Homophobia is rooted in history and remains intact today, often in ways we fail to recognize. For example, assigning labels to sexual orientation is the product of wanting to identify and separate queer people from heterosexual/cisgender people.
Within the LGBTQ+ community, labels may help people understand the experiences of those who fall under each category. However, outside of the community, these labels perpetuate stereotypes and pressure people to choose a specific identity.
My experience with labels has led me to conclude that I’m least anxious when I don’t assign myself one. Being a queer woman, and knowing so since the end of sixth grade, I’ve witnessed and been silenced by mistreatment towards minorities, including gay and trans people. I’ve learned that labels, to the heterosexual public, make a big difference.
Throughout middle and high school, I remember gay men who were suppressed around straight men, instead finding comfort in female friendships. Women were like a safe space, perhaps because they understood how it felt to be treated like subordinates to men.
As a result, people assumed that shy men and men with predominantly female friendships were gay, which was very restrictive to those who found themselves somewhere in-between—not quite gay, but not quite straight either. The label diminished a third possibility.
Women contribute to reducing queer men to a label as well. Physical cleanliness (attractiveness), emotional intelligence, or artistic inclination in a man leads some women to believe he’s too feminine to be into women.
This stereotype, which is damaging to men who may want to identify as bisexual, is enforced in popular media. Think about how often we see gay men in TV shows, books, movies, and social media compared to bisexual men.
During their upbringing, gay women might also find comfort in friendships with the opposite sex. However, regardless of their sexual orientation, being a woman makes them socially subordinate to men, so they find themselves stuck in a gray area.
If a gay woman is on the masculine side, she’s picked on by girls and boys alike. If she’s feminine, she gets accepted into girlhood but is suppressed over time as she realizes that other women won’t respond to her queerness with the same interest or acceptance as they would heterosexuality.
In this case, men contribute to the reduction of queer women to a label. They sexualize confused feminine sapphics who think exploring their sexuality is only appropriate when validated by a male figure. Masculine sapphics, on the other hand, are held to the standards of toxic masculinity and often treated with less respect by men and women alike because they pose a threat to preconceived notions of masculinity and femininity.
Another superimposed, heteronormative concept that displays itself in queer relationships is the desire to label one partner as the “man” or “woman” of a relationship, regardless of their sex.
This label is assumed depending on whether one partner appears more masculine or feminine. From what I’ve seen, this assumption puts particular pressure on queer women to express their role and avoid being perceived as one or the other option: a “masc lesbian” (which has a negative connotation) or a “fem.”
Each relationship ultimately becomes a power play, where the masculine partner is stereotypically thought to, and at times even expected to, conform to the role of a traditional male partner.
This understanding of labels manifested itself in me when I contemplated my sexual orientation in greater depth throughout high school and even now. The idea of being a “lesbian,” a word with such a poor, sexualized stigma surrounding it, was unthinkable until now.
I come from highly religious origins, but moving away from my hometown has made me more comfortable with understanding my sexuality. Yet, accepting one term still feels restrictive.
A common experience among queer women is the hope that the “perfect” man will magically appear and reverse the queerness before it has solidified. This mindset is male-centered, but I’ve found it very hard to escape, and I see the difficulty others have with doing so as well.
A problem unique to queer women is that having absolutely no male in a relationship may cause fears of external dangers and appears more taboo. Some unexpected, seemingly genuine attraction to men could create further inner conflicts, often out of desperation, clinging onto any ounce of heterosexuality.
Adults who continue to suppress themselves to avoid marginalization, whether that be by closing themselves off to the possibility of liking the same sex or resonating with a different gender, are victims of labels. Giving a name to sexual identities and orientations comes with many risks.
My solution is to emphasize the fluidity of your identity. Humans tend to become attached to concepts they can use to rationalize their emotions, forgetting the complexity of attraction. Labels are a form of such rationalization. We should try to detach ourselves from them if they carry too much power over who we think we are.
If you like labels, I suggest finding peace within yourself before committing to one to ensure that stereotypes won’t stop you from being yourself. We have more motivation to fight for our freedom if we’re wholeheartedly sure that it’s what we want.
Take the time to experiment, and don’t allow your inner self to be defined so easily.
Want to keep up with HCBU? Make sure to like us on Facebook, follow us on Instagram, check out our Pinterest board, watch us on TikTok, and read our latest Tweets!