For as long as I can remember, there’s been this weird phenomenon that I never wanted to speak out about. After all, I’m queer; I know what it feels like to be hypersexualized because of your sexuality, and to be demonized as a result. The last thing I’d ever want to do is hurt a marginalized group. But, gay guys, we really, really need to talk about your ability to be just as mansplaining, just as sexist, and just as creepy as straight guys.
Even though cishet dudes for sure carry the bulk of the sexist bullshit in the world, I can’t count on two hands how many times a cis gay dude has shitted on me because of my gender. I can’t count how many times a gay guy has grinded against me in a bar, or grabbed my body, or said a comment about how I looked that would have pissed me off if it were a straight guy, but that I accepted because it was a gay guy. After all, if they aren’t even attracted to women, how could I be offended? What would I be offended by?
But it’s important, and absolutely essential, to remember that sexual harassment isn’t about lust, or about attraction: it’s about power. And by grabbing me and laying claim to my body, these gay men were gaining power. They were stealing mine for their own. And, in doing that, they were hurting a queer woman, and clearly not being feminist or worthy of my allyship as a fellow member of the LGBT community. Yes, we have to work together, but what does that mean when it leaves queer women and femmes hurt?
At the end of the day, I came to realize that suffering at the hands of gay men in silence wasn’t benefiting anyone. Because people who sexually harass and sexually assault others and otherwise perpetuate sexual violence don’t deserve protection. I have just as much right to call out sexist gay men as I do sexist straight men. I have just as much right to tell these men to GTFO of queer spaces when they bring toxic masculinity to the table. And I have just as much right to tell these men they need to step up to the plate or just leave me, and other women and femmes, the hell alone.
We’re a community. But that doesn’t mean one person is more valuable or worthy of more protection than others. It’s not about causing “division,” the long-held argument by those who would rather have people within a community hurting than speaking out. It’s about all of us having equal power, and finding justice in spaces that are supposed to be safe.
