This weekend, I can’t help but reflect on the ongoing tension within the queer community between those who embrace radical authenticity and those who lean towards what’s often called “respectability politics.” It’s a tug-of-war that seems never-ending—whether it’s debates over kink at Pride, the visibility of drag shows, or even something as innocent as holding hands with a same-sex partner in public.
There’s a prevailing belief in some circles that to gain wider acceptance, we need to behave, conform, and avoid rocking the boat. Let’s call it what it is: Respectability Politics.
Respectability politics asks us to smile more, demand less, and appear “presentable” to the mainstream. It wants our drag shows to be entertaining but not “too political,” and our activism to be bold but not “too disruptive.” It tells us that our anger is counterproductive, that our protests make people uncomfortable, and that our demands for liberation are a bit too much, really.
Respectability politics isn’t a new phenomenon—far from it. It’s been a persistent narrative since the civil rights era, whispering to marginalized folks that the only path to equality is by making ourselves more palatable to those in power. But here’s the thing: If we play by their rules, are we really playing to win?
For queer folks, rejecting respectability politics has always been at the core of our fight for liberation. Stonewall wasn’t an act of playing nice. It wasn’t sanitized or performed for the cameras. It was a fierce act of resistance against police brutality and institutional oppression, a declaration that we’re here, we’re not going away, and we refuse to shrink ourselves to make anyone else comfortable.
So, this weekend, let’s ask ourselves: Whose comfort are we prioritizing when we call for the quieter, softer, more “acceptable” parts of our community to take centre stage? And more importantly, who is that really helping?
We don’t need everyone’s approval to survive, thrive, and achieve liberation. And sometimes, our existence will make people uncomfortable—but that discomfort is theirs to manage, not ours.
Maybe it’s time to let go of this relentless desire to be liked, to be palatable, and to be “good enough.” Maybe it’s time to flip the script: Queer liberation isn’t just about acceptance by the mainstream; it’s about carving out a world where we can show up, proudly and unapologetically, exactly as we are.
Happy weekend, folks—stay unapologetically queer. – TML