type who’s offering an emotional, romantic or a sexual bond. Certainly there are many adult boys who seek a Daddy as a transactional affair, whether inside or outside bedroom. If that’s not you, say so up front.
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Some Daddies only step into that role behind closed doors. Some wear it out and proud at the local watering holes. A few will let their connection with a younger partner shine in public. For me, it took me more than a few laps around the sun to understand my attraction to and the interest I get from younger guys.
Embracing your inner Daddy also means that more often than not, you’ll be getting a fair number of questions from your peers. “How can you find someone so young attractive?” they’ll ask. “They don’t know who was in the Beatles from who’s in the Rolling Stones, and you’re having to listen to their music, too — which is crap.” But then there are the up sides.
The Qualities of Youth
Truth be told, I’m simply more attracted to qualities typically associated with youth. Younger guys are more likely (in my experience) to see the possibilities surrounding them; they’re into exploring new places, new ideas and open to new stimuli — whether books, restaurants, podcasts, all-night dance parties, film festivals, or sudden impulses to hop into a car and see where it takes you for the weekend. A lot of guys my age (and I don’t mean all) want to be in bed after midnight. Don’t misunderstand: There are older men with a sense of adventure, to be sure. But there aren’t many of them looking to be nurtured or guided in the ways I seek — and those who are often confuse being a boy with being a sub or a slave, which are very different things.
Gay Daddies Are Special, Too
There’s a premium placed on youth in our culture, and young men can be beautiful. But I didn’t really start to enjoy being a Daddy until I came to understand that the older half of the equation is as rare and special as the younger, and that we are deserving of the hero worship they want to invest. A Daddy can help put life into context for someone feeling overwhelmed by the randomness of the world — especially in gay culture. A mature man has a grasp of history and life experience; he can provide compassion and cautionary tales; he’s more apt to be comfortable communicating about sex and have strategies about how to keep it fresh and safe at the same time.
Conversely, younger men know the internet in a way I never will. They’re familiar with suddenly and constantly adapting to where they seek information and the technology required to access it. They’ll stay up until sunrise and beyond if given a reason — even if that reason doesn’t appear until after 3am. They’re often curious, and while they won’t always agree with your conclusions, they know you’ve seen more of the world, even if your understanding largely comes from driving around town with the news on for decades. An adult boy knows what’s trending now and can show you how to keep up with the same. We in return can share with them the great films from our lifetimes (and earlier). Before long, you’re both sharing what you know that the other doesn’t — and that can be the beginning of a fascinating journey.
— Being nonbinary means not identifying solely (or at all) with being male or female
For a long time, Western society thought of sex and gender as a binary: male/female, girl/boy, man/woman. Though plenty of people throughout history have likely identified otherwise, we haven’t had the language to talk about or understand what that means.
Fortunately, we’ve come a long way. In 2021, a study by the Trevor Project found that more than a quarter (26%) of LGBTQIA+ youth now identify as nonbinary, with an additional 20% saying they’re still questioning whether they’re nonbinary. And that data doesn’t even begin to cover nonbinary/questioning adults.
But what exactly does it mean to be nonbinary? Child and adolescent psychiatrist Jason Lambrese, MD, helps define this term so that you can better understand this gender identity.
What is nonbinary?
In simple terms, being nonbinary means that you do not identify (solely or at all) with the idea of being a man or a woman.
“We used to think that people were either male or female, and that was it — that there were two endpoints, and everyone had to be at one of them,” Dr. Lambrese says. “But it became clear that that didn’t fit everybody’s experience.”
For some people, being nonbinary means feeling that you’re somewhere else along that line — in between male and female, or a combination of some aspects of both. But other nonbinary people feel that their gender identity exists outside the male/female spectrum — not on the line but somewhere else altogether.
“There are a lot of cultures where it’s very common to identify as male, female or a third gender,” Dr. Lambrese notes. “We might put it somewhere in the middle of the spectrum, or it can be thought about completely outside of that construct.”
Nonbinary gender identities
If you’re trying to get a handle on what it means to be nonbinary, you’re going to have to get comfortable in gray space: There are no specific, hard-and-fast rules about nonbinary identities or “what it means” to be nonbinary.
“What it means for one person could be different than what it means for somebody else,” Dr. Lambrese states.
A nonbinary person could just identify with the term “nonbinary,” or they may use other terms to describe themselves and their relationship (or lack thereof) with gender:
Agender,genderless, or gender-free are terms for people who don’t identify with any gender at all.
Androgynousmeans having gender expression characteristics that are typically associated with both male and female.
Bigenderis when someone identifies with two genders, whether they experience those genders at the same time or alternately.
Demigirl and demiboyare terms for people who partially identify with one gender or the other, but not fully.
Genderfluid and genderflux refer to the feeling that your gender is flexible. It may change from day to day or over time.
Gender non-conforming usually means that a person doesn’t conform to societal gender norms, whether in terms of gender identity, gender expression or both.
Genderqueer is typically used as an umbrella term, sort of like nonbinary, for anyone who feels they don’t fit into standard gender labels.
Because gender can be such a personal experience, these terms can mean different things to different people. And some people might identify with multiple terms or with others not listed here.
If these terms are new to you, you might feel confused about some of the nuances and differences between them. That’s OK. The most important thing is to remain open-minded to learning what they mean to individual people and their gender identity — so that you can be as supportive as possible.
Is nonbinary the same as transgender?
Sometimes, and sometimes not. The answer to this question comes down to each individual person and what identity feels right to them.
For the most part, you can think of being transgender as an overarching concept that encompasses multiple types of identities. “You could say that being trans is the most overarching of all of the umbrella terms, and under that are smaller umbrellas, like being nonbinary,” Dr. Lambrese clarifies.
But not everyone who identifies as nonbinary will identify with being trans. Some nonbinary people, for example, may feel more comfortable with explanations like “not cisgender.”(Cisgender meaning people whose gender identity corresponds with what they were assigned at birth.)
“For some people, even the term ‘transgender’ can feel like a binary,” Dr. Lambrese says, “so being nonbinary may feel separate from the identity of transgender. It’s all very individualized.”
It’s always best not to make assumptions about anyone’s identity — which is, by the way, a good rule of thumb for all for life!
What pronouns do nonbinary people use?
This answer differs for every person, but “they/them” is common. The Trevor Project found that more than one-third of nonbinary youth exclusively (only) use the pronouns “they/them.”
For some people, using they/them to refer to a singular person feels weird and uncomfortable — that squiggly feeling you get when you use improper grammar. If this is you, try to remember: Language is constantly evolving, and it’s OK for words’ meanings to change. Plus, you’re probably already more used to using they/them singular pronouns than you might think (for example, “Someone left their umbrella behind! I sure hope they come back for it.”).
“It’s important that we validate and normalize ’they/them’ as pronouns that can be used singularly,” Dr. Lambrese states.
The study also found that an additional 21% of respondents use a combination of gender pronouns that include but aren’t limited to they/them. This could mean, for example, that someone uses them/them pronouns and she/her pronouns. They may prefer that you mix them up at random (“I’m getting lunch with her tomorrow because they weren’t available today.”) or ask that you use certain pronouns at certain times.
What about neopronouns?
Less common but still important are neopronouns, which are words that have been created to take the place of traditional pronouns. Some examples include:
Xe/xem/xir.
Ze/zir/zem.
Ee/em/eir.
If you’re not sure exactly how to use neopronouns, here’s an example: “Xe is so friendly and funny. When I first met xem last week, I immediately asked for xir number so we could hang out.”
It can take some work to incorporate this type of evolving language into your lexicon, but doing so shows respect and support for others. Like anything new, it will start to come naturally to you over time.
“If you mess up, that’s OK,” Dr. Lambrese reassures. “Just apologize and use the correct one going forward. People can usually appreciate that. It’s when you’re not trying that can be very hurtful.”
Nonbinary people and mental health
The English language now offers more terminology than ever for people to express their gender identity, which represents society’s evolving understanding of gender. But that doesn’t always mean that individual people have become more understanding or accepting.
The Trevor Project found that 42% of LGBTQ youth seriously considered attempting suicide in the year before the study. That included more than half of transgender and nonbinary youth — largely owing to a lack of support and respect from family, friends and society at large.
“When nonbinary teens live in an environment where they’re not feeling accepted or validated, they can experience negative mental health outcomes like depression, anxiety and even suicidal ideation,” Dr. Lambrese says.
The Trevor Project found that nonbinary youth whose family members respected their pronouns were far less likely to attempt suicide than their peers without family support.
“These numbers are supported by studies that have looked at sexual and gender minorities over time,” Dr. Lambrese says. “Data shows that the more support children and teens have, the better their mental health outcomes are.”
How to support nonbinary people
“Being affirming of somebody’s experience doesn’t have to mean that you fully understand all of the intricacies of their identity,” Dr. Lambrese says. “It doesn’t even have to mean that you agree with all of their goals for themselves. But you can still be affirming and supportive.”
Two of the simplest and more powerful ways to show your respect and support are to use people’s preferred names and proper pronouns.
“At the very least, this allows people to feel heard,” he says. “The data shows that sometimes, those simplest things lead nonbinary people to say, ‘When my pronouns are used correctly, I feel so much better.’ It’s such a simple, easy thing that we can all do.”
Dr. Lambrese shares some tips:
Ask for their pronouns (and share yours): Meeting someone new? “Don’t make assumptions about people’s gender identity or their pronouns,” Dr. Lambrese advises. “You can ask people, or you can introduce yourself with your own pronouns and ask for theirs. I might say, for example, ‘Hi, I’m Jason, and my pronouns are he/him. What name and pronouns do you use?’”
Seek out examples: If someone shares their pronouns with you and you’re not entirely sure how to use them, politely ask if they feel comfortable sharing some examples so that you can get it right. Google is your friend here, too.
When you mess up, apologize … and move on: If you accidentally misgender someone, acknowledge it (“Oh, I’m sorry! I meant ‘they.’”) and then keep the conversation flowing. Over-apologizing is awkward for everyone, and it centers your own feelings over theirs.
Normalize pronouns: Putting your own pronouns in your email signature or on your nametag at events allow people others to feel more comfortable sharing their pronouns with you.
Adapt your other language, too:Gendered terms like “Hey, ladies,” and “You guys,” can feel exclusionary to nonbinary people. Instead, practice using inclusive, gender-neutral terms like “y’all” and “folks.”
Gently correct others: If you overhear someone else talking about another person with the wrong pronouns, offer a polite but firm correction: “Jamie actually uses they/them pronouns, not he/him.” Helping others get it right behind the scenes may lessen the chances that they misgender someone face to face.
At the end of the day, supporting nonbinary people is, in so many ways, similar to supporting any other community of people: “Operate in good faith, demonstrate respect and apologize when you fall short,” Dr. Lambrese encourages.
I met a guy on Grindr, and we started hooking up regularly.
The intimacy of both our sex and our conversations afterward may be making me fall for him.
I also wonder whether I’m just projecting my desire for a relationship onto him.
A “relationship” in the queer world has always felt ambiguous to me.
For queer people like me, love and relationships can be confusing. That’s probably why I’ve never had a boyfriend even though I’m 31.
But now that I have a stable job with a stable income and a pretty close-knit group of friends, I feel ready for a relationship — whatever that means. It’s just unfortunate that I’m falling for my hook-up buddy.
One day, I found myself staring at a headless torso on one of the apps and messaged him
I was on Grindr, and I saw a beautiful guy with a six-pack. His profile said he was in an open relationship and looking for “buddies, preferably hung.”
The first time we met was at a park in broad daylight behind some bushes. It wasn’t what I expected, but it definitely set the tone for what was to come — unexpected with a side of kinky.
When I first saw him, I didn’t recognize him from the photos he had sent me. But as he started to approach me while I sat on a park bench, he was surprisingly more attractive in real life.
I knew I was done for the moment he started to talk. The way he held himself sent shivers up my spine.
He’s cute, he’s sweet — OK, scratch that. He’s hot, he’s unbelievably hot. He has a side of dominance that could melt your jockstrap and make your eyes roll to the back of your head.
We usually play in the backseat of his car. I know, how juvenile. But it’s kind of kinky and rebellious, which surprisingly turns me on more than I thought it would.
Once was fun; twice was heaven. Now every time we play, I feel as if I’m being transported to another dimension that could save me, kill me, or ruin my soul.
I’m starting to develop feelings for him
If I had to calculate and give you a rough estimate for the number of times he and I have had sex, we’re looking at about 15 to 20 times. So, if we’re trying to quantify this relationship and add some math to this already complex equation, that’s a lot of hours spent together, kissing, cuddling, and being intimate with each other.
When we play, I feel as if there’s something more going on than what’s happening in front of us. We lock eyes the entire time, every kiss is met with a moan, and every touch is met with a quiver.
We always talk after, which surprises me because I’m usually the one who’s opting to put my pants back on and get out of a guy’s apartment as quickly as possible. But with him, it’s different. He listens, truly listens — even when I go on a tangent about nothing.
I’ve never really had a guy who listened before.
Yes, he’s in an open relationship, and they’re both allowed to go off and do whatever they want with whomever they want. But he has to keep it to sex; he’s not allowed to date other people.
He even told me that when he first started dating his partner, they had issues because his partner wanted to be monogamous and he didn’t. He said he knew himself and would cheat on his partner if their relationship were closed. Being open for fun would allow him to “scratch my itch.”
I wonder whether I’m latching onto him just because I want a relationship now
I must admit, the whole “scratch my itch” was exceedingly off-putting. I’m surprisingly a really big fan of monogamy, but I keep looking past it in hopes that we might be something more. The thought of having someone who looks at me — and only me — is profoundly endearing. I want that. I yearn for that.
Maybe I’m just projecting that want onto my hook-up buddy. Maybe I’m just fooling myself and am falling for the idea of him. Honestly, I’m just at a loss for what to do.
If Mr. Itch isn’t going to be the one to scratch “my itch,” then do I give him the flick in the hopes of finding something that’s truly right for me?
I’m not sure, but, for now, I’m going to continue to enjoy the benefits part of our relationship.
On a random Wednesday night, my girlfriend and I find ourselves sitting in a warmly lit Brooklyn apartment surrounded by suspension hooks and bundles of rope. We waited in nervous silence for the Queer Rope Bondage 101 workshop to begin.
I’d recently stumbled across the Instagram account @FreaksnotCreeps, New York City-based rope artist Liv’s visual diary of rope suspension and deviant bondage imagery. As a curious queer, I was hesitant but highly intrigued to know more. I learned that rope bondage is a form of shibari, also known as kinbaku, that originates from Japan. In modern Western culture, the stereotype of an older man tying a skinny, flexible white woman is widespread, but from festivals to meet-ups, there’s actually a thriving, diverse queer rope-bondage community around the world.
After watching a few videos about rope on YouTube, I was curious about taking one of Liv’s workshops with my girlfriend; it seemed safer to try this with professional guidance. Although the idea of attempting something totally new was nerve-wracking, the idea of learning alongside fellow freaky gays eased our anxiety.
Instead of the harsh hues of red and black that I’d expected, the studio had dim lighting and plenty of plants. The other people in the class were cool. I presumed the other participants might look Goth, with head-to-toe leather, piercings, and tattoos — instead, one arrived in Maison Margiela Mary Janes. I would never have picked any of them off the street to be even the slightest bit interested in rope, but it was exciting to be wrong. We had yet to even begin class, and I already had my first takeaway from the night: Don’t judge a book by its cover.
Liv is a self-identifying sadomasochist and pervert with blunt bangs and a soft smize. They began class by explaining that their goal is to create a queer safe space within rope bondage that isn’t intimidating and doesn’t necessarily have to be sexual. While rope can get serious down the road, Liv’s beginner class would be solely sweet and cute. This felt like a breath of fresh air; I’d been anxious about being rushed into a rough practice that didn’t resonate with me. I was ready to learn.
I learned to like letting go and being the one to feel.
We each began by untangling a long bundle of rope and practiced self-tying with the single-column tie, the most versatile and simple knot. Next, we tried the double-column version. As I maneuvered from my calves to my thighs to my waist, I started to get the hang of it. Once my beginner’s frustration of figuring out the knots wore off, I could tune into how the rope felt on my body. It was coarse and harsh, but in a relaxing way. Everything around me paused, and my main focus became the tenderness of the twisted fibers on my legs.
Once we were somewhat confident in our self-tying abilities, my girlfriend and I began tying on each other. It was intimate and nerve-wracking at the same time. We were touching each other in ways we never had before, and the tightness of the rope was unfamiliar but strangely calming. The energy in the room was uplifting as everyone around me was focusing on tying their partners. I felt so safe in a queer space; there was no judgment to be found but instead an uplifting feeling of all-togetherness. I loved seeing people tied up alongside me. We’d just met, but we were all enjoying an intimate experience with one another.
I joined the class with the intention of using my new skills on my girlfriend. She has always expressed interest in restriction on various parts of her body, and I enjoyed the idea of being the restrictor. However, when she started practicing on me, I had no choice but to comply. It turned out to be an uncomfortable thrill. I learned to like letting go and being the one to feel.
During the class, we all talked about how disconnected we felt from our own bodies in our daily lives. According to Liv, although tying is often thought of in a sexual context, it can also be a way to connect with yourself or a friend. For this reason, Liv encourages people to come to class alone or with a group. Although I plan to continue to use rope bondage sexually, I enjoy the idea of practicing new knots as a form of self-care.
If you’re curious about tying, too, let me pass along a few tips from Liv: Communication and trust are pre-requisites. You know you’ve tied rope tightly enough if you try to sit down and your knees can’t meet your ankles. Keep a pair of safety scissors around just in case.
I’m grateful I didn’t let my nerves get the best of me. The experience taught me that the “scary” and “intense” stereotypes of the BDSM world aren’t universal. Tying can be gentle and kind, something to create connection of all types — with yourself, friends, or sexual partners. I left the class with a fun new hobby and a charge on my credit card for my very own bundle of rope.
Threesomes can be a bit of a juggling act. I’m thinking: ‘Is our guest at ease? Who are they focusing on? Who am I focusing on?’
Felix and I had sex the first afternoon we met, and I remember that he made a huge amount of noise. I have an office on the floor above my apartment and the walls are very thin. I have a vivid memory of being right in the middle of a particularly intimate moment and actually hearing the telephone ringing upstairs through all the racket Felix was making. It suddenly became obvious that if I could hear that telephone, everyone in the office could hear us. I did try to shush Felix a bit, but I found his lack of inhibition refreshing.
We had met on Grindr, and some of the other men I had slept with via the app seemed uneasy with their homosexuality. I live in Spain, and while it’s not exactly dangerous to be gay, life still revolves around the church. I’ve met men who wanted to keep the lights off during sex, or who kept their shirts on, or who begged me to treat them like dirt. Felix was utterly unlike that: he was sunny and playful. He wanted us to have lunch, not just say hello and then take our trousers off.
Felix was sunny and playful. He wanted us to have lunch, not just say hello and then immediately take our trousers off
I am the top with Felix, meaning I am the active partner, whereas Felix is the bottom. But in reality, Felix is much more versatile – he’s just forced to stick to a passive role with me because I can’t physically cope with being the bottom. It’s an anatomical thing. Mentally I’d love to, but physically it simply doesn’t work. Felix and I agree that it’s unfair that I can’t satisfy him in that way, so we decided to open up our relationship. We’ve been together for two years, but every few weeks we will each go out individually and sleep with another man. We also like to meet men together and have threesomes.
Threesomes are sexy, but they take a surprising amount of organisation. We chat to contenders online, and Felix does most of the texting because he is a lot better at flirting than I am. The threesome itself can be a bit of a juggling act. I’ll be thinking: “Is our guest at ease? Who are they focusing on? Who am I focusing on?” It’s like tapping your head and rubbbing your tummy at the same time. I think we’re getting better at them, though. I suppose threesomes, like twosomes, are a learning curve.
Felix, 28
After the initial excitement has worn off with another man, I usually end up missing Lorenzo
My sexual energy is extremely high, and occasionally a little too much for Lorenzo. If we’re in the kitchen, for example, I’ll want to be right behind him at the sink, hugging and touching and grabbing his bum. I don’t think he likes it. He shows his love in other ways, through acts of care and by how attentively he listens. He is less sexual than me, and that is partly why we have decided to sleep with other people.
We are always updating the terms of our arrangement, and part of the deal is that we debrief one another about every man we have sex with. I will show him pictures of the men I have been home with, particularly the cute ones, and talk through their best moves. Lorenzo and I have always been truthful, even about our sexual compatibility. Lorenzo is a top, whereas I like to switch roles. Because he couldn’t give me everything I needed, early on he decided that wasn’t fair on me, so he insisted that we should both be free.
We rarely agree on who’s hot and who’s not. I fancy young-looking, curly haired men. Twinks, really. That’s not his type
Occasionally I will sleep with a particularly attractive guy and then arrange a date to bring him home for a threesome. The trouble is, we rarely agree on who is hot and who is not. Lorenzo has shown me men he liked in the past and I have been like: “Ew.” I fancy young-looking, curly haired men. That’s not his type, but we take it in turns to compromise.
We have strict rules about falling in love. We aren’t allowed to develop feelings for other people. That’s never been a problem for me – after the initial excitement has worn off with another man, I usually end up missing Lorenzo. I’ll be put off by the way this strange man kisses or the way his tongue feels in my mouth. I’ll smell his trashy aftershave and it will make me think of the very specific, fresh scent of Lorenzo’s skin. Every time I sleep with another man, I end up loving Lorenzo a little more.
— For a certain class of extremely online gay man, explicit photos are the go-to gift for friends and followers.
Selfie
By David Mack
When David Dulin celebrated his 36th birthday in March, he asked his Twitter followers for just two things: cash donations to his online payment account, and pictures of them in their own birthday suits.
“It started as a joke, but it’s just become something that we run with,” said Mr. Dulin, a retail worker in Charlotte, N.C. “Almost every birthday I’ll be like, ‘OK, Cash App and nudes: Drop them!’”
Mr. Dulin began coyly asking for nude photographs via social media on his birthday a few years ago as something of a test after seeing other gay men make similar requests on their own birthdays. He was surprised, he said, when some of his online acquaintances delivered on the invitation, admitting that they had been looking for an opportunity to flirt with him.
In recent years, many queer men have begun sending and receiving nude selfies on social media for their birthdays. Variations on “It’s my birthday, send nudes” have been uttered sofrequently online that it has become something of a meme (or, at the very least, a generic way for a gay man to announce his birthday, whether or not he actually expects to receive any explicit images). The practice has become so normalized that the request is sometimes simplified to, “It’s my birthday — you know what to do.”
Brendan Drake, 36, a choreographer in Los Angeles who identifies as genderqueer, said he had made the request so often that this year on his birthday he received nudes from friends without even having to ask. “It’s almost like it was expected,” he said.
The trend of gay men soliciting nudes on their birthday speaks to the unique nature of gay friendships, but also plays into a social media culture that rewards humor, according to Tom Roach, who teaches gender and sexuality studies at Bryant University in Smithfield, R.I.
“I think it’s basically a provocation and a challenge, but in a campy way — it has a certain ‘wink, wink, nod, nod’ feel to it,” said Professor Roach, who has written books on queer friendships and digital relationships. “I don’t think people are sincerely, desperately seeking nude pictures of their friends. I think they’re doing it to be provocative, to be like, ‘Look at how shamelessly sex-positive I am!’”
In many parts of the country, it is not uncommon for gay people to have a more relaxed attitude toward sex, including alternatives to monogamy such as open relationships, and many gay friendships begin as casual sex encounters. A 2022 study also found that 85 percent of respondents who were in same-sex relationships had formed romantic partnerships out of friendships, while only 68 percent of all respondents said they had taken the “friends-to-lovers pathway.”
Gay men, of course, are not a monolith. But given the community was born out of a shared sexual attraction to men, Professor Roach said, it doesn’t surprise him that friendships between gay men today “don’t play by the same rules” as others.
In addition to cellphone cameras making it far easier to quickly snap and send a racy photo, social media apps like Instagram and X — the platform formerly known as Twitter — allow users to curate private lists of “close friends.” For many gay men, the feature can be used to ensure that an open call for birthday nudes reaches only a carefully selected audience — one excluding straight friends and colleagues.
Some of these behaviors mimic well-established practices on hookup apps, where the trading of sexually explicit images can be de rigueur. “It’s also importing some of the norms of Grindr into other platforms that don’t necessarily traffic in nudes,” Professor Roach said. “It’s kind of like worlds colliding.”
A birthday can also pose an opportunity for someone ordinarily too shy to solicit nudes to do so in a socially sanctioned way, while the messages themselves can function as an all-purpose declaration of consent for others to shoot their shot in the most risqué way possible.
“It really feels like a way of publicly doing so where the shame will just be slightly less,” said Manuel Betancourt, 38, the author of “The Male Gazed,” a collection of essays on thirst traps and queer longing. “Then, it can be a door, or it can be a window, or it could be sort of an opening into something else.”
The decision to send a birthday nude is often predicated on feelings of attraction, but it’s not always about seeking sex. Jake Niemeyer, a 32-year-old television editor in Los Angeles, said he had sent birthday nudes to online acquaintances as far away as Scotland with no expectations of physical intimacy.
“There’s next to no chance I will ever see this person in-person,” Mr. Niemeyer said. “But still, I find them attractive, they say they find me attractive and that’s kind of a nice feeling. It’s a safe way for both of you to have a micro sexual interaction.”
In a group that often celebrates and rewards idealized muscular bodies, leading some gay men to develop body-image issues, the act of swapping nudes with trusted friends can actually prove to be deeply affirming.
“It’s very body-positive,” said Zachary Zane, 32, a bisexual sex columnist. “You feel sexy, you feel affirmed, you feel validated and loved by your friends. It’s not an invitation to hook up; it’s more so us actually just supporting each other and showing each other love.”
The pandemic isolation of 2020 may have fueled the sharing of nude images among gay men who felt cut off from one another. For Mr. Drake, the choreographer, those fearful months made him worry less about whether his nude images were floating around online. Alone for several months with just his phone for company, he also found important intimacy in trading nudes with friends.
Having an online outlet for sexual expression “was actually a little lifesaving for me,” Mr. Drake said. “A lot of people will call it toxic, but I don’t think it’s toxic. I think it’s really life-affirming.”
Young people do not fall into neat categories of race, sexual orientation or gender identity. Research into LGBTQ mental health must take that into account
Our youth are in a mental health crisis. Young people describe steadily increasing sadness, hopelessness and suicidal thoughts. These mental health challenges are greater for youth who hold marginalized identities that include sexual orientation, gender identity or race or ethnicity. Near-constant exposure to traumatizing media and news stories, such as when Black youth watch videos of people who look like them being killed or when transgender youth hear multiple politicians endorse and pass laws that deny their very existence, compounds these disparities.
But young people do not fall into neat categories of race, ethnicity, sexual orientation or gender identity. They reject antiquated norms and societal expectations, especially around gender and sexuality. Yet most research on people in this group, especially on LGBTQ youth, does not fully account for how they identify themselves. Approaching research as though sex is binary and gender is exact leads to incomplete data. This mistake keeps us from creating the best possible mental health policies and programs.
We need to collect robust data on specific populations of LGBTQ young people to better understand the unique risks they face, such as immigration concerns that Latinx youth may have that others may not. We can also better understand factors that uphold well-being, such as how family support affects Black trans and nonbinary youth.
LGBTQ young people of color, including those who identify in more nuanced ways than either gay or lesbian, are more likely to struggle with their mental health than their white LGBTQ counterparts. As researchers, if we can equip ourselves with this information about their unique needs and experiences, we can create intervention strategies that support the mental health of every LGBTQ young person rather than attempting to apply a “broad strokes” approach that assumes what works for one group must work for all.
As director of research science at the Trevor Project, the premier suicide prevention organization for LGBTQ youth, I lead projects that examine LGBTQ young people and their mental health in an intersectional way, accounting for the many facets of their identities and how society and culture influence how they value themselves. I and my colleagues conduct studies with groups of people who are geographically diverse and gender- and race-diverse to understand what drives mental health distress in a way that allows us to address specific needs in different populations. For advocates trying to improve mental health outcomes, this means they must consider stigma, how it turns into victimization, discrimination, and rejection and how it disproportionately affects people who hold multiple marginalized identities.
Our 2023 U.S. National Survey on the Mental Health of LGBTQ Young People, for example, found that LGBTQ youth with multiple marginalized identities reported greater suicide risk, compared with their peers who did not have more than one marginalized identity. To learn this, we asked young people demographic questions about race/ethnicity, sexual orientation and gender identity amid a battery of assessments. Based on survey questions about mental health and suicide risk, we’ve found that nearly one in five transgender or nonbinary young people (18 percent) attempted suicide in the past year, compared with nearly one in 10 cisgender young people whose sexual orientation was lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, pansexual, asexual or questioning (8 percent). Among almost all groups of LGBTQ young people of color, the rates of those who said they had attempted suicide—22 percent of Indigenous youth, 18 percent of Middle Eastern/Northern African youth, 16 percent of Black youth, 17 percent of multiracial youth and 15 percent of Latinx youth—were higher than that of white LGBTQ youth (11 percent). And youth who identified as pansexual attempted suicide at a significantly higher rate than lesbian, gay, bisexual, queer, asexual and questioning youth.
The majority of research exploring LGBTQ young people’s mental health does not have the sample size to do subgroup analyses in this way or, in rare cases, opts to unnecessarily aggregate findings (such as when bisexual young people are not analyzed separately despite representing the majority of the LGBTQ population). Our recruitment goals are set on finding enough people in harder-to-reach groups, such as Black transgender and nonbinary young people, and not to simply have a high overall sample size. In doing so, we are able to analyze findings specific to each group and also ensure these findings reach a wide audience. However, just as other researchers, when we are unable to collect enough data for subgroups to appropriately power our analyses, we do not publish those findings.
What we hope is that people working in small community settings can design targeted prevention programs. For example, an organization that aims to improve well-being among Latinx LGBTQ young people can also provide appropriate support for immigration laws and policies because immigration issues feed into mental health. Or an organization focused on family and community support among Asian Americans and Pacific Islanders can also focus on LGBTQ young people. The data we have gathered can informed services at organizations such as Desi Rainbow Parents & Allies, National Black Justice Coalition (NBJC) and the Ali Forney Center, among others.
Researchers must be intentional about which aspects of sexual orientation and gender identity are most relevant to the questions they are trying to answer when designing their studies. They must use survey items closely matched to those categories. Researchers must find a balance between nuance and analytic utility—allowing young people to describe their own identities in addition to using categorical descriptors. This can look like including open-ended questions or longer lists of identity options. Taking steps like these are critical for collecting and analyzing data that reflect the multitudes of this diverse group of young people. I urge researchers to apply an intersectional lens to their work and public health officials and youth-serving organizations to tailor services and programming to meet the unique needs of all young people. That’s because a “one-size-fits-all” approach has never and will never work when the goal is to save lives.
IF YOU NEED HELP
If you or someone you know is struggling or having thoughts of suicide, help is available. Call or text the 988 Suicide & Crisis Lifeline at 988 or use the online Lifeline Chat. LGBTQ+ Americans can reach out to the Trevor Project by texting START to 678-678 or calling 1-866-488-7386.
The use of the word “queer” has become so widespread that it’s now represented by the letter “Q” in the initialism LGBTQ+. However, some individuals find the word offensive or feel that it doesn’t represent them.
A closer look at the word reveals how it became a slur, how LGBTQ+ activists and academics have reclaimed the word, and the way its definition continues to change in the face of social and political challenges.
Understanding the term “Queer”
The current Oxford Languages Dictionary defines “queer” as an old-fashioned verb meaning “to spoil or ruin” and an adjective meaning either “strange, odd” or “relating to a sexual or gender identity that does not correspond to established ideas of sexuality and gender, especially heterosexual norms.”
That last definition, in simpler words, means that “queer” is an umbrella term for people who aren’t heterosexual or cisgender.
“Queer” first popped up in the English language during the 16th century as a synonym for “strange” and “illegitimate.” In the 19th century, it began to mean “odd,” and by the end of that century, people used it as a slur against effeminate men and men who slept with other men.
However, in the 1980s, some gay and lesbian activists began reclaiming “queer” as an empowering self-designation. Academics also began studying “queer theory” to examine so-called traditional “norms” of sex and gender and their intersection with political identities and social power structures.
The word’s meaning continues to evolve, even now. Some people user queer as a verb that means “to challenge something’s commonly expected function” or as an adjective that includes any intimate practices or familial structures that fall outside of mainstream “norms.”
“‘Queer is still a word that many find offensive,” NPR’s editor for standards and practices Mark Memmott explained in 2019. “For many people, it’s still a difficult word to hear or read because of the past history.”
Jason DeRose, a senior editor who oversaw coverage of LGBTQ+ rights at NPR in 2019, noted that some members of older generations, like Baby Boomers, may find the term problematic or hurtful because it was used for decades as a slur, particularly during years when LGBTQ+ identities were criminalized and considered as forms of mental illness.
Often the slur was used while verbally harassing or assaulting people who were perceived as different. Such insults could raise suspicions about one’s identity and private life and leave them subject to discrimination, investigation, or other social consequences — like being fired from a job or disowned from a family — as a result.
However, younger generations, like Millenials and Gen Xers, tend to be more comfortable with the term, having grown up at a time of greater societal acceptance towards LGBTQ+ people.
Reclaiming the term “Queer”
In the late 1980s and early ’90s, some LGBTQ+ people began using “queer” as a neutral or empowering self-identity that signified people who aren’t heterosexual or who aren’t cisgender.
Some of these people re-claimed “queer” to throw the slur back in society’s face or to show a defiant Pride in the very identities that society long told them to feel ashamed and afraid of. As the number of proud “queers” increased, it gradually became harder to treat all LGBTQ+ people like a powerless minority.
One of the earliest well-known reclaimers of the slur was the LGBTQ+ direct-action activist group Queer Nation. The group emerged to fight queerphobia during the HIV epidemic by raising the visibility of queer people in non-queer public spaces, like bars.
Queer Nation used the well-known protest chant — “We’re Here! We’re Queer! Get used to it!” — to communicate an unwillingness to go back into the closet or behave as others expected.
The group’s chapters in other states distributed informational pamphlets about queer sex and famous queers throughout history; held a “kiss-in” at the 1992 Academy Awards red carpet to protest queer exclusion in Hollywood films; massively protested homophobic entertainers and incidents of anti-queer violence; arranged a “Pink Panther” street patrol to prevent queer-bashings; and broadcast video of two milk-covered men kissing on public access television.
These actions weren’t just to make heterosexual people uncomfortable — they were also meant to encourage other queers to creatively challenge the systems of heteronormativity that often treated LGBTQ+ people as easy targets for violence, harassment, and exclusion.
Some activists have taken the idea a step further with “queercore” and “queer shame,” a punk rock approach that rejects the idea that LGBTQ+ people should be respectable, otherwise indistinguishable from straight people, and “brand-safe” for large companies and political movements to exploit.
Current usage of “Queer”
The meaning of “queer” has also changed in response to academic thinkers in the field of “queer studies.”
Examinations of sexuality and gender once resided in the “Women’s Studies” departments of colleges and universities. The earliest thinkers in this field examined how “traditional” conceptions of gender, sexuality, identity, and desire create socio-political power structures that can be explored, critiqued, and challenged. “Queer studies” emerged from this discipline as an interdisciplinary field.
Queer thinkers challenge the idea that individual identities are fixed and unchanging, that gender and sexuality are binary, and that sexual practices are either normal or abnormal. Rather than treating heterosexuality and cisgender identities as “normal” or “natural,” queer theorists believe that sexuality and gender are socially constructed by cultural media and individually performed by how people publicly present themselves. These can change depending on the time, place, and context.
Not all people agree that “queer” is the same as “gay.” For some, queerness refers to people whose identities, lived experiences, and outlooks fall out of the mainstream as well as the protection of the mainstream.
For example, a gay, cisgender, white, Christian, American man might not be considered “queer” by some because his mainstream identities may grant him more social protections than a Black, pansexual, transgender, female immigrant living in Iraq. This woman’s unique identities aren’t nearly as “mainstream” as the gay man’s and don’t provide nearly as many social protections.
“Queer” has also increasingly been used as a verb that means “to challenge something’s commonly expected function.” One can “queer” social expectations by identifying, behaving, and appearing in ways that challenge preexisting social norms. For example, someone can “queer” the institution of marriage by having multiple sexual or emotional partners, not living with their spouse, or having relationship rules and familial structures that don’t follow the “traditional nuclear family.”
For example, polyamory and kink both fall outside of legal protections: You can legally be fired or have your children taken away for both, and both — like LGBTQ+ identity — have been vilified as forms of social deviance and mental illness.
But using “queer” in this way would qualify some heterosexual and cisgender people as “queer,” an idea that might upset some LGBTQ+ people who disapprove of straight polyamorists and ministers applying an anti-queer slur to themselves. However, other LGBTQ+ individuals might be fine with straight “queers” as long as the heterosexuals elevate LGBTQ+ voices and advocate for LGBTQ+ rights.
Others might dislike “queer” as a catch-all term for any non-hetero and non-cis people because it erases their unique identities, lumping them all together in one category rather than proclaiming their unique sexual orientation and gender identity. Such people might proclaim, “I’m not queer, I’m lesbian,” or “I’m not ‘queer’ — I’m ‘omnisexual!’”
As always, it’s important to allow people to self-identify with whatever terms they feel most comfortable with, and to allow community members to accept it or to experience productive tensions and dialogues about what it means to be queer.
The Running Debate Over Using “Queer”
Over the last half-century, queer has transformed from a hateful slur to a political identity that challenges cis-heteronormativity. While some people still find “queer” offensive or feel that it erases their unique identities and experiences, others find it empowering and a useful way to grow a cultural movement while critiquing oppressive socio-political structures around sex, gender, desire, identity, and power.
The term remains a complex and slippery one that will likely change, especially as people gain a greater understanding of the many ways they identify with and experience sex and gender. For some, “queer” will be an important identity (something they are). For others, “queer” will be an important action (something they do).
Some LGBTQ+ people may reject the “queer” label entirely, but regardless, it’ll always remain important to understand the context in which it is used and to respect each individual’s choice of language.
It found that same-sex sexual behaviour among monkeys made them better friends, and more likely to back each other up in conflicts.
A new study, published in Nature Ecology & Evolution, focused on 236 males within a wild colony of 1,700 rhesus macaques on a Puerto Rican island over three years.
The findings suggest that “same-sex sexual behaviours” (SSB) have evolved and could be a common feature of primate reproduction, challenging beliefs that this is rare in non-human animals.
More specifically, with all social mountings of the 236 males recorded (male-on-male and male-on-female), 72 per cent engaged in same-sex mounting compared with 46 per cent different-sex mounting.
Jackson Clive, from Imperial’s Georgina Mace Centre for the Living Planet, who worked on the study, said they found “most males were behaviourally bisexual”.
He added: “Variation in same-sex activity was heritable. This means that the behaviour can have an evolutionary underpinning: for example, we also found that males that mounted each other were also more likely to back each other up in conflicts. Perhaps this could be one of many social benefits to same-sex sexual activity.”
He hoped the results would encourage further discoveries.
Lead researcher, professor Vincent Savolainen, said their mission was to “advance scientific understanding of same-sex behaviour, including exploring the benefits it brings to nature and within animal societies”.
Same-sex behaviour ‘benefits’ societies
He highlighted how “more than two-thirds displayed same-sex behaviour and this strengthened the bonds within the community”.
The professor went on: “Unfortunately, there is still a belief among some people that same-sex behaviour is unnatural, and some countries sadly still enforce the death penalty for homosexuality.
“Our research shows that same-sex behaviour is in fact widespread among non-human animals.”
“Our mission is to advance scientific understanding of same-sex behaviour, including exploring the benefits it brings to nature and within animal societies.”
SSB has been observed in thousands of different animals. There are a range of theories as to why but little data to support any of them.
— Provides comprehensive, and inclusive, sexual education
“This Book is Gay,” by Juno Dawson.
By Ali Velshi and Hannah Holland
“This Book is Gay,” by Juno Dawson, starts with a welcome: “There’s a long-running joke that, on ‘coming out,’ a young lesbian, gay guy, bisexual, or trans person should receive a membership card and instruction manual. This is your instruction manual.” And “This Book is Gay” reads as exactly that: a guide.
Each fact-based chapter is interspersed with a candid, first-person narrative collected from real people.
Equal parts humorous and informative, this nonfiction young adult book is divided into sections: identity, stereotypes, queer history, coming out and relationships — including sexual relationships. Each fact-based chapter is interspersed with candid, first-person narratives collected from real people.
Dawson is a guide with credentials, having spent nearly a decade as a sexual education and wellness teacher in the U.K. before turning to writing full-time. She came out as transgender publicly in 2015 and is a staunch advocate for the LGBTQ+ community.
“The Ins and Outs of Gay Sex,” a chapter positioned toward the end of the book, opens with text outlined to make you take notice, “This Chapter is about sex. […] If you are a younger reader and feel you aren’t ready for the finer details of same-sex pairings, then simply skip this whole chapter.” The chapter goes on to include potentially lifesaving information on sexually transmitted infections, including HIV and AIDS, diagrams of sexual organs, like you might see in health class, and a commentary on love and relationships.
Much has been written about the sheer number of books banned these past two school years (a record 1,477 instances of individual books banned in the first half of this school year according to PEN America) and the fact that a disproportionately high number of those titles tell LGBTQ+ stories. “This Book is Gay” is frequently near the top of the American Library Association’s list of most banned books.
Most of the books we feature on the “Velshi Banned Book Club” are literature, including contemporary works of poetry and graphic novels. The conversation surrounding the accessibility of those works is ultimately a conversation about the value of literature for students and for society. Conversely, the conversation surrounding “This Book is Gay” is about the necessity for comprehensive and, most importantly, inclusive sexual education. As Dawson so saliently reminds readers, the exclusion of same-sex couples in the typical sex-ed class is nothing short of “institutional homophobia.”
Sexual education of any kind is rapidly disappearing and changing across the nation. Florida’s Broward County, which includes Fort Lauderdale, ended this school year with no sexual education at all. Georgia’s Gwinnett County, just outside of Atlanta, has voted to stick with abstinence-only education. School districts across Kentucky have had to overhaul their curriculum to comply with new bans on sex education, gender identity and student pronouns. This is happening all over the nation, state by state.
Of course, many of the arguments made against “This Book is Gay” center around antiquated views of gender expression and sexuality, but they’re also made in bad faith, including labeling this book as “inappropriate.” For a certain age group, this book is inappropriate. This book is not for young children — which is why it is not written for or marketed to them. Educators and proponents of inclusive sexual education, who may have used this book as an educational resource or noted its spot on a library shelf, are not intending for it to be used to teach young children.
Florida’s Broward County, which includes Fort Lauderdale, ended this school year with no sexual education at all.
“This Book is Gay” is for those young adults already grappling with their sexuality and identity. It is for those who are already looking for a safe space, understanding, or a guide through the dense jungle of teenage years. A group, I might add, that has had access to the full depths of the internet for their entire lives. It is the best-case, and least-likely, scenario that any one of them learned about sex, relationships and sexual identity through school-mandated sexual education or with the help of books that could be read and discussed with their parents.
The reality is this: At some point between high school, college and young adulthood, most everyone will be confronted with a situation related to sex and sexuality. “I didn’t know anything about myself. […] I was so unprepared and, now as an adult I see that I was left very vulnerable. I didn’t fully understand consent, I didn’t fully understand boundaries, I didn’t understand that I could say no to things,” explains Dawson in an interview on the Velshi Banned Book Club.
Relationships can be the most beautiful and rewarding part of life, and they can also be the most damaging, physically and emotionally. By prohibiting access to valuable resources like “This Book is Gay,” we are leaving already vulnerable LGBTQ+ young adults with nowhere to turn.
Sending our young people, regardless of sexual orientation, into the world without a comprehensive understanding of how to prevent sexually transmitted infections or pregnancy is a huge problem. Sending our young people into the world without a conversation about what respect looks like within a relationship is a major issue. Sending our young people into the world without a conversation about who exactly they are is nothing short of a crisis.
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