
I am currently reading a ton of books with a GLBTQ focus because as a panelist for the GLBTQ category for the Indie Lit Awards, I have access to a large list of books published in 2010 that fall into this category. Recently, I was questioned about my current read,
Missed Her by Ivan Coyote, and after telling this person – whom I barely knew – about the book and why I was reading it, I was asked the following two questions: “Why would you want to read books about gay people?” And “How can a straight person review books about gay people?” Followed up by the line: “That doesn’t make sense.” Typically, this wouldn’t bother me, but it is not the first time in the last year that my reading of GLBTQ literature has been questioned. I have even received a few emails based on the blog. Some of the self-righteous emailers believe I am going to hell because I am "promoting sins against God and man"; others think I am "trying to identify with a set I have no relation to" and that "reading queer does not make me cool". But back to the face-to-face conversation.
My first task was to educate this person about GLBTQ and how the term gay is not some sort of catchall for everyone who doesn’t fit normative definitions of gender and sexuality. At which point, it seemed both questions were still perfectly relevant according to my questioner. After all, I am biologically, culturally, and socially female. I like men. A lot. Primarily straight, stereotypically manly looking men. I prefer my men to be rather male, lacking effeminate qualities, although I do like my men to shower regularly, be clean-shaven, and keep the bodily expulsions to a minimum.

So, back to tackling the two questions: Why would I want to read books about GLBTQ people? Uh, because it’s interesting and important and universally relevant. To me, the question is ridiculous. Why would I want to read books about covert spies or people living in Victorian London or little trains that think they can? I am not a train in case you were wondering.
As for the second question: How can a straight person review books about GLBTQ people? Well, that one may be a little more complicated, but I will give it a shot. Wait, did I mention I am not a train? I did? Okay. If I can review a book about a warrior from ancient Greece, I can review a book about a trans female in contemporary New York. Actually, I am willing to bet some seriously large amounts of cash that I have a great deal more in common with the second than the first. But to be clear, I still think I could review a book about a trans female warrior from ancient Greece too. Actually, someone should write a book about that; it would be interesting.
I am not going to pretend that I can fully relate to every GLBTQ experience. For one, I, as mentioned previously, am straight. For two, any lesbian experiences or tendencies I may exhibit are generally met with quite positive reinforcement as I am female and straight, and, as I’m sure you all know, that’s just freaking hot to my preferred pool of partner possibilities, straight men.
At the same time, all people have struggles. Every group (and individual) suffers from the weight of stereotypes, expectations, biases, and otherwise limiting perspectives based on preconceived notions of who a person should be (whether because of gender, race, religion, career, physicality, etc.). I can sympathize with the struggle to be accepted, to be appreciated, to be taken seriously. Hell I can empathize. I think we all can. At the core of it all, we are all human beings, as Ana pointed out in the comments to my post yesterday.

Yet despite what is, to me, the obviousness of why I want to and can read GLBTQ literature, it would appear that quite a few people don’t get it. At all. So if it will make it easier for everyone, I’ll just start saying I am gay. That’s right people I am coming out. I own The L Word, Queer as Folk, and a host of other GLBTQ shows; I read a ton of GLBTQ literature and watch GLBTQ movies; I think guy-on-guy or girl-on-girl action can be hot; Angelina Jolie, Salma Hayek, and Halle Berry make me reconsider my straightness; I can belt out show tunes and rock out to Cher; I very rarely wear skirts or make-up or pink or ribbons (actually, no ribbons ever); I can say butch, femme, dandy, fag hag, gay boy, and queen in completely non-derogatory, “you-are-my-homey” ways; I have been friends with men without ever experiencing sexual tension, and I have been friends with women with sexual tension; I think Columbia, Magenta, Rocky, Frank-N-furter, Brad, and Janet are awesome; I love Stephen Fry; I can and do use words like heteronormativity, cisgender, intersex, and top surgery correctly. I could keep going, but I think you get the picture. I am clearly gay.

And if coming out as the straightest gay person ever isn't enough for you (or the gayest straight person), well there's always this: I have permission from
Cass who is awesome. "As a self-professed queer person and on behalf of the GLBTQ community, I hereby give Trisha permission to read and review books which include GLBTQ characters or are about topics relating to the GLBTQ community."
Now is it okay if I read GLBTQ books in public?