Why do we often talk about being "normal" when people are so different from one another? Why do we try to fit into specific groups when life is so messy and complicated?
And why do we, as a society, often get it wrong when we try to understand people who don't fit the so-called "normal" way of being?
In his New York Times article, "As a Gay Man, I’ll Never Be Normal," Richard Morgan vehemently disavows the compulsion for normalization within the LGBTQ+ community. That it simply promotes internalized homophobia.
His words echo through the chambers of a society grappling with understanding identities that diverge from the traditional heterosexual mold.
Morgan writes, "Normalize men in dresses. Normalize trans athletes. Normalize throuples. Normalize fetishes. Here a norm, there a norm, everywhere a norm-norm. Every norm everywhere all at once. But as a gay man, I celebrate an inconvenient truth of Pride Month: We’ll never be normal."
Let's unpack this sentiment by stepping into the shoes of Joel, a gay man living in Brooklyn. Joel is as complicated and multi-faceted as any individual you'd meet. His flamboyant wardrobe, a beacon of his identity, his quick wit and biting humor, are as integral to him as his fondness for baseball or his detest for pickles. His reality as a gay man is one part of the complex mosaic that forms his persona.
What are we saying when we seek to 'normalize' Joel? Are we striving to make him fit into a version of normality that society has defined, or are we trying to expand the scope of 'normal' to include his experience?
"I Don't Want To Be A Screaming Queen!"
Morgan pulls in Gallup data, noting a startling discrepancy between perception and reality. "The percentage of Americans who identify as L.G.B.T.Q. or “something other than heterosexual” doubled from 2012 to 2022, soaring to a little more than 7 percent... However, ask everyday Americans to guess at just the gay and lesbian population, and Gallup shows they consistently overestimate. In 2019, it was 23.6 percent — almost a quarter."
In conversation with Marc, a gay man living in Miami, we get a response to this data: "People think we're everywhere, but in reality, we're a fraction of the population. I guess we make more noise than our numbers suggest."
This overestimation, Morgan implies, fuels fears, misunderstandings, and legislative panic. The question is: Are we inflating the representation to make a point, or are these inflated numbers a reflection of society's anxieties?
Morgan adds another layer to the argument with the perspective of the entertainment industry, as he highlights GLAAD's study finding 11.9% of roles on prime-time television to be LGBTQ+. He refers to this overrepresentation as a kind of reverse closet, where society is asked to don a queer costume.
Morgan's argument pivots around the idea that the struggle for acceptance and normalization is often misdirected. He writes, "Queer America should be unapologetic, of course, and that means an unflinching embrace of facts, including that we are a minuscule group of mostly bisexual people. It’s absolutely worthwhile to fight for the last among equals, but the solution to being extraordinary cannot be to become extra ordinary."
It's the voice of the minority, the voice that is rarely heard, that Morgan implores us to pay attention to. Sam, an artist living in San Francisco and identifying as bisexual, echoes Morgan's sentiment, "We're a smaller group, but we have a profound story to tell. Our strength lies in our difference, not in how well we blend in."
One of the article's most evocative sections is Morgan's exploration of his personal journey from seeking comfort to celebrating his queerness. He declares that "Queerness was such a battle that all I wanted was peace. Every hill made me crave flatness. Every insult made me crave quiet. Every shove made me crave stillness."
It's an experience shared by Leo, a high school teacher living in Austin. Leo's journey mirrors that of many LGBTQ+ individuals - he spent his teen years praying for normality, for the comfort of fitting in.
But as he grew older, he discovered that his yearning for normality was less about being 'normal' and more about the desire for comfort. He wanted to escape the painful reminders of his 'difference', he yearned for the peace that he believed came with being 'normal'.
But here lies the conundrum. Morgan and many others have realized that seeking normality often leads to a loss of authenticity. The mainstream may crave authenticity in certain domains, yet it often demands a homogenization of queerness. "Consigning someone to a caged and cataloged existence isn’t an act of tolerance; it’s an act of taxidermy," Morgan points out.
In his final analysis, Morgan challenges the practice of molding the LGBTQ+ community into compliance with straight comforts, expectations, and traditions. "The riddle of Pride is this: Why fold an L.G.B.T.Q. community so alive with agency, candor, empathy, kink and progressivism into compliance and deference to straight comforts, straight expectations and straight traditions? For what? How does that serve queer authenticity?"
Reflecting on this, David, a trans man in Chicago, states, "Our authenticity isn't in mirroring what's been established. It's about expressing our unique experiences, pushing boundaries, and refusing to comply just for the sake of comfort."
Morgan concludes by challenging the notion of 'normal'. As he states, "Being normal is a lie people tell themselves to cover up the reality that they are merely common."
His resistance to fitting in, to being 'normal', doesn't come from a place of rebellion but from an understanding that everyone, regardless of sexual identity, is anything but common. In essence, the very concept of normalcy is under scrutiny here.
Ultimately, this article poses an essential question: Is the fight for acceptance about the right to be 'normal', or is it about the freedom to exist outside of conventional norms, to redefine what it means to be human in a diverse and complex world?
What Morgan underscores throughout his piece is the transformative potential of queerness. "Being an outlier, even an outcast," he says, "has brought so much joy and insight."
This sentiment is echoed by Eddie, a gay man and art curator in Los Angeles. Eddie explains, "When I embraced my queerness, I felt a sort of liberation. It allowed me to see and experience the world differently, and to truly be myself. The joy and insight come from living outside the 'norm' and finding my own unique place in the world."
Indeed, this is a profound aspect of queerness that often goes unrecognized. Morgan argues that the real power of queerness is not in its capacity to assimilate into the mainstream, but rather in its capacity to redefine and challenge what is considered mainstream. As he succinctly puts it, "Normalization is, frankly, anti-queer."
A recurring theme in the article is the discrepancy between the perception and reality of LGBTQ+ representation. Morgan cites that while queer Americans account for just roughly 3 percent of the population, many people vastly overestimate this percentage.
This, he argues, is problematic in multiple ways. On one hand, it leads to misguided assumptions about queer people being everywhere. On the other hand, it feeds into the paranoia of bigots and conservatives.
Tina, a pansexual woman in Seattle, expressed her frustration with this issue. "People seem to think we're everywhere. They have this skewed perception that being queer is somehow trendy or fashionable. It trivializes the struggles we face every day," Tina told us.
Morgan's argument isn't just about numbers and statistics. It's about questioning what it truly means to be queer. For instance, he writes about not fitting into the stereotypical queer mold - he doesn't watch "RuPaul’s Drag Race", he's never been to Fire Island, and his skincare routine is simply soap.
Similarly, Jack, a non-binary individual from New York, shares, "People always try to fit me into a box. They expect me to behave or look a certain way because I'm non-binary. But my identity isn't defined by stereotypes. It's defined by who I am as a person."
In a punchy conclusion, Morgan calls for the queer community to push back. He refuses to soften his message for the sake of those who find it uncomfortable. "I’m tired of pulling punches with 'love is love' for folks who recoil at the parity that fellatio is fellatio," he states. He's done with playing nice, done with assimilation, and done with normal.
Echoing Morgan's sentiment, Carlos, a gay activist in Miami, says, "We need to stop trying to be palatable for the majority. Our identity isn't about fitting in or being acceptable. It's about being authentically ourselves."
The bottom line in Richard Morgan's exploration of queerness, normalization, and the realities of the LGBTQ+ community is that the true power of the queer community lies in its ability to challenge norms, push boundaries, and redefine what it means to be authentically human.
The battle for acceptance isn't about blending in, but about ensuring the right to exist outside of the norms, in all its diverse, vibrant, and unpredictable glory. As Morgan puts it, "I give zero flux about being popular. Or normal. Or flat. Or quiet. Or still. Or forgettable."