吃瓜网

This past summer, I spent a week on land stewarded by for nearly four decades. I was surrounded by folks of myriad genders, sexualities, races, (dis)abilities and—most notably—ages. It was truly an intergenerational queer gathering. One evening I shared dinner with a table full of queens in their 60s, 70s and 80s and listened to them trade stories. They exclaimed wordlessly at each “remember when” and frequently interjected additional details and colorful commentary. I heard about friends and lovers long passed, drag personas born in literal closets, and cross-country drives to the safe havens of one another’s apartments. 

In the midst of their nostalgia I was struck with a realization: I had never before been in the presence of so many queer elders. In all my years learning queer histories to share with college students, I’d never been so fortunate as to hear first-hand this kind of queer history, the personal histories that don’t always make it into a documentary or book. I felt deeply grateful for this dinner, and for the faerie sanctuary that brought us together. 

October is LGBTQIA+ History month, and as I meditate on the importance of LGBTQIA+ history, I think of those elders whose histories I had the privilege of hearing and learning from. LGBTQIA+ history is a tapestry of personal counter-narratives; it is thread upon colorful thread of small, shared stories that when woven together remind us: We’ve been here. We will always be here.

When legislators trans identities, LGBTQIA+ history reminds us that trans and gender-diverse people have been victoriously defying oppressive systems since before those words existed to describe them. When the COVID-19 pandemic hit, LGBTQIA+ history provided us with a through an epidemic. When a queer first-year student is nervous about moving to a little town in eastern Washington, LGBTQIA+ history assures them of . When we see injustice in the world and move to make change, LGBTQIA+ history reminds us of the importance of solidarity, and of of our organizing. 

We’ve been here. LGBTQIA+ history tells us the stories of our lineage; it tells us what mistakes we can learn from, how to care for one another, how to love well, how to persist when persistence feels impossible. LGBTQIA+ history tells queer folks and everyone else: we will always be here. 

I encourage our Whitman community to take time this month to engage in the diversity of LGBTQIA+ histories out there. I have shared a few recommendations below to help get you started.

At Whitman:

• Follow LGBTQIA+ Student Services on Instagram () and keep up with our “LGBT History in 60 Seconds” video series
• Dive into local queer histories with David Nord Award recipient Nikki Brueggeman’s oral history project “” archived with the Penrose Library
• Check out the Whitman Queer Memory Map, a project in partnership with Alumni Relations and inspired by the . Add your own piece of queer Whitman history or read others’ contributions in the QRC, Reid 216

Read: 

Watch: 

• (2005)
• (2012)
• “Major!” (2015)

Listen: 

• You’re Wrong About podcast - Lawrence v. Texas ( & )
• Nuances podcast:
• Queer as Fact podcast -
• History is Gay podcast -