The LGBTQ Acronym: More Than a Random Collection of Letters
The letters that comprise the acronym are not haphazard; they are history embodied and tell the story of the modern American Gay Rights Movement.
“Ideas, concepts, and words
have separated us from life.
Masquerading as friends,
they have made us enemies
of each other.Free of our own prejudices,
we act with spontaneity.
We move naturally.
We accomplish what is necessary.”
— William Martin, The Activist’s Tao Te Ching
Karl Heinrich Ulrichs was the first self-proclaimed homosexual to publicly speak out for homosexual rights in Western society. On August 29th, 1867, he called for the repeal of all anti-homosexual laws in Germany at the Congress of German Jurists in Munich. A lawyer by training, Ulrichs believed that people were born homosexual and that homosexuals were innately different from heterosexual men and women, though not inferior. Because homosexuals could not help or alter their situation, he argued, they should not be thought of as criminal or deviant, and should be afforded fundamental human rights. Unfortunately, Ulrichs’ call for the decriminalization of homosexuality at the Munich Congress largely went unheard.
Ulrichs did not think of himself as gay, or even as homosexual, however. Nineteenth-century sexologists and scholars experimented with a variety of terminology to describe and label persons who fit into their emerging theories of those who were attracted to the same gender, or those whose sense of gender did not align with their sexual anatomy. Ulrichs referred to himself, and others like him, as a Urning, a term which inevitably sounds foreign to us today. Ulrichs saw Urnings as a third gender existing between men and women. Male Urnings, in his formulation, were “male-bodied” people with the souls of women, and female Urning were “female-bodied” people with the souls of men, thus explaining their same-gender attractions in a social context where male and female were seen as “natural” sexual and romantic counterparts. The term “Urning” was derived from a Greek myth in which the goddess Aphrodite Urania was born after Zeus severed the testicles of the god Uranus and they fell into the ocean from which Aphrodite emerged. Ulrichs felt an affinity with this story because Aphrodite Urania was not the product of a heterosexual coupling.
Today, if you called someone a Urning, most people would think you were talking about an alien species, not members of the modern LGBTQ community (though I’m sure some conservatives do indeed view members of the community as “aliens”). While some have bemoaned the “alphabet soup” of letters that now represents the community, terminology used to describe gender and sexuality has shifted throughout history. Because language is always, to a degree, imprecise and fails to capture the complexity of human experience, people have long experimented with ways to articulate the complex tangle that is gender and sexuality. Language innovation is an integral part of civil rights and social justice work, and creating labels to define and describe gender and human desire is nothing new.
While there have been people in the past who were similar to our modern understanding of what it means to be queer or transgender, prior to the late-nineteenth century, the concept of individuals having a distinct sexual identity did not exist. Gay identity, as both a personal and political category, did not fully emerge until the mid-twentieth century. Historical terminology often lacked the specificity that exists today. The British sexologist Havelock Ellis, for example, referred to both people who we would today identify as gay or transgender as “sexual inverts,” which he defined as exhibiting both same-gender attraction and a gender presentation socially contrary to the sex one was assigned at birth.
The term “homosexual,” coined in 1869 by the Hungarian doctor Karoly Maria Benkert, who wrote under the pseudonym K.M. Kertbeny, was not in popular usage till the early twentieth century. Mid-twentieth-century homosexual activists preferred the term “homophile” over homosexual, seeing it as a more neutral and acceptable option because it removed the word “sexual” while positively affirming same-gender attraction.
“Gay” emerged as an underground term in the early-twentieth century and came into popular usage in the 1960s. The term was preferred by the Stonewall generation, who, contrary to their predecessors, were less likely to see being queer as shameful or a mental defect. Post-Stonewall activists sought to articulate a more radical position removed from the image of respectability homophile organizations sought to cultivate. Though today “gay” typically refers to men who are attracted to men, it was historically used as a broad term that encompassed the entirety of the modern LGBTQ acronym.
The term lesbian comes from the Greek island of Lesbos, associated with the poet Sappho, whose surviving writing details erotic love and attraction between women. Despite the use of “gay” as an umbrella term for gender and sexual minorities, the advent of the mid-to-late twentieth-century Women’s Movement (also referred to as the second wave of the U.S. feminist movement) gave gay women the consciousness to articulate how their experiences differed from both heterosexual women, who comprised the majority of the Women’s Movement, and gay men. The articulation of a distinct lesbian identity was often necessitated by exclusions gay women faced in feminist and gay organizations. Betty Friedan, the founder of the National Organization for Women (NOW), infamously referred to lesbians as “the lavender menace,” suggesting that their presence would hinder the goals of the organization by furthering the assumption that all feminists were man-hating lesbians. Likewise, lesbians often experienced overt sexism in post-Stonewall gay organizations such as the Gay Liberation Front (GLF) and the Gay Activists Alliance (GAA).
Still, until the 1990s, “gay” was often used as a shorthand to refer to the entire spectrum of sexual and gender minorities. This usage shifted with the rise of bisexual, transgender, and queer movements, giving birth to the four-letter LGBT acronym, which was seen as more inclusive than broadly referring to the community as the “gay community.” These ’90s movements, while in many ways distinct, were connected by the common theme of questioning and critiquing identity binaries such as gay/straight, man/woman, masculine/feminine, and gender and sexuality norms more broadly, as well as articulating a sense of identity that was complex, fluid, and changing. The term transgender, in particular, was forwarded and popularized by activists such as Kate Bornstein, Leslie Feinberg, and Riki Wilchins, to create a coalition of persons who defied typical gender categories and expectations. The letter “Q” was sometimes added to the acronym, alternatively referring to “queer,” or to include those who were “questioning” their sexual orientation or gender identity. The term “queer” can alternately refer to a reclaimed identity (literally meaning “odd” or “quaint,” the word historically became a derogatory term for gays), an identity that expresses a more radical, militant, or confrontational approach to sexual politics, and an umbrella term that encompass anyone or anything outside of gender and sexuality norms.
Since the 1990s, different versions of the acronym have proliferated as increasingly nuanced ways to understand and define people’s lived experience of gender and sexuality have been articulated. One expanded version of the acronym in use is LGBTQQIP2SAA, which stands for: lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender, queer, questioning, intersex, pansexual, two spirit, asexual, and ally. While this version is certainly inclusive of the myriad ways people understand gender and sexual identity, it is not necessarily efficient. It is difficult to remember, let alone say, and will invariably result in giving those not familiar with the community a terminology lesson. While inclusive, are expanded versions of the acronym actually less effective in creating increased acceptance and awareness because they are too complicated and unwieldy? Perhaps — and this is a fundamental question to consider.
Some younger activists, particularly those working via social media, have forwarded the alternative acronym MOGII, which stands for marginalized orientations, gender identities, and intersex. The primary benefit of the MOGII acronym is that it encompasses the diverse identities that comprise the community in only five letters. But aside from its compact nature, there are several problems with this variation. First, if we are talking about people who are oppressed on the basis of gender identity, would that not also include heterosexaul, cisgender (non-trans) women? Who, exactly, counts as having a marginalized gender identity? MOGII is intended to refer to the LGBTQ community; however, cis heterosexual women are also marginalized and oppressed on the basis of their gender identities.
Second, members of the community have distinct histories, life experiences, and issues depending upon which identity they occupy. The MOGII acronym, then, adds an unnecessary layer of complexity. In order to accurately talk about the specific needs and issues faced by particular members of the community, we need to revert back to the identities directly represented by the LGBT acronym and its variations. Put differently, not all people who are marginalized because of their sexual orientation or gender identity are marginalized in the same way, nor do they have the same history, or face the same problems. Additionally, not all people who have been identified as intersex may identify as such, and some intersex people may not even see themselves as members of the community.
Finally, the MOGII acronym positions the identities of members of the community solely in terms of marginality. Are these identities only about living a marginalized existence, or can they also be thought of as pleasurable, liberating, or transgressive? 1970's lesbian feminist separatists, for example, saw lesbianism as a politically revolutionary identity that should be cultivated and encouraged because it had the potential to radically transform society by dismantling both heterosexuality and patriarchy. Since the early-twentieth century, the community has also developed a unique culture that goes beyond experiences of marginalization. To define LGBTQ people primarily in terms of marginality invokes the sentiments of some early homosexual activists who sought to secure rights on the basis of homosexuals comprising a “pitiable” class because they could not help their so-called “unnatural” desires.
Some may disagree, but LGBTQ seems to be the best option to accurately and succinctly represent the community. This version of the acronym includes the letters/identities we are most familiar with, with the addition of “Q” which, as stated previously, can refer to persons who are questioning, queer as a reclaimed identity, or an umbrella term that encompasses everyone who in some way defies gender and sexuality norms. This latter meaning of queer is inclusive of everyone represented by the IP2SAA etc. of the longer acronym. Though it might be easier to simply say “the queer community,” the word “queer,” for some, is polarizing and remains offensive or derogatory.
Yet another version of the acronym is LGBTQ+, in which the plus sign functions as a shorthand to represent other identities within the community without listing every letter. The plus sign, however, is redundant. If we take queer to mean those outside of gender and sexuality norms, then “Q” covers the “+.” The LGBTQ version of the acronym is short, inclusive, and does not obscure the specific identities and histories of the members of the community most historically oppressed.
There is not now, nor has there ever been, a consensus on approaches to activism within the LGBTQ community, including the politics of language. LGBTQ people are as diverse and varied as any other group. What unites us is a shared experience of being gender and sexual minorities, though the particularities of that experience differ from person to person. The point here is not to say that some versions of the acronym are “wrong” while others are “right.” Rather, it is to encourage critical thinking around language as a vehicle of social change, and to recognize that people do not have to agree on everything in order to work together as a community. Language ideally brings us together, not divides us. We should not exclude others for using terminology we may not agree with or prefer, or for taking a different approach. We should, however, think critically about the words we are using and if they are actually serving their intended purpose, or creating additional problems.
While young activists, in particular, may want to distinguish their social justice work through language, I would encourage them to consider if such innovations are actually advancing the conversation, or if they are creating change simply for change’s sake. Because we live in a relatively ahistorical society where our media and social institutions do not actively encourage us to place current events in historical context, it is easy to take what historians refer to as a “presentist” point of view. Presentism, as defined in the Oxford English Dictionary, is the “uncritical adherence to present-day attitudes, especially the tendency to interpret past events in terms of modern values and concepts.” Historian Lynn Hunt argues that presentism comes from a place of “temporal superiority,” or, the false assumption that the present is inherently better, or more enlightened, and encourages us to instead “[maintain] a fruitful tension between present concerns and respect for the past.” “Both are essential ingredients in good history,” Hunt says.
If we do not know our history, then it is easy to think we are doing something new and innovative when we are actually engaging in age-old debates. In other words, just because a particular term is “new” or “different” does not automatically mean it is better, more accurate, or more effective. The MOGII acronym, for example, while attempting to address issues of inclusivity, obscures the specific histories of the LGBTQ community, and potentially creates more problems than it solves.
My preferred acronym is LGBTQ, but if you favor a different variation, I am still happy to work with you and call you a member of my community. I may, however, seek to engage with you in dialogue about your choice of language. Issues of language are not silly or incidental. The act of naming or labeling oneself can serve as a powerful and validating experience. Language gives visibility and can help to shift social perspectives on historically stigmatized groups. Language does not merely describe our reality, but can actively create it for the better. And language can both enhance and impede social justice efforts. Therefore, we must continue the conversation. We must also recognize that because the LGBTQ community is oppressed, people will experience oppression no matter what we call ourselves. Language alone cannot remedy social inequality. First and foremost, we should focus on ending oppression in all its myriad forms.
The LGBTQ acronym is not just a collection of letters that represent identities; rather, these letters are history embodied. They tell the story of the modern American Gay Civil Rights Movement, reminding us that our victories have been a long time coming, and have not been easily won. And there is still much work to do. As we roll up our sleeves and prepare for the battles ahead, let’s not throw away or discount our history — let’s use it to better inform our actions in the present. Let’s not be complacent about the extent to which others struggled and fought so that we could have the right to exist. If we do away with the letters that comprise the acronym, then we do away with our story — our history — as well. As the writer and activist James Baldwin reminds us:
“History is not the past, it is the present. We carry our history with us.”
We must move onward while always retaining a sense of where we’ve been, no matter how heavy the weight.
