What do I mean by "queer lens"?
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Queer is a word with lots of jobs. It’s a useful umbrella term roughly synonymous with LGBTQIA+; it can mean peculiar, odd, outside the ordinary; it has been and still can be used as a violent, hateful slur. And it can also be a verb. It’s that sense of an action, drawing from queer theory and the lived experiences of people whose gender and sexuality don’t fit into mainstream cultural narratives, that I’m really talking about here.
When we queer something, we consider it in a way that troubles it, shakes it up. Shakes us up! A queer lens is a tool for editing with playful curiosity and deep empathy.
Queering a text—or queering an editorial approach—can help make decisions and values visible. We are curious about assumptions and what work they’re doing, and we hold onto a big sense of possibilities beyond the “normal.” Are any assumptions that might do unintentional harm sneaking in? What might different kinds of people with different life experiences feel and think when they encounter this line, this image, this plot point, this phrase? Are there ideas and words to embrace, change, discard, take seriously, and/or play with here?
For me, a queer editorial approach involves knowing the “rules”—genre conventions, grammar and usage as written up in authoritative-sounding reference books—but also knowing they’re made up. That they’re tied up with structures of power and privilege. And that they can change, they can be played with, they’re not the limits of human communication and delight.
Importantly, all that philosophical-sounding stuff grows out of, and always leads back to, simply centering queer lives. It makes space for the nuanced and wonderful realities of queer communities, identities, families, pleasure, love, and joy.
If that connects with you, I hope we can work together soon!
When we queer something, we consider it in a way that troubles it, shakes it up. Shakes us up! A queer lens is a tool for editing with playful curiosity and deep empathy.
Queering a text—or queering an editorial approach—can help make decisions and values visible. We are curious about assumptions and what work they’re doing, and we hold onto a big sense of possibilities beyond the “normal.” Are any assumptions that might do unintentional harm sneaking in? What might different kinds of people with different life experiences feel and think when they encounter this line, this image, this plot point, this phrase? Are there ideas and words to embrace, change, discard, take seriously, and/or play with here?
For me, a queer editorial approach involves knowing the “rules”—genre conventions, grammar and usage as written up in authoritative-sounding reference books—but also knowing they’re made up. That they’re tied up with structures of power and privilege. And that they can change, they can be played with, they’re not the limits of human communication and delight.
Importantly, all that philosophical-sounding stuff grows out of, and always leads back to, simply centering queer lives. It makes space for the nuanced and wonderful realities of queer communities, identities, families, pleasure, love, and joy.
If that connects with you, I hope we can work together soon!
