by Chloe Kiparsky
On the Fourth of July, 2021, my family and I walked downtown to watch the parade. On the way, some friends waved me down and asked if I would like to ride on the pride float with them. Naturally, I said yes.
I had never been a part of any pride-related thing before, and it was almost a spiritual experience to do so. Someone asked whether I’d like to wave the pride flag around, and when I held it, it felt exhilarating. I’d held American flags before, but this strip of rainbow fabric made me understand. It made me understand why people feel such a connection to our country and its symbol.
Six months later, on Yule Day, I and a couple of other queer kids were invited to be on a pride float again. This time, it felt yucky. I ended up saying no because I realized something quite powerful for me.
I realized that I am done with being asked to be queer for performance. This is more than just pressure to look and act a certain way (that’s another issue entirely); this is people saying that you’re not queer enough unless you are in the public eye about it, all the time.
After the Fourth of July, I expected that feeling of a piece of my soul coming to light to happen all the time. But just because I had a transcendent experience once doesn’t mean I need to have the same thing happen every time.
As a queer high schooler living in a small town such as Ouray Colorado, it can be hard to come out. Once people know, though, it can be hard to differentiate between people being kind and people taking advantage of you.
I admit it’s ironic because the more talked about issue is people who complain about us making it our whole identity or flaunting our queerness too much. I get it. I understand how it can frustrate people that we sometimes express this very important piece of our identity loudly and proudly, but part of that is making up for the years of suppression and wishing identities away.
Don’t get me wrong, it’s wonderful that queer people are finally getting that long-sought-after recognition, but maybe that desire leads us astray sometimes. Maybe sometimes we inadvertently put an important part of ourselves in someone else’s hands. Example: I don’t hide my identity per se, but I sure am not in a rush to let everyone know.
Because of the growing support for the LGBTQ+ community, it feels very weird to talk about it in this way, but I’ve felt it often. People expect me to perform my identity constantly, and sometimes I don’t want to.
How can a high schooler have a public presence when they don’t even know themself yet? One can connect with the pride flag, but not know yet where they belong. It’s quite common for people - young and old - to be lost. The expectation for us to be able to name and define where we fit is extremely unrealistic.
My feelings - about everything - change every moment, so it isn’t right to expect me to feel the same about my identity every day. Next time somebody asks me to perform my identity, they should expect and accept any answer I might give.