LGBTQ Grief

As I sit here, there are bans on drag and anti-trans legislation being discussed, and being passed, in states across the US. I’m heart-broken for my LGBTQ brothers and sisters and for all of the beautiful drag performers who are at risk. I’m Canadian and nothing is perfect is here, this I know for sure. But I know that legislation pretending to “ban drag” is an attack on the human rights of all LGBTQ people in the US. Human rights that are enshrined in law. Human rights that must be respected. So what does this have to do with grief?

LGBTQ folks don’t get the same rights to grieve as others - when our partners die, people tell us, “well at least you weren’t married”. When our friends are killed as a hate crime, we don’t get the same respect at heterosexual people whose friends are murdered. When black trans women go missing, there is no 24/7 search for them. We are grieving these losses all the time, largely in silence.

In Ottawa, we have a community called the Queer Death Salon. Although I haven’t been yet, I am acutely aware of the need for such a space - a space where queer people can connect and talk about death, dying and grief safely and with care. These are rare spaces for us, as our human rights are still being trampled, our lives and families threatened.

I have two daughters who I am raising to be fiercely proud of their two moms, their family and to protect human rights everywhere. As a grief awareness advocate, I am compelled to connect these dots - from the perspective of grief awareness, we can understand ourselves as fully human, fully embodied people deserving of love and respect. It doesn’t matter what that body looks like. It is deserving of love, respect and protection, especially when the state comes for our rights.

I’m grieving the hateful anti-trans and anti-LGBTQ attacks in the US and all around the world. But if the LGBTQ community has shown anything over the last fifty years, it’s that ignorance in our communities may try to break us, but it never will.