Queer Joy Isn’t a Phase — It’s the Whole Damn Point
Queer Joy Is Forever (Unlike My Angsty Side Bangs)
Before we get into it, I’d like to formally apologize to everyone who knew me during the 2007 “bangs and eyeliner” era. I was, in fact, going through something. But beneath the over-tweezed brows and the “I’m totally straight, I just REALLY like Tegan and Sara” defense mechanism… something wonderful was percolating. Queer joy. She was there. She just hadn't taken the wheel yet.
And here’s the thing: while the side bangs have (mercifully) been retired, that queer joy? She’s permanent. She’s defiant. She’s in every awkward first date, every closet door we kicked open, and every glittery dance floor we claimed as our own. She’s not a phase — she’s the point.
The Evolution of a Baby Gay
If you’re anything like me, your queer awakening didn’t happen all at once. It was more of a chaotic montage: watching Xena: Warrior Princess with your parents, suspiciously invested in Avril Lavigne’s “Complicated” video, and getting way too emotional over a same-sex friendship in a teen drama. (Looking at you, Buffy and Faith.)
Then came the denial phase. “I’m just an ally.” “It’s a vibe, not an identity.” “I make out with girls for attention — totally different.” And then — boom — the realization hits like a disco ball to the face. You’re queer. You’ve always been queer. And suddenly everything — from your wardrobe to your friendships to your taste in music — makes sense.
Fashion Mistakes Are a Rite of Passage
Let’s talk about the universal language of queer youth: unfortunate style choices. I wore suspenders with no actual pants logic. I owned seven pairs of Converse, all the same color. One summer, I thought fedoras were a personality. We all have our crosses to bear.
But fashion isn’t frivolous — not for us. For queer folks, style is armor. It’s experimentation. It’s the first time you say to the world, “I’m not like the others” without actually saying it. Yes, you might look back and cringe, but that rainbow belt you wore every day in high school? That was your first Pride flag.
“Queer fashion is a journey. Mine began with eyeliner and ended with owning 3 jumpsuits and zero apologies.”
Joy Isn’t a Phase — But Shame Was
For many of us, our earliest experiences of queerness weren’t joyful. They were secretive. Confusing. Sometimes painful. We learned to edit ourselves — to be “normal,” to pass, to keep it down. Joy wasn’t allowed until it was earned. Until we were safe. Until we were sure.
But the beautiful, messy, glitter-covered truth is: joy is revolutionary. It is what shame tried to steal. Every moment of queer happiness is a raised middle finger to every person, policy, or religion that tried to tell us we were wrong for existing.
Joy is the opposite of “just a phase.” It’s what remains when the fear is gone.
Coming Out Wasn’t a Firework — It Was a Slow Burn
Pop culture loves a dramatic “coming out” scene — a teary-eyed confession, a gasp, maybe a hug, maybe a slamming door. But real life? Coming out is rarely a one-time event. It’s a lifelong process. New job? Coming out. New roommate? Coming out. Grandma gets a new hearing aid? Coming out again, but louder this time.
And sometimes, even after we’re “out,” it takes a while to truly be out. Loud. Joyful. Free. There’s a difference between saying you’re queer and living like you are — and that leap is the one worth celebrating.
The Myth of Linear Progress
Let’s kill the idea that queerness is a straight line (ha). You do not have to graduate from bisexual confusion to lesbian certainty to queer elder in a power blazer. Some people loop. Some people zigzag. Some of us date a man in our 30s and get ghosted after sending him our Spotify Wrapped. We all have our journey.
The important thing? You’re not failing Pride just because you’re not where you thought you’d be. Joy doesn’t require perfection — it just requires truth. And maybe a good playlist.
The Beauty of Chosen Family
If queer joy has a home, it’s in the concept of chosen family. That friend who helped you pick out your first binder. The roommate who cried with you after you told your parents. The group chat that sends you memes and memes only — until someone’s having a breakdown, and then it becomes a therapy hotline with gifs.
These people are not “replacements” for family. They are family. Period. And queer joy is always amplified when shared with those who see you — no filter, no compromise, no needing to explain your pronouns for the fifth time.
Joy Is Also Political (Sorry, But It Is)
You might think glitter and dance floors and brunch mimosas are harmless. But to exist joyfully as a queer person in a world that constantly tries to legislate your identity out of existence? That’s resistance. That’s power. That’s the kind of joy that breaks systems.
You don’t have to be an activist to be revolutionary. Sometimes the most radical act is living your softest, happiest, gayest life. That’s not a phase. That’s a rebellion with jazz hands.
So Where Does That Leave Us?
- Still experimenting with fashion (but with better lighting).
- Still coming out — in new ways, to new people.
- Still cringing at old selfies — and blessing the younger version of ourselves who didn’t know how good life was going to get.
- Still choosing joy, even when it’s hard.
Queer joy isn’t fleeting. It’s not a mistake. It’s the prize we fought for — and continue to protect.
So, to my baby gay self: You were a lot. You didn’t always know what you were doing. But you were trying. And now look at you — fully evolved, still messy, occasionally crying at animated movies, and blissfully queer.
Queer joy isn’t a destination or a reward for surviving. It’s the glitter in the cracks. The dance party in the disaster. The love we find, the love we choose, and the love we finally give ourselves. It’s not a phase — it’s who we are when the fear is gone. And honey, it looks good on you.