My Memoir
Inspired by Amira Jarmakan
I used to be invisible. Not because of a sort of active ignorance, but a passive one. I existed in the American subconscious but only there. I looked for myself in television shows and books, but I was nowhere to be found. I thought books and movies were supposed to transport you to different worlds; America never told me that those fictional worlds were wearing “straight” jackets, restrained by unspoken guidelines. Rule Number One: We do not talk about queer people. Rule Number Two: We most definitely do not talk about queer people of color. Rule Number Three: We do not talk about rules one, two, or three because representation in a fictional world would acknowledge the social existence of queer people of color; the lack thereof: a symbolic annihilation, much more convenient and much more deadly (Gerbner and Gross, 1976). Recently, I thought I became visible. I saw the media frenzy about the new progressive queer shows like Will and Grace. It was a new era for queerness in the public eye, a revolution of sorts. However, this hypervisibility was just as exclusive. With all the media buzz around representation for the gay community, all the people I saw were white men. The media content continued to lack important discussion about gay intimacy and love between people of color. In spite of this shortcoming, the media touted that the issue of LGBTQ discrimination had been solved due to these shows and the new levels of “understanding” that they fostered. The hypervisibility of this shallow “panacea” to LGBTQ discrimination shows the continued failure to address the intersectionality between race and sexual orientation. As a result, LGBTQ people of color continue to remain voiceless while the rest of the world believes that all is well.
I am still here though. Hear me now.
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