I know everyone and their queer aunt has landed on the Born This Way photo blog/essay in the last month now, but I wanted to toss in a thought or two on the subject for the record (since that's what us nosy bloggettes are notorious for).
Once a queer kid has taken the steps to accept herself, or to start sharing her real self to others, one of the greatest moments beyond the closet door arrives in the form of retrospection—we go back to excavate the photo albums for evidence of the baby gays we were. More often than not, we stumble across those blatant, obvious photos screaming out our proto-queerness, and we marvel over the fact our loved ones were somehow shocked when we chose to come out.
O'Neill sent me this link a few weeks ago, and I cannot stop poring over the personal stories and the adorable photos that queers across the Internet have submitted. I find it overwhelming (in the awesome sense) to see photos ranging across the twentieth-century. It's fascinating to read the accounts of queer people growing up throughout different decades among various cultural backgrounds. Despite our differences, we all share that one common experience of emerging from our own fears and insecurities to finally embrace that tiny version of ourselves from so long ago. Born This Way achieved the one goal I wished to see—a space where queer-identified people of all ages could gather, reminisce, and find our similarities despite the generation gaps.
Brilliant! Enlightenment, at last!
Of course, the next morning, I ran to the photo albums to find pictures of me in full baby dyke regalia, but—
I'll be damned.
I discovered I remembered life a lil' differently from the photos populating our albums. Most of the shots taken of Lil' Miz Moffatt were from family gatherings which meant I was decked out in full-on party dresses for the occasion. I come from a British-Scottish-Newfoundlander background, and I can tell you it's a traditional scene when it comes to gender norms. Now, of course, we've all relaxed a touch with age, but we were not exempt from formal attire as kiddies. And, having an older sister guaranteed girly hand-me-downs in the dozens…
Of course, I know assuming stereotypes tends to be more hurtful than helpful—I know of a large contingent of queer femmes who would be rightly pissed at the assumption that butch little girl = queer (and I know of some butch straight gals who would take offence to being stereotyped, too). But, when I remember the clothes I loved wearing as a child, I know for a fact it revolved around overalls and baseball tees.
So…where are those shots?
A few exist, but the overwhelming image skews me toward the opposite end of the spectrum.
Regardless of the strange absence of the everyday shots, I'll still take to skimming through the albums to get that shot of the baby dyke I was. In the meantime, I suggest you check out Born This Way if you haven't already—it's a guaranteed smile waiting to happen.