I think every queer person I’ve ever talked to has worried about the word “enough” a lot.
I don’t know where we all got it, but as sure as all third graders magically know how to draw that pointy S, all queer people seem to develop the idea that queerness is something you can possess in a measurable quantity. What’s more, everyone seems to have an idea of how much of it you need in order to be considered real. Real enough to talk about it, to use a certain label, to receive care, or real enough to be accepted by a community. “You must be at least this X to call yourself Y,” we imagine, as if it’s a measuring tape before getting on a roller-coaster.
But here’s the kicker: since you invented this prerequisite, you also get to move the goal post, and most people do.
I first had this anxiety when I was 14 and realized I was bi, and I still have this anxiety now, even as a polyamorous nonbinary person who’s had gender-affirming surgery and is currently dressed in a fairy outfit while eating brunch with a flamingo I met on Grindr. The anxiety doesn’t actually care what you’re doing, because it’s not about that.
What are we actually worried about? What do we risk if we are or are not “queer enough”? Well, I only have 400 words in this column, so you’re going to have to forgive me for generalizing, but I think one of the main reasons is that we all have the platonic ideal living in our heads of what it means to be queer. This idea of a person might be informed by any number of things (media, our parents’ ideas, our social circle, etc.), but that person is only queer. They’re just an idea, they don’t have a whole life to focus on, or other aspects of themselves to embody—they only exist to represent a concept in your head. Then the puritan who also lives in your head (probably Margaret Thatcher) says you don’t meet this impossible standard and so you should deny yourself community and resources and respect because you are imperfect.
I’m here to remind you, and myself, that the Margaret Thatcher who lives in your head cannot dictate who you are; she can only invalidate you. It’s not a good policy. Whether you’re joining me and the lawn flamingo at brunch or just letting yourself explore new feelings, you’re enough just as you are. Tell Margaret to scram, since you never voted for her anyways.
I don’t have a media recommendation that relates to this specifically, but I would highly recommend giving a listen to the podcast A Bit Fruity with Matt Bernstein to hear eloquent queer voices on the issues of the day.