Queer Love and Affection
I’ve taken to considering the whole month of February about love. It has nothing to do with the dark origins of Valentine’s Day or maybe it does. Out of brutality, out of oppression, love keeps us afloat.
Do you remember the first time you held hands with a lover walking through a public park or kissed one another outside a café before parting ways? For those of us who occupy relationships that have been marginalized and criminalized — the ability to show love and affection to our significant others, to our romantic chums, to our crushes, both privately and publicly is no small thing. Perhaps some of you, have yet to dare to hold eye contact too long in public with the same person whose skin you slip against in the dark.
Our activism is not only marches, protests, and petitions. It’s the bravery of our love because love is stronger than hate. It’s the hands we hold in public. It’s the lips we kiss in doorways. It’s the notes we dare to pass to a person we yearn for, a person who might call us out, or respond with the mirrored heat of our reflection.
Us queers are more than our marginalized identities. We are the pulse of our love, laying our ease on the line for love. The rapid beating of our attractions surpassing courtesy, customs, laws, and expectations.
Out of love we sit cross legged linking arms in the middle of the street. We skim community bail bonds off our paychecks. We strengthen our triceps, signs held above our heads.
Out of love we foster to adopt and face charities in court that say we can’t. We advocate for our children whose neurological, racial, ethnic, and gender identities may be different from our own. We navigate court, therapist, and parent visits.
Out of love we learn consent is an ongoing engagement. We learn how to navigate our lovers’ traumas and how from healing desire blooms. We learn love is another word for grow.
Sometimes our love is dangerous. Our love meets in alleys, bushes, parked cars, and bars. Our love is unstoppable. Our love gets on top of a pool table at the Lexington. Our love wears pasties. Our love wears heels. Our love wears work boots and flannel and a bear’s beard. Turbans, hijabs, yamakas, hoodies. Our love carries a pocket knife because of those who dared to show their love before us.
Our desire is strong enough to risk being kicked out, rejected, shamed. We are not the only ones. Together our unstoppable love will create a safer place for those to love after us.
