Queer, There, and Everywhere

by Sarah Prager

  * * *

  By now it should not be a surprise that, like everywhere else, Latin America has a rich queer history. Also not a surprise: colonialism was a huge setback and is still a negative influence today. Around half of Caribbean nations enforce antisodomy laws still on the books from when the British penal code was imported in the 1500s. Belize became the first country in this region to strike down the antiquated law in 2016.

  Some of the indigenous peoples around Latin America were intolerant of homosexuality and gender nonconformity, while others were very accepting. Attitudes may have varied, but the arrival of Spaniards starting in the 1490s saw the mass slaughter of men across the region who seemed too feminine—an abomination, according to the new colonists.

  Countries from Mexico to Argentina started organizing for queer rights as early as the 1970s. Five Latin American countries legalized same-sex marriage between 2010 and 2016. Still, most of the continent’s nations don’t have laws that allow transgender people to legally transition from one gender to another.

  North America

  * * *

  Almost every Native nation across Canada and the United States (that’s dozens and dozens of peoples) once honored Two-Spirit people—those revered and respected for having both male and female spirits inside them. Then—you guessed it!—along came colonists. The American colonies had early laws against sodomy, and the homophobia grew from there and ran rampant across the continent for centuries.

  The United States really got their movement for queer legal rights going in the mid-1900s. That’s when the first groups formed and the first demonstrations took place: everything from a 1965 sit-in at a Philadelphia restaurant to a 1966 riot at a diner in San Francisco. The national turning point is considered the 1969 Stonewall Riot in New York City (check out Sylvia Rivera’s chapter for more on this), and nine years later in San Francisco the rainbow flag emerged as a queer symbol and spread from there.

  Then on a July day in 1981, a New York Times headline read: “Rare Cancer Seen in 41 Homosexuals.” The disease first became known as GRID (gay-related immune deficiency), and then as HIV (human immunodeficiency virus), the virus that causes AIDS (acquired immune deficiency syndrome). When it first took hold in San Francisco, no one knew what caused it, there was no test to find out if you had it, and there was no treatment if you did have it. It quickly spread worldwide through gay and bisexual men’s circles. In the United States, 270,000 people had died of AIDS by 1994. Entire communities were lost; neighborhoods disappeared. The death toll was so high because the government and pharmaceutical companies didn’t invest in treatment or prevention research. Activists made them pay attention with bold actions like “die-ins,” unveiling a huge memorial quilt on the National Mall in Washington, DC, and putting a giant condom over one senator’s house (yep). Today HIV remains a global pandemic that touches communities regardless of sexual orientation. Modern treatments mean that people who are HIV-positive can live long lives if they have access to medication; unfortunately, medication is very expensive for or unavailable to many.

  The AIDS crisis of the eighties and nineties sparked a new wave of in-your-face activism across many countries, especially in the United States. Concern over the global crisis reignited the fires of queer activism that had begun in the fifties and sixties. Into the 1990s, 2000s, and 2010s, advocacy efforts burned brighter and brighter; advancements achieved during this era were, in a word, awesome. In the United States, we went from zero rights to . . . a lot more than zero. Although there is no federal antidiscrimination law to date, queer victories in areas like employment nondiscrimination legislation have been hard-won with many activists giving up their freedom, safety, and even their lives for the cause. The twenty-first century has built a mountain of rights and communities unparalleled at any point since the founding of this country. The time you’re living in right now? Downright historic.

  . . . AND EVERYWHERE

  * * *

  Queer history is world history: the stories of every culture from every era. It is sometimes a tragic tale of persecution, other times the heroic triumph of love and pride over discrimination. It is also the story of innovation—the discovery of new ways to be alive and be human, of new contributions to global societies. These are the stories waiting for you now. Prepare to see history in a whole new (rainbow) light.

  ELAGABALUS

  203–222

  tl;dr The most scandalous teenage Roman emperor you’ve never heard of

  It was your average day at the stadium—togas, Olympic-style games, a decent amount of day-drinking—and Zoticus, an accomplished athlete, was busy kicking ass in crowd favorites like sprinting and wrestling. Suddenly, midcompetition, he was snatched away from the games by a band of thugs who’d been sent by the palace. Turns out Zoticus was being summoned by the emperor, Elagabalus, who was always on the lookout for beautiful men. Zoticus was rumored to be *ahem* well-endowed, and the emperor wanted to meet him.

  Upon arriving at the palace, Zoticus was adorned with garlands and immediately given a coveted position as a cubicularius—a kind of butler in the emperor’s private quarters. When he was presented to the ruler who had beckoned him, Zoticus saluted: “My Lord Emperor, hail!”

  Lengthening her neck in a feminine pose, Elagabalus shot a lustful look at Zoticus and said, “Call me not Lord, for I am a lady.”

  Keeping Up with the Emperor

  * * *

  Fourteen-year-old Elagabalus shocked Rome when she arrived from Syria, with her country’s army at her back, to take the throne. Her power-hungry mother claimed Elagabalus had a right to rule as the illegitimate offspring of a previous emperor. But while Rome’s teenage conqueror was very intent on ruling, she was equally intent on living as the woman she was on the inside—even though she had been raised as a boy. (While Elagabalus was not referred to with female pronouns in her time, we’ve decided to use them here because of evidence of her gender identity, such as calling herself a lady.) Despite her feminine dress and affectations, no one else saw Elagabalus as a woman, just a very eccentric, strange young man. Which was one of the main things the Roman government and public didn’t respect about her. A man dressing as a woman? The male emperor dressing as a woman? Not. Acceptable.

  It was bad enough that Elagabalus was a foreigner with strange traditions and gods, but it was even worse that she wasn’t willing to conform to traditional Roman ways or beliefs. Her advisers had told her all along that it would be best to wear the typical male attire of a toga so she wouldn’t shock her new subjects. Nope! Instead, before even arriving from Syria, Elagabalus had sent a huge portrait of herself in gaudy robes to hang in the senate so the public could get used to how she was going to dress. Her tastes were her tastes: while Roman clothing was made of plain wool, Elagabalus wore only the finest silk. Purple and gold robes accented by necklaces and bangles and nothing less than a glittering tiara on her head were her style.

  It’s no surprise that the new emperor soon had a reputation for extravagance. She hosted elaborate banquets, serving delicacies like camel heels, peacock tongues, and flamingo brains. Even the dogs got goose livers. She had urinals made of onyx, canals filled with wine, and a gold statue of herself erected. The Romans had never seen an emperor like this before.

  Real Housewife of Rome

  * * *

  Elagabalus married five women and two men (including Zoticus) during her almost four years as emperor. You read that right: seven people in less than four years. And that doesn’t even begin to account for the number of affairs and hookups she had. And she was, if you forgot, a teenager while all this was happening.

  Even though Elagabalus recognized herself as a woman, her marriages to men were considered same-sex. Rome had seen same-sex marriage before, even with former emperors, but it was far from common. And males sleeping with males and loving males was accepted, though by Elagabalus’s time the practice was falling out of favor. But soon Christianity would rise as the dominant ideology, compl
etely reversing Rome’s tolerant stance on bisexuality.

  Fortunately, Elagabalus didn’t hold back an ounce of her fabulousness just because it wasn’t popular. As Roman leaders, soldiers, and common people freaked out over her feminine ways, she kept on keepin’ on as a normal Roman woman would: She plucked her facial hair, wore makeup, spoke in a high voice, wore women’s clothing, and spun wool. She danced everywhere (while walking, while giving speeches, while performing animal sacrifices), not caring that dancing was frowned upon by the Roman elite. It’s safe to say Elagabalus didn’t really give a flying discus about pleasing the elite—or anyone else, for that matter.

  The Bachelorette: Emperor Edition

  * * *

  The day Zoticus arrived at court, Elagabalus’s lover at the time, Hierocles, found himself very jealous. So he slipped a drug into Zoticus’s drink that rendered him *ahem ahem* unable to perform. Useless to Elagabalus in this state, Zoticus was stripped of his new honors almost as fast as they were given to him, and then he was thrown out of the palace. But the exile didn’t last: eventually Elagabalus and Zoticus would marry in a public ceremony. Never mind that Elagabalus already called herself the wife of Hierocles, too!

  Married or not, Elagabalus freely pursued the physical pleasure she wanted. She enjoyed setting up the palace to look like a brothel and playing the part of a concubine. She’d stand naked by the door, soliciting anyone who walked by. Some men who worked at the palace were instructed to take the bait and follow her into the bedroom as customers. As such, men were promoted within the court often based solely on their, um, size.

  Elagabalus wanted to go a step further: she also offered a huge financial reward to any doctor who would give her surgery to create her own vagina. The Romans already thought it was weird she was circumcised, and rumors about other possible surgeries flew wildly—though she never actually had them. No doctor ever came forward with the solution she sought.

  Plot Twist

  * * *

  Three years and nine months after Elagabalus had taken power at the age of fourteen, her own guards couldn’t stand for all this scandal any longer. They turned on Elagabalus and killed her and those loyal to her, including Hierocles. The bodies of Elagabalus and her mother were dumped in a sewer that flowed to the Tiber River. A dazzling flame had been snuffed out for shining too brightly.

  Elagabalus’s short rule has largely been forgotten, in part because she hardly spent any time on actual politics and didn’t leave a legacy of long-lasting reforms. But there’s more to a reign than that: Elagabalus showed the Romans how fierce queerness could really be in the final years before Christianity took hold around the world. That’s the queer spirit: live your life full out as yourself, no matter what others think.

  JEANNE D’ARC

  AKA JOAN OF ARC

  1412–1431

  tl;dr A cross-dressing teenager listens to the voices in her head . . . and liberates France

  The white light around Jeanne was blinding, and she knew the voices would soon follow.

  These hushed voices had been coming to her ever since she was thirteen and just your average illiterate French peasant girl. The first time, she’d been terrified: it was a summer’s day in her father’s garden when all of a sudden the voice of Saint Michael boomed from somewhere off to Jeanne’s right, telling her to lead a good life and that God would be with her. Now, after three years of similar saintly visitations, she wasn’t so frightened anymore.

  Except this time, the message was different. This time, as the voices began buzzing, the saints were giving her a mission she couldn’t refuse.

  Leaving Home

  * * *

  Jeanne was born and raised in the little town of Domrémy, an unremarkable farming community where life had been difficult because of the Hundred Years’ War between England and France for the past, well, nearly hundred years. Besides farming, everyone’s favorite hobby in Domrémy was being a devout Christian; Jeanne spent her weeks confessing and going to mass. And then, after she became a teenager, also tuning in to the voices that visited her. Sometimes it would be Saint Catherine, other times Saint Margaret, but they always came to her when she was alone. She began pulling back from her friends and spending more and more time at the secluded little chapel where she liked to pray and listen.

  At sixteen, Jeanne was an old maid by fifteenth-century standards, and her parents soon arranged an engagement for her. Engagements back then were legal contracts, and your parents made it official on your behalf. But Jeanne wasn’t having it. Inspired by the directives of the saints, she swore a vow of chastity and declared that marriage just wasn’t for her. When word got out that Jeanne wasn’t about to leap for joy down the aisle, the fiancé’s family sued her family over breach of contract. That seemed like a good time to get out of town, and the voices had a plan for Jeanne to do just that.

  For weeks, the voices had been telling Jeanne to go help the dauphin, the rightful heir to the throne, claim his title and be crowned King Charles VII of France so that the French could beat the English and finally be free from their rule. The voices had also been giving Jeanne some specific instructions to wear men’s clothing while she did it. Yes, Jeanne claimed the Lord’s saints told her to go against Deuteronomy 22:5, which says “a woman must not wear men’s clothing, nor a man wear women’s clothing, for the Lord your God detests anyone who does this.” The voices didn’t let up; they told Jeanne she must accomplish what they asked her to do, specifically to free the city of Orléans. So she ditched her skirt, put on men’s clothes (not actually passing for a man), and set out with a band of six men (including her own personal chaplain) to tell Charles of her mission.

  Mockingjay

  * * *

  When Jeanne arrived at the court at Chinon, Charles interrogated the inexperienced, cross-dressing teenager for three weeks and ultimately determined she had no ulterior motives. She was clearly fully committed to her cause and said she was just following orders . . . from a bunch of voices only she could hear. He figured he had nothing to lose by giving her a shot.

  Jeanne’s first test on the battlefield came at the city of Orléans, which had been under siege for six months. The English had taken control and the French people were suffering. But after a six-month stalemate that neither side could break, Jeanne liberated the city in just four days. How? Well, after the English laughed off Jeanne’s warnings that she would attack and beat them if they didn’t surrender, she ordered her troops into battle. For hours the French soldiers weren’t able to make any progress. Then it got worse: as the sun began to sink, they saw Jeanne get hit with an arrow between her shoulder and neck. After watching their leader fall, the French prepared to call for retreat. Jeanne wouldn’t let them. With the arrow still jutting from her body, she got up, held her flag high, and encouraged her troops to go on, and the French were finally able to overwhelm the English. But instead of rejoicing in her victory, Jeanne cried for the souls of all who were killed on both sides of the conflict. She’d never experienced anything like battle back in Domrémy and was forced to adjust quickly to life as a military leader.

  News of this miracle traveled fast, inspiring the French people. Jeanne went on a winning streak, kicking the English out of France like nobody’s business. After generations of war, the tide was turning. People cried just to catch a glimpse of her and be in her presence. Whenever Jeanne approached an occupied area, the English knew that when she gave them the option to surrender or be killed, it wasn’t an empty threat. In town after town, the English waved the white flag without putting up a fight.

  Winning on the battlefield was great, but Jeanne’s mission had always had two parts, and now it was time to see Charles ascend to the throne. She and her army led the way to the city of Reims, where Charles would be crowned. At the coronation, Jeanne knelt before the new king, said “God’s will is done,” and wept.

  With Jeanne’s divine mission complete, the voices abruptly stopped. Only, she still wanted to keep going�
�on her own. Even without military support from Charles (or God), she kept trying to win back more land for France. It didn’t go so well, and her winning streak soon ended. Charles didn’t need her anymore. Her magnificent moment in the sun had passed. Now she was just a cross-dressing heretic starting fights she couldn’t win. She was ultimately captured at Compiègne and sold to the English.

  Girl on Fire

  * * *

  A year later Jeanne was put on trial at Rouen by a few dozen clerics for several crimes, including heresy and cross-dressing. She continued to wear men’s clothing while imprisoned, which deeply disturbed her judges. Jeanne begged for permission to continue observing her faith, and was told she could attend mass as long as she wore women’s clothes when she went. She said that just wasn’t “in her.”

  After five months of a biased trial marked by endless questioning, serious illness, near starvation, and threats of rape and torture, Jeanne was sentenced to death. Despite staying strong and devout throughout her many ordeals, nineteen-year-old Jeanne finally broke. She desperately recanted everything and even signed a document saying the voices and all the rest had been a lie. She swore she’d never wear men’s clothing again if only they showed her mercy. . . .

  And they did: Jeanne was sentenced to life in prison instead of being burned at the stake. Later that day, she put on a dress for the first time in more than three years.

  That’s when the voices came back, and their message wasn’t the revelation Jeanne had hoped for. She might have saved her own life, they told her, but Jeanne had damned her soul by disobeying their orders. She shouldn’t have rebuked them.