Heteronormativity is everywhere

Heteronormativity is pervasive, even in the ivory towers of academia. Heteronormativity is when heterosexuality is treated as more natural than other sexual orientations, and is inherently damaging to queer people. It was the fear of being treated as deviant — which happens almost every day of my life as a direct result of being openly gay — that prevented my coming out for a very long time.

In this column throughout the semester, I will be challenging heteronormativity and making it clear that heteronormativity — like homophobia — is always unacceptable. This first installment will focus on heteronormativity in the heterosexual world. Part two will focus on my own experience as a queer person who internalized heteronormativity and my inability to acknowledge and resist it.

I will not be addressing arguments for and against homosexuality; there is a good deal of material available for those interested in the topic, and 500 to 600 words simply cannot do it justice.
Regardless of the cause of homosexuality, I believe that, as queer people are doing no harm to others and are well-established as a legitimate sexual orientation, we should be treated with all the respect granted to heterosexuals.

Heteronormativity is to acceptance as homophobia is to tolerance. While the homophobic person is unable or unwilling to tolerate queer people, heteronormative people are unable or unwilling to accept queer people as true equals. Because it is subtler than homophobia, heteronormativity often operates under the heterosexual radar, and is dismissed by heterosexuals when concerns are raised.

This in itself is harmful: queer people are told via the acceptance of heteronormativity that our marginalization is legitimate, regardless of personal impact. The queer person’s self-esteem is secondary to the institution of heterosexuality.

As suggested, even the enlightened university student is often prone to heteronormative remarks. Comments I have encountered include the suggestion that to speak of characters in an historical novel as queer is to “project” a “modern” identity upon them. Radcliffe Hall and other historical queer figures would object to this notion. However, when I objected by citing such examples, I received blank stares in response.

I dreaded this class from then on, particularly that student and others who agreed with them. This was compounded when the professor completely ignored my email about how marginalizing the student’s statements were and how it affected me personally.

I am grateful that, at this time, I was out of the closet and had mostly come to terms with my own internalized heteronormativity. However, coming out should not be a stressful event to plan and practice; it should not even be necessary. I had to wait months before coming out to my heterosexual parents because they had heard distressing news two months after I realized I am queer.

This meant I had to lie to them by making up male names for the women I was dating. I wanted to be honest with them — I wanted them to know me — but this was not possible at the time because they, too, had been indoctrinated by heteronormativity. When I finally came out, I was confessing rather than sharing. I wanted to soften the blow, but knew there was no way to do so.

Living a lie means constantly testing the waters of social interaction. If someone makes a heteronormative comment around a closeted queer person, it is likely that person will internalize the comment — as we have been taught to do — and stay closeted for longer. Being closeted is painful, and is something we as a society should seek to reduce.