Our limitless rainbow

June 11, 2018

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Art by Bryan Ngo

More frequently, we’re seeing the queer community make waves across the world: in media, academia, government, and even religion. Like other social justice movements, we’ve managed to infiltrate the mainstream and are slowly (yet persistently) moving towards an age where we’re seen as equals by the “standard-bearers” of the world (read: mostly cisgender white men in places of power). Still, there remains a front where heavy introspection and action are needed: within our own community.

As a gay man, I’ve seen discrimination (whether towards myself or others) countless times. We’ve all heard these lines before: ‘wag kang masyadong malambot; discreet lang, pare; gymfit only. The list gets even longer when you approach it from a global perspective – “no fats, no femmes, no Asians” has been floating around our collective consciousness (Grindr, especially) for years.

While these may seem like simple preferences, chances are, they go far deeper than that. We’ve adhered to standards which were used to discriminate people considered as lesser, and twisted and applied them to our own community. Somehow, “out but not loud” became the mantra of gay men around the world who deem themselves better than their effeminate counterparts. We’ve internalized in our daily lives the homophobia and misogyny people have used against us for years.

In an already marginalized group, why do we feel the need to other those in the same boat? And even more insidiously, why do we feel the need to fit in with those who’ve oppressed us in the past, and pattern ourselves after the standards they’ve used to set us apart? Passing as straight has its roots in the need to survive in a much more prohibitive society, and for a lot of us it still is a method for survival. But there are some who’ve funnelled it into a queer ideal, into a quality that supposedly elevates one from the rest.

To wave the pride flag is to declare what unifies us, to wave every single color in the spectrum.

This thinking bleeds over to the rest of the LGBTQIA+. There have been years and years of inside jokes where lesbians hate gays, gays hate bisexuals, and homosexuals just shrug at the transgendered. Sadly, these things carry some truth. We see the “gaywashing” of the contributions the rest of the queer and trans community has made in the fight for equality. In an already oppressed group, we see even further oppression among ourselves.

With a whole month to show our pride, how about showing pride for other LGBTQ+ people? To wave the pride flag is to declare what unifies us, to wave every single color in the spectrum. Our differences may separate us, but it is through these where we persevered and thrived in the face of adversity. Our history of struggle shows that it is in coming together where we are at our strongest.

Pride these days should transcend declaring our existence to the straight world; it should show our acceptance—no, celebration—of each other, and that we’ve lain to rest the heteronormative standards once imposed upon us. And alongside our celebration of diversity is our continuous fight for inclusivity; a sense of care and attention given to those who remain at the margins. For those who are strong enough to shine, there’s a lot of pride left to give. A rainbow, after all, can be seen as limitless.