The Most Difficult Form of Defiance

Words by Sterling Jones (they/them)

People often think of queer defiance as brick throwing, riots, and protests, and they’re not wrong. Throughout our history, it has been the only way to make our voices heard, especially for queer black people, indigenous people, and people of colour. We only need to remember the trans rallies from earlier this year to understand why. Still, as queerness becomes more acceptable and we inch our way to achieving equality, we must adapt to honour the progress made and those who made it happen. They had no choice except to fight for their survival and our future, and thanks to them, we no longer ^only have to survive. We can be defiant by thriving. 

Thriving is the antithesis of oppression. It is the affirmation of our freedom; it is the dream of our progenitors. We stick up the middle finger to those who would tell us ‘you cannot’ and say ‘I will’. We keep on doing it again and again and again for the rest of our lives. 

But where do you start?

The first step is to survive, get by day-by-day, put one foot in front of the other, and learn to do what you can while knowing things will improve. Survival is about doing whatever is necessary to care for, be kind to, and show love to ourselves. Wow, that’s it? It’s an easier task for some than others. For me, I try to remember that coffee isn’t food and to hold on a little longer to hugs. But for 15-year-old me, surviving meant leaving home for school one day and deciding never to return. 

Do whatever it takes.

Oh, and your most important tool for survival? Ask for help. The worst they can say is ‘no’, but I wouldn’t turn away someone who asked for my help—would you?

The next step is to overcome. Overcome what? Everything! Start with that Tupperware container that’s been sitting at the back of your fridge for half the year (what was even in there?). Next, do your laundry, vacuum your room, and punch a Nazi. It’s about facing a challenge, and what makes a challenge is risk. There is a risk in everything we do in our lives, including cleaning out mould-filled leftovers. The risk is that something will not go our way, that we won’t be able to do it, and that we will fail. 

So don’t do it. Just leave it. Walk away from it because you might fail. Coward.

That is the same paralysing fear those protesters, rioters, and brick throwers endured so that we could be proud of who we are. They had no way of knowing that homosexuality would be decriminalised, a treatment for HIV/AIDS would be found, marriage equality would happen, or that someday we could change the gender marker on our birth certificates. But they did know something: the people standing in their way relied on them to be too afraid of failure to demand change to maintain the status quo.

They saw hope in the opportunity for change. 

There is opportunity in everything we do in our lives, including opening mould-filled leftovers, that something is going to go our way, that we will be able to do it, and that we will succeed. So do it. Just give it a go. Stick with it because everything in life has the risk of failure, and there is the hope of success in every risk. 

To truly understand this, to live this, is to thrive. 

And that is why the most difficult form of queer defiance is thriving.