*Authors note: I started writing this as a personal narrative for class but I couldn’t make it happen. I have no idea where I’d go after this but I’m proud of it. Here we have about a fifth of an essay about queer love
To be vulnerable is to be a man. I'm an imposter of a man, not because of the shape of my body, but because I take the path of least resistance. My manhood is locked behind bureaucracy, and I don't care enough to go get it. The women I've loved are not agents of the state, they hand it over, telling me I'm handsome while pulling up my skirt. They stroke my sparse scraggly beard hairs in bed and remind me to take my shot on Saturdays.
I struggle with labels. I struggle to find the ones that will bring me peace.
"What do you mean you're not a lesbian?" I've been asked, before I stopped arguing.
"Well for one, I'm bisexual," and I'm not a woman. Neither of those things stopped lesbians in the past, but those days- my school days- the distinction seemed a lot more important.
These days it makes so much sense to prioritize women and their love. There’s a connection to queer history when you experience love unbounded by conventions, like the men of the past wrote about. There’s something extraordinary when you love many women and they love each other. There is so much pain in trying to keep that love safe. There is loneliness when you’re not quite as enlightened as the woman you love, and she comes and goes.
I told her other girlfriend once “She’s a wild horse” because that’s all I could think to say when she confessed to me how deeply she loved our partner, how desperately she wanted to feel that same love mirrored back.
Maybe it makes sense to keep moving around, to collect partners across the country.
Five years after I graduated I'd interrupt a tender moment. "I think I might be a lesbian." She stopped kissing me to listen. "I feel such a strong attachment to femininity, not that that's required. I don't know. I've never wanted to kiss a man like this, I have, but it didn't feel the same." Or was it the love I had for her? Or my lack of ability to find that love in a man? Or my good relationship with my father? Or my need for an older woman to tell me I pleased her?
Being queer isn’t all about sex. It’s also about politics. Language is politics, love is politics.
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125,021 Literary Works • 672,740 Reviews
As the reader, I feel like I am eavesdropping, and that’s what makes this so compelling. It’s vulnerable, messy, and human in a way that’s difficult to fake. That is arguably one of the best ways your writing can be described.
But there’s also a kind of intellectual distance here. It’s like you’re carefully arranging your thoughts into neat lines, even while the emotions behind them threaten to spill out. That tension between vulnerability and control is the heartbeat of this, and it works. For example, your voice. There’s a clarity and confidence in how you navigate these tangled ideas of gender, love, and identity, even when the narrator is admitting confusion. There's no melodrama, just humanity.
The themes here are massive, but the structure feels loose. The shifts between personal anecdotes, philosophical musings, and political observations feel jarring. The section where you reflect on your school days feels like it’s gesturing toward a larger point about identity and community, but it’s underdeveloped. It’s not clear how it ties into the broader narrative. Interpretations only go so far!
Suggestions:
- Tighten the structure. Decide what the central narrative is and build around it. There is a lot going on here, and while it's all strong, it's a bit much. If this is about your struggle with labels, let that guide you through the anecdotes and reflections.
- Expand on the emotional side of things. The kiss, the school days, and the “wild horse” metaphor are moments where you should linger. It's okay to slow down!
- Ground the political reflections in the personal. Rather than ending with an abstract declaration, tie the politics back to your lived experience. Show us how language and love have been political for you specifically!
Your raw honesty is carrying this. What does it reveal about you, your relationships, or your identity? I think that may be something to consider.
All the best!
Hai :3
This is such a gorgeous and complex piece!! I’m blown away by how deeply personal and reflective it is, yet it still feels universal in so many ways. The way you weave vulnerability, identity, love, and politics together is just stunning!! There’s a rawness here that’s so captivating ~~ It’s tender, questioning, and unafraid to dive into the messiness of being human. I don't exactly know what you feel, but I understand through similar feelings and experiences. I love this so much!!
What an opening!!
This is such a striking start!! It grabbed me right away and set the tone for the whole narrative. The vulnerability here is incredible, and the honesty is so refreshing!! The idea of manhood being locked behind bureaucracy is such a perfect metaphor, and it captures so much about societal expectations, personal disconnection, and the weight of navigating those systems. It's like resignation mixed with quiet defiance, and it feels so deeply human to me. That's great!!
This part gave me chills!! The way you tie personal experience to queer history is so powerful ~~ Like, it’s like you’re reaching back through time while still staying grounded in the present. The idea of love unbounded by conventions, so palpable and real, feels so freeing. However, there’s also a thread of melancholy, like it’s not as simple or safe as it should be. The emotional complexity here is just so good!! It's true to how real life is to people, which isn't always kind.
Maybe you might be able to explore a bit more about what love means to the narrator though. Like, what do these relationships, these moments, ultimately give or take from them? I thought that immediately from the start. You’ve touched on it so beautifully, but touching is all that has been done. For something like this, leaning into it heavily might be better!! It could add more context to the narrative.
!!!! Perfect closing!!
This ending ties everything together so perfectly!! It’s reflective, powerful, and leaves you with so much to think about. The way you highlight the interconnectedness of identity, love, and politics feels so raw and true. It’s like the whole piece builds up to this realization, and it lands with such an impact. It’s thoughtful and open-ended, leaving room for reflection while still feeling complete. I imagine many people from different walks of life could feel this!! I love it so much!!
You’ve done such an amazing job here with this. Like, it’s all sososo good!! I adore how you’ve navigated these huge, messy themes with such grace and nuance. That isn't always easy to manage. Amazing work!! ^_^
- Payton