Louis Peitzman's October article, It Gets Better, Unless You're Fat, could have been a homerun. But the article falls short in the face of the entire reason the article was written: Peitzman's (and our) own insecurity.
One can't fault Peitzman for his position and he points out valid toxicity, particularly within the gay community. It's just unfortunate that a well written essay on a well read website ends with the sour question of whether things truly will get better. Kudos for asking the question. "It Gets Better" is about as simplistic and ineffectual as "Just Say No" or "You can do anything you set your mind to."
Unfortunately, given Peitzman's apparent age he seems to be in a large generation caught between a world in which gays accepted each other absolutely, and a world of fake acceptance brought to us by blazing fast internet speed.
He references a worn notion that coming out is like joining a private club, one where "you’re automatically granted inclusion." The notion was once very true, but now only lingers beneath the culture that replaced it.
With politicians on our side and gay characters on every major television network, many within our community no longer feel the need to band together simply because of our sexualities. In the past, no matter who we were or what we looked like, we once fought side by side. We depended on each other for support.
But as soon as acceptance hit 51%, the stock market of tolerance tipped in favor of selfishness, and the rainbow turned to a tasteful blue and yellow that looked less garish on the bumper of our Prius.
We've organized ourselves into groups within our own community. We're no longer gay, lesbian, or bisexual. We're bears, butches, muscle daddies, twinks, and femmes. We won the fight for acceptance amongst rational heterosexuals, but discontent with battle ending, we turned against our own men and women. Bottoms are sluts, bears are fat, bisexuals are confused. And those of us who fought so hard for one simple end - just being who we are - are forced by our brothers and sisters to choose a role, a label, in a community that champion's the mantra, "it's not a choice."
While heterosexuals increasingly shrug off the notion of sexuality with a nonchalant, "eh, who cares?" we've become our own worst enemy.
Instead of internalizing Tina Fey's message in Mean Girls, we celebrate the 10th anniversary of a movie drenched in symbolism by proudly dubbing ourselves a Regina or a Gretchen, excluding the "fat girls," and ignoring the Janice in all of us. Such pop culture references may seem silly, but if Facebook is any indication they're relevant, especially to our community. Will we give the same reverence to the 20th anniversary of Clueless next year? A movie that painted the true "mean girls" as Monets and the most popular as doers of good deeds, seeking beauty in everything, and embracing an outsider as the "Botticelli chick."
Peitzman ended his article in futility, perhaps due to his age and personal frustration. His stance is valid but disturbingly indicative of a generation that never knew the solidarity of hardship. Instead of asking if it will get better, I'd rather ask how. Will our community find our way back to each other on our own, or will we need to be faced with past bigotry before we realize we're all on the same parade float?
Worse, will we find ourselves facing adversity at our own hands, criticizing each other with such meaningless vanity that allies who have come to embrace us begin to believe the same shame we cast within our own community?
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