We are born into a world with heteronormative mechanics already in place, and from the moment we are born, we are spoon-fed the societal ideology that heterosexuality is “normal”, and anything that does not conform to that is abnormal. Our world is built to uplift heterosexual relationships, which leads to the ostracization of queer individuals. For many queer individuals, being perceived as straight is just easier. You don’t have to worry about who will push you out of their life, or losing your loved ones, or being harassed and persecuted for who you love. You don’t have to worry for your safety. Seventy-one countries around the world criminalize same-sex relationships, and eleven of those countries enforce the death penalty for it. Queer individuals in those countries are forced to either hide who they are or flee their country. All around us, we can see the discrimination, persecution and stigmatization that queer individuals face, and not just in drastic ways such as anti-gay laws. Subtle homophobia and heterosexism is very prevalent in our society, even in countries that may be perceived as more accepting and inclusive. 

I was socialized to believe that heterosexuality was the only normal way of life. But even more so than that, I was socialized to believe that I was straight. And the sad truth is that my story is one of millions. This experience isn’t unique to me, it is a universal experience. 

I always expected that I would end up with a husband. After all, that was what I had been conditioned to believe my whole life. Growing up, all my friends had a mom and a dad, and the vast majority of adults I knew were straight. On top of that, I was often teased for having male friends, and was constantly asked “is he your boyfriend?”. Later in life, that question morphed into “Do you have a boyfriend?” or “How does such a pretty girl like you not have a boyfriend?”. Without even meaning to, adults in my life were pushing the heteronormative narrative, and I came to accept heterosexuality as normal. 

All of this was reinforced by what I saw in the world around me. For example, in TV and movies, there was very rarely a gay character, and if there was, they were a heavily-stereotyped side character, most likely there for comedic relief. Even shows with queer representation often portray queer relationships as a struggle. It is extremely rare to watch a show in which two queer characters are happy, and in which they didn’t have to overcome some sort of struggle to be with one another. Media that does include queer individuals is often classified as “not family-friendly” or explicit. A current example of this is Jojo Siwa, a popular singer, dancer and social media personality who came out as gay on her Instagram. Siwa’s fan base demographic is primarily composed of young girls, and while she did receive an overwhelming amount of support, there were many parents that claimed it was inappropriate for her to “force” her sexuality on young children, and that their children would no longer watch her videos. This highlights the idea that queerness is regarded as “dirty” or overtly sexual in nature when it is nothing of the sort. To put it in perspective, a romance movie with a straight couple could be recreated shot for shot with a same-sex couple, and it would be seen in a totally different light. 

In school, our sex-ed class was centred explicitly around heterosexuality, and it seemed that within my peer group, queer sex, and queerness in general, was heavily stigmatized, and labelled as disgusting and unnatural. Schools rarely cover LGBTQ+ issues in their curriculum, and if they do, it is often heavily sanitized. LGBTQ+ issues, and LGBTQ+ individuals, are being erased from education. Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill would completely eliminate all discussion of any LGBTQ+ topics within classrooms and would force schools to out students, even if they believe that it would result in abuse or neglect. Florida is not the only state to pass a bill like this, 15 other “Don't Say Gay”-style bills are in the works in eight other states. Bills such as these have tremendous negative effects on students. They are damaging and detrimental to both their mental and physical well-being. The education system is failing queer youth. 

Stigma and discrimination are also portrayed in religious contexts, which deemed that homosexuality was both unnatural, and sinful, and tells both young children and adults alike that they will burn in hell for eternity for their queerness. 

I could go on and on, but the point is that I was never exposed to any form of media that portrayed queer relationships in a positive light, which lead to the fact that I never even saw it as an option for myself. And, all of this, this repression of queerness, whether it be intentional or not, is a huge example of hegemony. Society, and myself as an individual, is unknowingly consenting to the prolonged ostracization and marginalization of queer individuals.  

This resulted in a multitude of emotions. I had immense feelings of guilt, and I was angry, first with myself, and then after, with the world, and the people around me. I had deep-seated anxiety and fear about what would happen if anyone found out. I felt alone and isolated from my friends and my family. 

Growing up in a heteronormative world, I was subjected to compulsory heterosexuality, which took me years to overcome. Compulsory heterosexuality, also known as comphet, revolves around the idea that heterosexuality is forced upon us by society. I believed that I was straight because that was what it took for me to conform with my peers, and with society. And as a result of the ideas that society had built for me, I struggled with internalized homophobia. I felt guilty and as though something was wrong with me. I tried to suppress my feelings, hoping that I could talk myself out of it. I have this one very vivid memory, from when I was in seventh grade. I was sitting with my friends, and they were talking about boys, and I thought to myself “am I a lesbian?”. As quickly as the thought had come into my mind, I banished it. I remember thinking, “Even if I am, I won’t ever show it. I can pretend to be straight, and no one will ever know.” This fear of being gay was something that stayed with me. Even once I was able to understand and accept myself, I was worried about what other people would say. The idea of coming out was terrifying to me. What if it changed how people saw me? What if I became an outcast, ostracized for being who I truly was?

This is the reality of growing up in a heteronormative world. It’s not just me, it’s millions of queer individuals all around the world, and it will continue this way if we don’t take action. Doing nothing and staying on this same track will only promote the suffering of more youth. According to a survey by The Trevor Project in 2020, forty percent of LGBTQ+ youth had had suicidal idealizations at some point in their life. Queer youth are at a much higher risk for suicide or self-harm due to the discrimination and violence that they experience. We as a society can not say that we care about the future of our children, and then continue on in this fashion. Action needs to be taken, and the status quo needs to be reworked. 

So how can we move forward? Some may say we need to become more accepting, more tolerant. In my view, that is not enough. Queerness is not something to be tolerated, it has to be celebrated. And not just during Pride Month. Queer issues and queer individuals matter all the time, not just for one month a year. The media needs to hold more space for queer stories, whether that be in movies, on tv, in books. The education system needs to recognize, acknowledge and teach queer history, sex ed and current events, as well as queer individuals. Even if students are not safe at home, they should be able to come to school and feel safe, accepted and celebrated for being themselves. This is the bare minimum, but somehow, it is still not being enacted within our society, and it’s time for that to change. I should be able to share my story. I should be able to love, without having to hide, without the fear of backlash and harassment hanging over my head. My queerness should be accepted, normalized, and above all, celebrated.