Being LGBT Without The “Community”

Despite proudly proclaiming how inclusive and accepting they are, the LGBT “community” doesn’t tolerate individualism.

“You have internalized homophobia.” 
“You’re supporting our oppressor.”
“The LGBT community doesn’t claim you.”

These are all things that have been said to me by LGBT “community” members after I had the audacity to express opinions that only slightly deviated from their orthodoxy. These responses are usually effective at controlling their target’s speech. Community members comply by shutting down, back-tracking, and apologizing after being confronted with the implied threat of exile. But these phrases never worked on me. Unfortunately for these dogmatists, I never considered myself a member of their “community”—or any community that bullies its members into conformity—in the first place.

How can you be kicked out of a club you never joined?

Since I was a teenager, being referred to as a member of a “community” didn’t sit well with me. It told me that I wasn’t being seen as an individual, and my thoughts, personality, and political beliefs were being assumed based on stereotypes. 

With that said, I did see the purpose of LGBT people coming together as a group to fight for our rights. I graduated high school in 2013, two years before the nationwide legalization of gay marriage. At that time, LGBT activists fought for legal equality and advocated for victims of discrimination and violence. I was always told that the goal of the LGBT movement was to be seen and treated as equals.

But today, those LGBT activists of the recent past have been replaced by Queer™ activists who police people’s speech, seek special rather than equal treatment, and coddle other LGBT people. Equality is no longer the goal. In fact, it seems as if they want to be oppressed; they’ve built their entire identity on top of a sense of perpetual victimhood. Rather than wanting acceptance from straight people, they now remind you that straight people are “the enemy.” Instead of enjoying life, they keep finding new things to complain about, like not being referred to by their invented neo-pronouns of choice.

As an androgynous man who doesn’t adhere to regressive gender stereotypes, I’ve had issues accepting the normalization of terms like “non-binary” and “gender-fluid.” I saw an alarming number of women say they weren’t women because they didn’t enjoy wearing makeup and men say they weren’t men because they weren’t stereotypically masculine. Confused by “progressive” people expressing such blatant sexism, I questioned their reasons for labeling themselves this way:

“When you say you are not a woman because you aren’t stereotypically feminine, aren’t you just reinforcing the sexist belief that women must always be feminine? Isn’t all of this reinforcing restrictive gender stereotypes rather than eliminating them? Doesn’t the very idea of being ‘non-binary’ completely contradict the argument that men and women can dress, think, and act however they want?” 

I never received coherent answers to these questions. Instead, the person I was asking talked in circles before eventually ending the conversation by saying something like “why do you care? That’s just how I choose to identify.” Their use of the word “choose” seemed to accidentally prove my theory that these were labels put on by choice rather than an immutable characteristic or state of being.  

When I saw trans activists say “puberty blockers are completely safe and reversible,” I listed studies that seemed to clearly prove otherwise. Not locked in my perspective, I asked them what their thoughts on those studies were. Their response, without fail, was to avoid engaging with the studies entirely and instead call me a “pick-me,” “transphobic,” or “bigoted.”

I never said anything hateful toward anyone. I made it a point to word my questions in the least confrontational way possible. I had no interest in starting arguments or hurting feelings. Yet I was swiftly blocked on social media by people I had been friends with for over 15 years. An invitation to a friend’s baby shower was rescinded because they said a transgender person would also be attending, and I might make them feel unsafe. People who had once referred to me as a member of their “chosen family” suddenly stopped speaking to me.

A true community is a group of individuals united in a shared interest, mindset, or goal. While there is a common link that unites everyone, community members must feel comfortable being themselves and sharing their honest thoughts. This diversity is beneficial. Different ways of thinking provide new ideas that help the community solve problems and achieve their goals.

The unfortunate truth is that today’s LGBT “community” isn’t really a community at all. It’s more similar to a political party, or even a cult. 

Despite proudly proclaiming how inclusive and accepting they are, the LGBT “community” doesn’t tolerate individualism.

While there are many things I agree with the LGBT community about, I don’t need a community to tell me what my opinions should be, and I certainly don’t need an angry mob chanting in unison to feel confident in my perspective. I come to conclusions after thoughtful introspection and thorough research. I share my thoughts, not a collective’s.

When I scroll through social media, I find myself bombarded with posts from LGBT pages telling me conservatives want me dead, straight people hate me, and if I agree with Republicans on any topic I'm committing an act of violence against my own people. Yet when I step outside into the real world, I find myself getting along with people of all sexualities and from all across the political spectrum. There is an obvious difference between the fear-mongering version of reality LGBT people describe online and actual reality.

When, in the “community’s” mind, am I allowed to stop being miserable?

For many, the LGBT “community” is like a cozy, gay security blanket—say the right things, and we’ll always be by your side. Although I understand why that security is appealing, I prefer to maintain my integrity.

I’ve found freedom living life as a black sheep, and I encourage others to put their integrity first, even if it means walking away from a so-called community that demands otherwise.