Tag Archives: Queer Spaces

Are You Ableist Without Realizing It?

Queer spaces are supposed to be safe spaces. Sadly, more often than not, queer spaces exclude certain groups of people, such as people of color or nonbinary people.

One group that is not just overlooked, but also made invisible, is disabled queer people.

If you asked most queer people if they discriminate, they would probably say, “Of course not! I welcome all people all the time.”

…But then no disabled people show up at their events.

It’s not because disabled queer people don’t exist – they definitely do – but it’s because these spaces, and the people in them, do not welcome them.

Many queer spaces just aren’t accessible.

Your building has an elevator for people in a wheelchair. Great! But that’s just the beginning. Making a space truly accessible for all people requires a lot of work, so roll up your flannel sleeves.

Are the bathrooms handicap accessible? Are signs written in braille? Does anyone at the meeting know American Sign Language? Are there several options for foods – not just vegetarian, but also gluten-free for people with Celiac disease, or sugar-free for people with diabetes?

The extra effort goes a long way. It makes the difference between someone feeling welcome and someone being unable to participate.

Many able-bodied people are ableist without knowing it.

If you’re queer, you probably bristle when you hear a homophobic or biphobic comment, even if the comment wasn’t meant to be offensive. It’s the same way with ableism: you might be offending someone or promoting ableist viewpoints without realizing it.

Watch your language to make sure you’re not using slurs, such as “retarded” or “crippled” (and even words like “dumb,” “lame” or “stupid” have their roots in ableism). And avoid making light of mental illness, such as saying that you are “so OCD” if you don’t actually have Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder, or saying that the weather is schizophrenic just because it changes a lot.

At the same time, be mindful of microaggressions. Don’t make a disabled person feel like they’re missing out or imply that you pity them. Don’t speak over them or for them. Don’t ask intrusive questions. And don’t assume what they can and cannot do.

Many able-bodied people fetishize disabled people – or write them off completely.

When you think about hot queer women, you probably think Samira Wiley, Ruby Rose, Kristen Stewart or Kate McKinnon. You probably think about the hot girl who sits behind you in Swahili class or the really attractive barista at your favorite bar. Chances are, you picture someone able-bodied.

Disabled queer writer Nik Moreno says, “Being a wheelchair user, I tend to stick out a lot. Folks rarely find me romantically desirable, usually because they see the chair before me… We’re either seen as disgusting or not attractive, and people try to pass it off as a preference.”

What’s the solution? Don’t try to date someone just because they’re disabled, because that fetishizes their disability. But don’t write someone off just because they have a disability. Realize that your “preferences” just mask your bigotry.

For more about the intersection of queerness and disability, check out this three part series.

Why Don’t Queer People Of Color Feel Safe In Most Queer Spaces?

In an ideal world, queer spaces would be all-inclusive.

In an ideal world, queer spaces would welcome people of all colors, nationalities, physical abilities, socioeconomic statuses and gender identities.

Unfortunately, that’s rarely true. Many queer spaces center to cisgender, white gay men, especially as lesbian bars close at an alarming rate.

Cicely Belle-Blain, a queer black artist from Vancouver, recently wrote about her experiences as a queer person of color in a liberal city. She raised an excellent point: Many queer spaces appropriate other cultures but don’t actually engage with the social and political struggles of that culture.

As the saying goes, everybody wants to “be” black, but nobody wants to be black.

At gay bars, blackness is exotic and cool. Non-black queer people want the aesthetic – the music, the dancing, the slang, the street cred – but they don’t want to critically engage with Black Lives Matter, for example. When the music stops, non-black people stop thinking about color.

Belle-Blain says:

For white people, these parties are not only fun, but also a chance to momentarily experience the coolness of being black without any of the systemic oppression that we face every other day of the year. For people of colour and especially black queer folks, these experiences are violent, harmful and erasing.”

This extends to drag shows as well. Very rarely do drag queens and their audience acknowledge the fact that drag culture started with low-income black and Latinx people.

Even when they’re not consciously appropriating cultures, many gay bars destroy communities of color by participating in gentrification. In Vancouver, white organizers open bars in Chinatown because the housing is so cheap – over time, of course, their presence will push out the current residents.

In New York City, gay bars populate the very-gentrified area of Williamsburg. Now that Williamsburg has been gentrified and housing is expensive, these bars and parties are moving outward to swallow other neighborhoods. For example, Bushwick, once a heavily Latinx area, is now awash with mostly-white gay bars and queer spaces.

So what’s the solution? Don’t get me wrong: Having more gay-friendly spaces, like bars and parties, is important. But all queer should respect the communities and cultures they come in contact with; we should all acknowledge that, as Cicely Belle-Blain says, “queerness doesn’t negate racism or anti-blackness.”

Read an in-depth analysis of racism and the queer community here.