Their infant daughter, the doctor had said, had XY chromosomes. Male chromosomes.
1969. Queer bodies existed out of mainstream society’s dialogue in the USA. The modern Gay Liberation Movement had not begun and it’s not hard to imagine a time where Homosexuality was illegal.
Pride began that night, and its vanguard was firebrand trans woman of colour, Marsha P. Johnson.
For years we have created all sort of genres with hetero-cis plotlines, perhaps Love, Simon proves to be the gateway to mainstreaming the same for queer narratives.
From the corner of her lazy eye she caught sight of a pile of cucumbers stacked away among raw tubers of all shapes. The perfect summer vegetable. Or fruit?
While most cis-straight folk in our country are probably not referring to tone deaf dissertations to raise their kids, Indian parents have always seemed to follow a subconscious code to reinforce gender and cis-heterosexual contexts.
After 800 years of ignoring who I really was, watching everyone in my clan get paired up with their significant other, and somehow, not fitting in no matter how much I tried was like living queer puberty on loop for centuries.
I remember watching the L word in the early years of college when I didn’t move with the feminist agency I do now. As a younger more impressionable queer woman, the highbrow posh characters of the show sunk their teeth in fast and I was hooked. But something seemed off.