dearyoungqueer - Tumblr blog

[dearyoungqueer]

DYQ 2- electric boogaloo

Hey y'all. Me again. Hopefully not too much rambling for you tonight.

The first time I convinced my dad to let me cut my hair short was in eighth grade. It was an awkward, chin-length bob that didn't suit me at all. But I was so happy with it, and I just kept going shorter and shorter over the years until I ended up with something just shy of a buzzcut. There was something really freeing about it, finally having the hair I desired. I kept it that length all through high school, to the joy of every straight boy in school who told me I looked like a boy. I'd been hearing that since before I ever even touched the length of my hair, so I don't know why they thought it was new information I just had to know.

The first time I grew my hair out was during the COVID pandemic. I was class of 2020 you see, so I had a looottt of time away from any classmates (or hair salons). I cut my hair myself a few times until it stuck a little past my chin, where it remained for my pseudo-graduation in 2021. Only after did I begin letting it grow out, until my hair was finally long enough to be pulled back in the summer. Right when I started competing in pageants, I had long, blonde hair that fit in with every other girl on the stage. In the stagnant period in between competitions, I went through every single color I could think of, until I cut all my hair off in a tearful breakdown earlier this year. I still don't know if they were happy tears or not.

I don't know what hair means to me. I know that when I cut it there's a sense of mourning, but there's also something about it that makes me feel so light inside. I think with pageants especially, it's so hard to accept that something in me really wants that short hair back. I want to go back to the high school boy that everyone thought I was- at least, I think I do. Another part of me, the kid that never had long hair, looks at old pictures of my long hair and wants to grow it out so desperately. Every color, every cut, it all feels like a different person to me. Maybe that's what hair is to me: a way to be somebody else.

See you next color,

Dear Young Queer

[dearyoungqueer]

DYQ - who am i? who knows! not me!

I'll be honest with you, I don't know if I'm a young queer. I would hope so, I'm not even out of college yet.

I know there's a million faceless people on the internet, so I figured it'd be nice to introduce to me to make this a little less parasocial (more parasocial? who knows!). To address the elephant in my identity, I'm a pageant girl-- pageant person? No, I refuse to be called a PP. I'm also pansexual, and nonbinary, so I really can't be called a pageant person because that opens the chance to be called a PPP and I don't think I could live with that.

Now, you're probably asking, what makes a young queer person join pageants, the epitome of straight women? Well, it's simple. I love Toddlers and Tiaras.

Kidding. Honestly, the pageants I compete in offer scholarship money as the award and I couldn't pass that up. It almost offsets the hundreds of dollars spent on dresses I'll never wear again!

The competitive part helps me feel good at something. I don't know about you guys, but growing up queer led me to a lot of insecurity issues, and I always felt like I had to try extra hard to keep up with everyone else in terms of societal value. If I doll myself up and squeeze into a dress and get on a stage and speak about being queer with a smile on my face and bleach blonde hair, people will like me in some capacity, they have to. Old ladies love to tell me I'm an "inspiration" for existing, for singing a song about loving girls in front of judges who couldn't care less. It sure doesn't feel inspiring, it actually makes me feel like a traitor. I'm scared that straight people find me queer enough to tolerate and queer people see me as borderline straight.

I'm sure everyone feels that way. The imposter syndrome of growing up queer is otherworldly, especially when you participate in overly feminine or masculine events. I love the girls I do pageants with. Do they feel the same? How many of them see me as a watered-down, easy to handle version of the LBGTQ community? How many of them vote for politicians who don't even want me to exist? Do young queer people look at me in disgust for being in pageants, even if I base my platform on queer youth? Do I even want to know?

It sounds stupid. It all does, when I write it down. But the one promise I made myself when I sat down and spent thirty seconds picking out pretty colors for my blog, was that I wouldn't delete any of my thoughts. I came here to be honest, and queer and a pageant person. I can't separate the two. I don't know that I want to.

I hope you're here. I hope you stuck it out to this line.

Maybe even this one? No, too far.

I'll be here.

Yours 'till next time,

Dear Young Queer