Queering Poetry as an act of Resistance

Since I have arrived in Belfast, I have found myself looking for a connection to a community of other queer individuals and I have noticed that others are looking too. Upon arriving at bars or restaurants, I have been stopped by girls who will loudly proclaim that they’re gay, as if they’ve been searching for someone all night who might get it.

Before class, a classmate laughs at a joke made between a friend and me, before shyly saying that they’re also queer. However it happens, I’ve realized that we’re looking for each other, trying to connect, make community, and feel less alone. Our togetherness is safety, its resistance, fighting against our oppression, much of which is done by unifying acts such as art.

Art, much like queerness, exists as a concept that is very difficult to define. For my purpose, I will not seek to define either, as I believe it would be counterproductive. Rather, I will discuss interpretations and effects of queerness and poetry as they relate to each other. In this essay, I focus on history and struggle, love and joy, and how art can move us into action.

Looking through the lens of poetry, I argue that writing on these facets of queer existences functions as a resistive action to preserve and uplift marginalized identities. I encourage the reader to take time to read through the entirety of the poems I have highlighted throughout this essay in order to feel the full intent of the poet.

Just as queer people tend to search and find each other within bars and public spaces, the art we create attempts to close the distance between us and find safety and understanding.

“You would wish long and long to be with him, you would wish to sit by him in the boat that you and he might touch each other…” (I Sing the Body Electric, Walt Whitman)

Queer history, while proof that queerness is not a recent phenomenon, still feels like a particular emerging field of study. One particularly fascinating element of this is the implicit and often explicitly nature of queerness within poetry and art as a method of identifying queer historical figures and documenting the time period they are a product of.

Figures such as Emily Dickson, Sappho, and Oscar Wilde demonstrate this, with their work being used to analyze the functions of queerness during time periods in which art was one of the only ways to safely express their identity With legislation such as the Don't Say Gay bill gaining traction and attention in Florida, the need for teaching and preserving historical proof of LGBTQ individuals becomes crucial for our survival and community wellbeing. 

Walt Whitman’s poetry discusses queer themes during a time in which queerness was dangerous to exhibit. This type of historical account allows for a connection to be cultivated between generations of queer people, seeing their identity and strife echoed back to them. The explicit exploration of queer attraction, that a modern reader could identify as bisexuality gives way for identification of the self within historical work as well as proof in historical bisexuality.

As bisexuality is often overlooked or dismissed, Whitman’s poetry exploring these aspects not only acts as a historical account but also as a disruption of modern day homophobia. Additionally, with Whitman colloquially known as ‘America’s poet’, a reclamation of sorts with the American identity occurs, as America has often opposed our existence. This oppression and disconnection from America and queerness make the presence and fame of Walt Whitman a monument of queer history and success, preserved through self-expression through the arts. 

“..I remember when Harvey was shot:

twenty, and I knew I was queer

Those were the years,

Levi’s and leather jackets holding hands

on Castro Street, cheering for Harvey Milk—

elected on the same day as Dan White.”

(The Mortician in San Francisco, Randall Mann)

Another success of poetry is its capability for historical documentation, an artistic archival of sorts, that allows for the stories of the disenfranchised and forgotten to be told. Within this poem by Randall Mann, not only are important historical figures such as Harvey Milk memorialized, but the queer individuals who lived with him live on through his writing. Providing a connection between the everyday person, the mortician witnessing the murder of his people, and the reader allows for a unification that few other mediums can achieve while engaging historical evidence.

An article about the importance of queer archives by author Hugh Ryan states, “They save the stories of many whose lives would otherwise have been forgotten or distorted.”. In many ways, poetry functions as an accessible archive, one that anyone can engage in to preserve moments in time. Such that one can use art to place themselves back in time, see the community that has existed before them, and see how they thrived despite the odds.  

“Last month a couple of guys left a gay bar and were beaten with poles on the way to their car. No one called them faggot so no hate crime's documented. A beat down is what some pray for, a pulse left to count.”

(Epithalamium, Phillip B. Williams)

The turmoil of being queer, often associated purely with existing, is no stranger to representation within art and popular media. An essay by Annabel Paulsen describes this depiction of queer pain: “The queer experience has historically been painful, and it is important to remember that pain and to honor those who have undergone it”.

She goes on to say that these recollections of pain both express the artist’s rage and evoke similar rage in others, which was particularly prevalent during the AIDs crisis. Many artists used their medium to express the grief of losing loved ones, fear for one’s own life, and anger towards the seemingly uncaring government. Now, we see art used similarly to express the modern-day struggles of queer individuals.

William’s poem speaks to the casual nature of violence, the helplessness towards preventing it, and the uncaring nature of society around the narrator. This representation of the pain experienced within day-to-day life allows for solidarity between queer individuals and the development of empathy for surrounding communities, strengthening bonds and working towards preventing further harm.

Lie to yourself about this and you will forever lie about everything.

(Queer, Frank Bidart)

A topic of debate in recent years has been the overwhelming prevalence of queer pain within depictions of our identity. Within the same essay by Paulsen, she says “Recognition of historical pain is a necessary toxin that warrants time and space within art—but that narrative often consumes others, coming at the expense of the happy queer art that does exist...”.

Art’s power within society to shape worldviews and change minds, through empathy and representation, prevents a challenge when queer pain is the focus of an overwhelming amount of media surrounding LGBT identities. Images of harm inflicted upon our bodies, of families rejecting their children for coming out, of our queer siblings of color experiencing greater risk of discrimination reinforce dated stereotypes and continue cycles of societal abuse. 

There is something to be said, however, about authorship and intent when displaying queer pain to an audience. When done by queer creators intending to express or educate, there is a more complex analysis to be found here, as they brought this art about with experience. Not that this cannot harm, as any depictions of violence can have negative effects.

However, with our history being so entangled with censorship and oppression, restricting the media queer artists create is more counterproductive. When queer violence is displayed by large corporations or non-queer creators, there is a serious critique to be seen in the profiting off of the harm of minoritized communities. The effect of such display often does more harm than the intended good, with stereotypes taking hold of narratives or simply affirming dated struggles. 

They expect us to call in sick, watch television all night, die by our own hands.

They don’t know we are becoming powerful.

Every time we kiss we confirm the new world coming.

(American Wedding, Essex Hemphill)

Though violence and pain within queer communities play a large role in queer poetry, it does not diminish the importance of representing queer love. Writing an unashamed poem about the love one has within a queer relationship is something that challenges the very structure of our society.

As Hemphill touches on within his poem, queer love challenges heteronormativity and the assumption that queerness is associated with anything other than despair. Particularly during the AIDS crisis, the defying of popular belief and fear surrounding queer sex and relationships by presenting them through beautiful practices, such as poetry, was a truly radical act. 

An editorial article on the importance of queer love within art interviewed artists of all different mediums on their perspectives. “Happiness is not pleasure; it’s victory.” May we keep our gorgeous elders protected and happy.”. Artist TM Davy comments on the celebration of queer love as an act of honoring our queer elders, those who fought for their ability to love and therefore, our right as well. Others speak of representation, portraying visibility to future generations, unashamed or censored queerness. 

TM Davy goes on further to say, “When love’s mysteries are allowed to be naked, and all truths embraced inside a protective sphere of this world, that connective blooming may be the garden of our shared belonging”.

By giving queer love a place to thrive, the truth of love can defy societal pressures and guide us toward a place closer to understanding and connection. This does not restrict this facet only for the queer people who are invited through the belonging of the pieces, but also for the non-queer individuals who connect with universal truths of love through poetry and art.

“this gin-heavy heaven, blessed ground to think gay & mean we.

bless the fake id & the bouncer who knew this need to be needed, to belong,

…

i want my new god to look at the mecca i built him & call it damn good or maybe i’m just tipsy & free for the first time, willing to worship anything i can taste.”

(The 17-Year-Old & the Gay Bar, Danez Smith)

Similar to the representation of queer love within poetry, the presence of unabashed joy is a revolutionary factor of queer art. With so much of our experience tied to fear or pain, celebrating the aspects of queerness that bring joy allows for a renewal of sorts within queer spaces. In many instances, joy is a tangent to belonging, understanding, and community.

This exploration of joy is particularly radical as often our oppression lies in the denial of this feeling, with attempts to diminish queer love and happiness. This bliss that has been denied to the queer community is one that the queer individuals who came before us fought for as well as enjoyed just the same as we do. Through this joy, we can connect with the past as well as the future, one in which we can believe and know we belong.

So it is better to speak remembering we were never meant to survive.

(A Litany for Survival, Audre Lorde)

With so much of poetry focused on the personal, there is something to be said about the power of the art that turns the attention of the work outward onto the reader. Audre Lorde uses her poetry to communicate the hardships of being queer and also Black, while also calling upon strength and motivation for her audience. Within A Litany for Survival, Lorde speaks to a disenfranchised audience, whether it is queer or Black or both.

She recognizes the struggles of these communities and urges them to remember their underlying strength. This type of recognition of queer strength and power that has been preserved through the medium of art provides such an impactful point for underprivileged communities to draw upon. Like an anthem of sorts, Lorde embraces the idea that we were not meant to survive but we did, and that this is a gift, one that should empower you to speak your mind and take up space.

We will be everywhere, always; there's nowhere else for us, or you, to go.

Anywhere you run in this world, love will be there to greet you.

Around any corner, there might be two men. Kissing.

(A Poem for Pulse, Jameson Fitzpatrick)

Another audience for poetry that inspires action is a non-queer audience, one that needs to be inspired toward caring for a cause that does not directly affect them. Fitzpatrick’s poem discusses the tragedy that occurred at the Pulse nightclub and asks a non-queer reader to consider why such displays of affection in public would warrant taking so many people’s lives.

Such display of violence, particularly after such a large public tragedy, can inspire those who have not considered the danger and fear felt by queer individuals to support their cause and advocate against hate crimes and acts of violence.

Artist Catherine Opie comments on this power, “Without visibility, one can’t imagine different ideas about their own thoughts, their own desires.”. Art has the capability of challenging others to reconsider their previous worldviews, but that can only occur when queer visibility is brought to the forefront of this art. 

In my time at Queen’s University, I have been taking a poetry course even though I will admit that my major has absolutely nothing to do with writing. I have always found it to be a fascinating art form, one that I have always been drawn to, and was thrilled to take this class during my time abroad.

Upon entering my first workshop with my teaching assistant, I realized this class would be deeply healing to me. My TA, a queer poet named Padraig Reagan, gave way for exploration of my queerness throughout my poetry without fear of repercussion or misunderstanding. His reading of my poetry is attentive and active, that of someone who truly understands the importance of writing about one’s own identity. 

I have been looking for this connection, before class with my peers and in bars with drunk girls who try to grasp my hand tight as if I will disappear before their eyes. The future of queer art and poetry looks to be one of prosperity and joy, with new emerging artists able to use technology and changing societal opinions as a starting point to making queer art easier and more readily accessible.

With queer poets stepping up to guide the next generation, encourage art of all kinds, and make those connections between individuals that foster community, I believe that the art to be produced in the coming years will have the power to disrupt the continued oppression the queer community faces.