The LGBTQ + Movement

I wonder if these activists run into the same problem I do, that they fear offending and misunderstanding a culture different then their own. Perhaps people are simply trying to “stay in their own lane.” When I make these observations, it is not an attempt to lambast any particular groups. Within the LGBTQ+ movement, there has been an increased attempt to welcome people who look like me, speak the same language as me, listen to the same music, and watch the same movies. Discussions have increased among fringe groups about intersectionality between multiple conflicting identities, and all of this is so important to furthering equality. The problem is that these movements are often small and timid, too afraid of stepping on any toes to demand …show more content…
In the LGBTQ+ community, I think no one will forget the date 6/26. The problem is, outside of the group, my immediate circle of Indians--disconnected from American politics—had no idea. When the announcement was made, I wanted to cry, wanted to call someone, or celebrate, or drunkenly marry a stranger in Las Vegas. Instead, I painstakingly painted my fingernails with rainbow flags, tracing the date onto my body like a neon tattoo; it was the closest thing to coming out I’ve ever done. Then, I got dressed for an Indian celebration. No one noticed my nails; but I didn’t expect them to. Instead, my rebellious, ostentatious fingers straightened out the creases in the traditional maroon satin of my lehenga. The juxtaposition in this image for me cannot be strange, or startling. This image is me, weird and natural and perfectly …show more content…
I would never insult my parents by claiming they don’t love me. That would degrade every guilt-tripping immigration story I’ve heard in my life; it would contradict the phone calls I get at five in the morning every time I take a flight, and the acquiescence to my borderline ridiculous demands to find ethically-sourced fast food four hours into a bumpy car ride. I’m not sure anyone could put up with me if they didn’t love me. It’s in this love that I know I have the right to barge into their world, to upset any pre-held social codes, to bother them with my existence. If they haven’t gotten sick of me yet, I figure I can push a little more. My father has room in his conservative house for a “bleeding-heart liberal” who likes to fight him over the dinner table; I’m sure he can make room for whatever hippy daughter-in-law I eventually force upon him,