As Pride Month comes to a close and America’s 250th birthday quickly approaches, I’ve been wondering what it means to be a queer American in 2026. Such a broad topic is difficult to tackle. How can I even begin to untangle the threads of pride and shame, love and hate, hope and despair, that make up the tapestry of queer America today? The more I try, the more knots I inevitably end up with.
Of course, we’re all aware of the hatred, prejudice, and downright ignorance that the 2SLGBTQIA+ community faces all across the country. Recent polls reveal that America’s support for same-sex marriage and gender-affirming care is trending in a downward direction. Unsurprisingly, this change in public opinion has resulted in a sharp increase in housing bias, workplace discrimination, and healthcare inequality. Without these essential safety nets, queer people are feeling more lost and hopeless than ever. This is abundantly clear in the Trevor Project’s study from late last year. The organization found that queer youth are increasingly likely to have anxiety, depression, and suicidal thoughts in the wake of such rampant conservatism and queerphobia.
It’s hardly surprising that queer youth are taking the brunt of the impact, especially given the landscape of the modern American classroom. In 2022, Florida’s “Don’t Say Gay” bill set a startling precedent in the US by largely forbidding the teaching of queerness in public elementary schools. North Carolina, Arkansas, Iowa, and Indiana all followed suit, in some cases expanding upon Florida’s prototype by banning the teaching of queerness all the way through 12th grade. Even some private colleges and universities have begun to attack Women’s, Gender, and Sexuality Studies departments by canceling classes, firing staff members, and cutting essential funding. This war on education has also resulted in a sharp rise in queer book bans and attacks on national monuments.
The writing on the wall has never been more plain to see. Queer people, queer history, and the queer lifestyle are all being forced back into the closet, leaving the future dangerously uncertain. When the final rainbow-colored crosswalk has been painted over, and the final Pride flag has been torn down, what will that mean for queer people? Will these conservative politicians finally get their wish? Will queerness in America finally cease to exist?
To this, I ask—could America even exist without queerness?
From its very founding, America has relied upon the indispensable voices of queer people. Baron Friedrich von Steuben, the Prussian war hero responsible for whipping the Continental Army into shape, served as an openly gay soldier during his time aiding George Washington and the other Founding Fathers. Other revolutionaries, such as Deborah Sampson, Cathay Williams, Anna Maria Lane, Mary Ludwig Hays, and Molly Corbin, disguised themselves as male soldiers to fight for the survival of their newborn nation. If that isn’t drag, then what is?
In addition to these war heroes, America owes a substantial debt to the many contributions of queer American artists. Masters of visual art like Andy Warhol, Keith Haring, and Jean-Michel Basquiat defined entire artistic movements with their unique perspectives and undeniable talent. Queer writers like James Baldwin, Walt Whitman, and Audre Lorde pushed the envelope of artistic expression by transgressing boundaries and social norms. And I couldn’t even begin to list all the many, many queer musicians, like Ma Rainey and Little Richard, who defined America’s sonic identity. Without such brilliant queer talents, American culture would not be nearly so rich as it is today.
Whether these queer Americans were firing cannons on the battlefield or splashing paint upon a canvas, they faced their fair share of prejudice, pushback, and adversity. Despite these obstacles, however, they persevered and delivered their message of resilience to their community, their country, and the broader world surrounding them. In these ways, these Americans are not so dissimilar to us. So, what else can we do but emulate them?
The bad news is that the odds are stacked against us. For the past 250 years, queer Americans have fought the same old fight, battling for basic decency, respect, and acceptance. The good news is that, more often than not, they’ve won. The fact that these historical names have endured so many years is a testament to the importance of queer people in our nation's history. Despite everything, their legacies live on. This is a victory worth celebrating. If our queer ancestors won against such insurmountable odds, who’s to say that we can’t, too?
So, what does it mean to be a queer American? The answer, in retrospect, seems quite simple. To be a queer American means to survive, even when the whole world bears down upon you. To be a queer American means to fight for your life, liberty, and the inalienable right to pursue your happiness. To be a queer American means to win.
Talk more soon,
Hunter
