Thanks for free validation on the last post, Interwebs. I felt good about myself for the entire hour it takes me to get home from work. Self-esteem is my (temporary, in transit, contingent on how productive I think I have been as is validated by strangers) bitch!
I will thank you for your love and support by making a funny. Remember, comedy is in the eye of the beholder, so if you think I’m not being funny, I suggest you get an eye test.
Wow, that was awful.
MOVING ON! As you can probably tell by the title, this post is going to talk about mentally not so OK queeple, which, in essence, is all queeple (your heathen ass is probably going “but that’s not a word, Anirudh. You have to use words”. Can it, cishet), and that is really what this post is about.
Now, I have been queer for a very long time. I have also had a standing vacancy for the post of Mental Health Regulation Officer for some time (I also have a standing vacancy at my office for a Communications Officer and now my life seems meaningless). Interestingly, my gay hit hard around the same time as my mental faculties decided that it’s a lovely day for a stroll. Some would say there seems to be correlation and/or causation here, but I don’t like that thought so I will entertain it (silent nod to therapy session scheduled for later this week. Hi).
But let me not make this blog post (written by me, on my blog, completely for my own satisfaction and, apparently, with a readership of only me) about me. To the well-organised mind (yes. Yes, I did say that in my best Dumbledore impression. Yes, I am not ashamed), the intersectionality (so many activists just ejaculated) between queer identity and mental health is very easy to spot. And what I mean by that is: it’s easy to see how every queer you know is bat-fucking-shit.
I gathered a bunch of baby queers on Saturday (as I try to do every Saturday in an attempt to concentrate queer energy in a space small enough that it results in a queer black hole and consumes everything. We, of course, know that the baby queers have the greatest queer energy, like wizard children in Harry Potter, or Jack Jack) and we were talking about lurve in a decidedly, deliciously queer fashion.
And of course, the conversation turned to mental (dis)health. Before we knew it, we were talking about Grindr and self-worth, sexual preferences and body image issues, condoms and the gag reflex, dating in the queer world and attachment issues, etc. (only one of these things is a lie. Spotted the lie? Tell me in the comments!).
According to, like, a buncha research, LGBTQ+ people are much more likely to have the coocoos, such as depression, anxiety, eating disorders, body image issues, the tendency to snap finger at everything, a partiality to iced coffee, etc. And with a little bit of reading and thinking (whoa preachy queer alert), it’s easy to see why.
Yo, is it really a surprise that the queers are fucked up? We have next to no representation of how we are supposed to go about life in media or any content that we consume. We spend the earliest stages of our coming out asking “wait what the fuck is this?”, the answer to which is almost always “it’s something wrong, ew, gross”.
Most of us enter into the acceptance of our sexual orientations and gender identities through hypersexualised or intellectualised conversations. We are only aware of how internally we feel gender and sexuality when we take it upon ourselves to read and talk and read and research and read and read and read. I can’t even draw a parallel that would help cishet folks understand, because how do you tell someone what it feels like to justify your identity either in terms of whom you’re fucking and how often, or what the textbooks say about you?
In fact, there is so much pressure on the queers who are out to validate their queer identity that even being comfortable with your identity feels like a fresh challenge (no wonder the bisexuals are the most depressed; literally no one wants to either accept them or accept that they are bisexual. Poor fucks). Your sexuality is validated through sexual acts; your gender identity through gender expression; your mental health through the amount of gin you can stomach on a weekday and not be late for work the next day.
Let’s forget about the asexual and the aromantic and the gender-fluid and the gender-nonconforming folks for a second (as the world already does quite well) and look at mental health from the context of those queer identities that are more accepted/heard of in the mainstream. You constantly invalidate a person’s identity and sense of self, you allow that person to only find themselves through a gruelling journey of discovery at an age where one needs nurture and guidance, you tell someone that their identity is wrong, or only right in the particular ways which you think are right, and you will end up either creating a monster or someone who is in perpetual battle with their inner self.
This attitude, the lack of acceptance and nurture, the lack of understanding of how deep identity runs, they are the roots of dysphoria, depression, anxiety, borderline personality issues, body image and self-worth issues, and so much more.
Do It Yourself: Identify and approach a queer near you. Make sure to be armed with a sweet treat or substance that one can abuse (cigarettes and alcohol work best, but pictures of Matt Bomer at the beach will also do). Carry along a notepad and ask your newly spotted queer about things like puppies, mirrors, coffee, etc. Note down the reactions. Use earplugs when the screaming begins and offer a tissue when the crying begins.
I can feel the cishets wanting to pull an “All Lives Matter” here. I speak now directly to you, my privileged brethren: no one is saying you aren’t fucked up, too (in fact, most of the time, we are saying that you are especially fucked up), but we are talking about understanding why the incidence of mental health issues is higher in LGBTQ+ identified persons, and how a lot of those mental health issues are linked to how society treats non-normative genders and sexualities.
Here’s what you can do to help instead of going down the #mentoo path: read. Ask questions. Be kind. Be an ally.
Understanding that queeple might be going through things that you have no idea about is the first step in not dismissing us for being “sensitive”, “melodramatic”, “flamboyant” (this isn’t really in the same vein but if I hear one more cishet person call someone from the community flamboyant so help me god…) or whatever choice words you think are sanctioned alongside privilege.
Also important is realising that everyone, everyone, is prone to mental health issues (yay All Lives Matter yay) and that having those issues is not a sign of weakness or immorality or the result of deviant, incorrect behaviour (looking at you, psychiatry intern when I was in college who told me “you should become heterosexual again. It will solve your depression”. Dipshit).
Queeple: we are fucked up. It’s OK. We’ll find a way out.
Now go get that coffee, you!
