#don't worry i'll be back to talking about billy zabka's dick in a minute

[an-sceal]

That last thing I reblogged- I don't know the author or the book. But I will tell you this. A couple years ago, a book I co-wrote (with my wife) became a finalist for a LGBTQ-specific literary award. We were super excited to get the nod (even attended the award ceremony), especially for the particular book that earned it, which was a story about characters we had been playing with for over 20 years.

Timeline:

-We got the call from the awards committee telling us we finaled -We got an email from our publisher congratulating us -Several readers and other authors took to twitter to talk about how horrible it was that a bunch of "straight women" were nominated for the award -Someone went out of their way to tag me and several other authors into the convo. I had twenty fucking minutes to enjoy something that should have felt like a success, before someone went out of their way to make sure I knew that I wasn't welcome in my own community spaces.

It wasn't a discussion about problematic things in the books. It was a bunch of people saying it was bad that we were nominated, that we didn't have a right to tell those stories, that we should be ashamed for submitting the work for consideration. That we weren't queer enough to tell queer stories. Again- this had nothing to do with the story, with anything people found problematic or unrealistic about the work. This was a group of people discussing why I, as a person (a person who does actually credential myself as queer in my twitter bio, btw, even though I hate the -concept- so. fucking. much.), was not welcome to tell my own queer stories in queer spaces and be considered for queer awards.

And whatever, right? Sure, a growing group of people said they'd never buy any of my books because "straight women should shut up" (which, hi, suuuuuper not cool in its own right, but you're entitled to your opinion, whatevs) and a bunch of other shit that I've tried really hard not to remember.

My point here isn't woe is me- it's that a bunch of other people went out of their way to make sure I knew they disliked ME, they questioned MY validity and worth as a member of the LGBTQ community, and they did it because I have a public twitter profile where I interact with people as an author. (Which again, they didn't actually LOOK at.) They did it without caring how I got to where I was, how long I'd worked to be able to tell queer stories as a queer person. And if I'd defended myself at all, I would have been the problem. These people were actively taking away my space and success AS A QUEER PERSON, while pretending to act in the interest of queer people.

As someone with mental health issues that don't need exploring at this juncture, seeing people say that I PERSONALLY should be silenced, that I PERSONALLY should shut the fuck up, should stop writing, should stop PRETENDING I had the right to literally tell the stories of my own existence, it was deeply upsetting. The closest thing to a threat of physical violence (thankfully) was someone saying people needed to be slapped.

On a writing level? It fucked me up. Like a typical neurotic writer, I have scads of Imposter Syndrome, and something that felt so cruel and isolating, so exclusionary, coming out of celebrating a piece of work I made, as a queer person, with my very queer wife, telling a story that literally brought us together, was fucking -shattering-. Our next book still isn't done with edits. (There are other factors there- namely a host of physical health problems that cropped up shortly after all this.) Every time I sit down to work, in the back of my mind I remember that even though I'm out, even though I made an effort to make myself available for discussion and public consumption, I am Not Queer Enough.

And you know the best part? I wouldn't have seen any of it, if someone had not gone out of their way to tag me into the conversation.

It takes zero fucking seconds to not be an asshole.

(I very much am not posting this as a Poor Me thing. It's to share an experience, not to garner sympathy or whatever. Because I'm fucking tired of seeing this happen. You can think whatever the hell you want about my writing, you can think whatever the hell you want about ME. You can discuss it, you can dissect it, you can say I make horrible puns when I'm drunk, and worse ones when I'm sober. But you're not entitled to access to me, or any other writer, just like I'm not entitled to your time as a reader.)

[an-sceal]

What a time to be alive. 👀😍

William Zabka servin' up the goods in Back to School