A Gay Teen’s Guide to the Modern Queer Alphabet

Image of two LGBTQ+ flags from Monstera Production
Image of two LGBTQ+ flags from Monstera Production

If you’re American, you know us as LGBTQ+. 

If you’re an ally, you call us LGBTQIA+.

If you’re young and queer (or Canadian), by now you might’ve heard of LGBTQ2SI+.

But the holy grail is reserved only for the wokest of the woke: 2SLGBTQQIPAA+.

Depending on who you ask, today’s LBGTQ acronym contains anywhere from three to six sexual orientations, one to seven umbrella terms, and one to three gender identities. It might contain two Qs or two As; it might be five characters or it might be eleven. And all too often, it resembles a WiFi password or angry keyboard smash rather than a community label. 

As a gay teen in high school, don’t worry, I’ve heard all your questions about the acronym before. 

“Obviously, no offense, but why do you have so many letters?” 

“Why should learning all these new labels be my problem?”

“Can’t we have just one definition?”

I’ve got you. Learning the modern queer alphabet is easy as L, G, B. 

Let’s start with the basics. You likely already know that “L” stands for lesbian, “G” for gay, etc. But pause for a moment. What is a lesbian? It’s not a ridiculous question. Sure, a lesbian could be a woman attracted to other women… But keep going. Lesbians can be non-binary or bisexual with a female preference, and, of course, be “lesromantics” who aren’t sexually attracted to women at all. All of the above are correct.

Admittedly, that idea may be a little hard to grasp, so let’s switch to something easier: “I” for “intersex.” It’s a biological term, so don’t worry; this letter is a matter of cold, hard facts. Intersex just refers to a small group born with a combination of male and female traits. Though “intersex” is included in the acronym, don’t assume all intersex people are LGBTQ. For a variety of reasons, some don’t wish to associate with the community. 

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For the sake of simplicity, we’re going to skirt past “B” and “P” (bisexual and pansexual are still bickering over what exactly makes them different), skip over “A” (asexuality is a whole other conversation, and no, it’s not just being single), and make our final stop with “Q”—which hopefully will clear up any lingering confusion. 

Queer. To today’s youth, it’s a word that hardly bears the traces of its past as a homophobic slur. It’s become a common label for the new generation, used both by those whose labels don’t fit into the acronym and those who perceive labels as restrictive. At first, “Q” was just another letter of LGBTQ—practically interchangeable. But today, the word has taken on a life of its own.

The LGBTQ movement began as a fight for equal rights. Queer may be a movement, sure, but it has neither clear demands nor a clear strategy. The LGBTQ movement was successful in large part because it subverted one norm at a time. Gay men are men who like men, not women. Transgender people go from boy to girl or girl to boy. Each letter in the original acronym simply tweaked what was already socially acceptable. Two genders, two partners, yes-and-no binaries.

Queer, on the other hand, has no such limitations. It’s tinged with the language of academia, and its logical reasoning sounds like that of a precocious child who won’t stop asking, “But why?” The questions start out sensibly, but then they devolve. For instance:

“Why are girls girls?” Because they identify with feminine traits. 

“Why are certain things feminine?” Well…because they are common among women. 

“Why are they common among women?” A variety of factors, including long-term effects of patriarchy. 

“Isn’t patriarchy bad?” Yes, but—

“So femininity is just a construct put on us by men?” I think there’s more nuance than that—

“I’m done with gender!”

On its face, queer should simply represent the entirety of minority sexuality and gender, including those that don’t fit neatly in the acronym. But in reality, it’s increasingly associated with the philosophy that gender, sexuality, and identity are fluid. 

Understandably, this idea is scary to lots of LGBTQ people. “Queer” is potentially eroding societal acceptance they began fighting for long ago. They won equal legal rights by promising society they weren’t so different from anyone else. Not to mention, current political realities make it a risky moment to claim that every person is an unknowing victim of an outrageously discriminatory society.

An elongated acronym is a sort of compromise. It offers more visibility, but only for groups that still follow the original rules: fixed genders, fixed sexualities, fixed identities. 

Meanwhile, queer on its own continues to be completely uncompromising. There is a reason the elongated acronyms and new labels have become the subject of such ridicule, and why each new niche pride flag is met with scrutiny. It can feel like queer ideology seeks to tear down things that make people feel grounded for the benefit of a minority. It’s only natural for people to become defensive and irritable when they adhere to a system that seems to change on a whim.

Yes, a “queer ideology” is undeniably radical; there is no denying that. But it doesn’t have to be. I think of queer as an evolution from the LGBTQ acronym of the past. The end goal of the past generation was winning legal and social equality for lesbians, gays, bisexuals, and transgender people. The end goal of mine is getting people to think critically about how and why they see their own gender and sexuality. 

Some of our conclusions may seem like nonsensical shots in the dark. It’s a serious problem that our responses are usually a whole bunch of labels or that we push a narrative of constant oppression. That worldview implies that all our identities are inherently tainted–and that isn’t what pride or being queer is about at all. It’s about recognizing what actually makes us happy and fulfilled and why. 

So to anyone tired of the letters, the names, or the woke gay agenda, as a young person, I know not everything we say makes sense. That should be okay. These labels and ideas come so fast sometimes they feel like just another Gen Z microtrend. But it would serve us well to remember that the ultra-woke queer people we poke fun at are, for the most part, very young people like me.

Many of us are not yet old enough to vote, let alone make a stand on Capitol Hill or make a significant impact on mainstream media. This generation of queer people may be at the fringes today, but it’s almost inevitable that we’ll be at the forefront of tomorrow. 

There’s still a lot of work we have to do in the meantime. In the interim, don’t stress over memorizing the label, letters, or identities. Simply wait until the next time a young person comes along and starts talking about something you don’t understand. Then summon your youthful idealism, and play our questioning game. Try to ask, “but why?” It may actually be worth your while.

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