Ask Michele: Am I queer enough?

By Michele Goldberg - Jun. 24, 2025
Michele-FYC
Courtesy: Michele Goldberg, Find Your Center

Q: Can I call myself queer? I’m not into PDA. I don’t wear pride gear. Sometimes I’m in relationships that don’t look queer from the outside. 

A: I’m so sorry the world has made you question yourself. Even within our community, peers can other us, leading us to question if we fit in or know ourselves at all. Let’s tease this apart.


What does queer even mean?

Queer is a broad, inclusive term for people whose gender identity, romantic orientation or sexuality falls outside heterosexual and cisgender norms. For many, it feels more open-ended or flexible than specific labels. It allows space for fluidity, questioning, evolving identity and solidarity across LGBTQIA+ communities. 

Queerness is not just about who you’re attracted to. It’s also about resisting conformity and disrupting binaries. And it’s the capacity for attraction, connection or self-identification, not a mandate to feel or pursue something continuously.

The term was widely used as a slur, but reclaiming it has become a way of challenging systems that marginalize us. 

Navigating visibility in a hostile climate

Our existence is political, whether we want it to be or not.

The rise in anti-trans legislation, renewed policing of identity and erosion of bodily autonomy aren’t abstract politics — they’re lived realities. When humans perceive threat, our nervous systems adapt: We fight, we flee, we freeze, we fawn.

Queer people don’t express or hide arbitrarily, but as survival strategies based on our perception of danger. Sometimes we reduce visibility for immediate protection. Or we get loud to show we will not shrink or be silenced by systemic intimidation. We “fight” to maintain our ground and our long-term right to exist. 

Credit: Mercedes Mehling

Are you still queer if…?

You’re not into PDA. You’re bi or pan but currently in a hetero-looking relationship. I’ve been there, and pan erasure is real. Bicultural exclusion can lead us to question our validity if who we happen to like right now doesn’t represent every single thing we’re open to liking. What if you don’t wear pronoun pins? You’re shy at Pride. You don’t announce your identity. Does that mean you’re not queer enough?

Of course not. You belong. As you are. Even when you’re uncertain — especially when you’re uncertain.

Your queerness isn’t just who you’re attracted to or your gender. It’s the way you challenge norms and resist systems of oppression, conformity and binaries. It’s the lens you move through life with, even if no one else can see it. 

You may not have experienced the greatest visibility or hardship relative to others in the queer community. That does not invalidate your identity or your right to claim it. But some who endured greater risk, pain or rejection, or lack the option to blend in, may feel hurt and protective of queer spaces. We can hold both: Acknowledge your privilege with humility and support those with greater challenges as a mark of solidarity.

While adapting our presentation in a hostile climate is natural and all expressions of queerness are welcome, it’s complicated when we feel pressure to present a certain way as a form of social advocacy. If our outward choices don’t align with our genuine preferences, styles, partner interests or senses of self, we can lose touch with our own authenticity. A queer woman might hesitate to date a cis man because it feels threatening to her identity or fails to promote our idea of queer community. 

Navigating the tension between personal truths and public expressions of queerness is part of the work. How do we stay true to ourselves?

The phases of being seen

Some of us go through a militant phase when we come out wearing every flag. We need the world to know. Later, that urgency can soften. We integrate. Our queerness feels like just one part, not the center of our identities. We no longer feel the need to explain, perform or justify. We exist, and that’s enough.

For others, it’s the reverse: starting quietly, becoming louder over time as we feel safe, as we advocate and as we embrace our individual temperaments. 

Quiet expression is not “graduated” queerness, and loudness isn’t immaturity. The evolution of visibility is personal, not hierarchical. We can go from exploratory to militant, disillusioned, integrated and quiet in repeat, non-sequential patterns. We shift depending on our safety, our surroundings or what the moment demands of us. We’re still queer through all of it.

If you’re a trans man who simply says, ‘I’m a man,’ that’s not hiding: That’s truth. You don’t owe anyone your history. But maybe your past matters to you — not as a confession or seeking validation, but as a lens and a way to connect. Maybe being AFAB (assigned female at birth) shaped how you experience power, empathy or connection. Perhaps saying ‘I’m trans’ isn’t about being visible, but whole. 

There’s no right way to disclose. Just the way that feels right to you.

The power and limits of language and labels

Language creates a paradox: Identity labels can free us or confine us, depending on how they’re used. When we choose them for ourselves, they can offer self-knowledge, connection and community. But when demanded or misused by others, they reduce us to something smaller than our full selves.

There’s a strange tension in naming who we are. Who wants to be boxed in? As if choosing a word is signing a contract with the world about who we’re allowed to be forever. Often, it’s less about understanding ourselves and more about making others comfortable. Labels can become shortcuts for other people to file us away, to feel like they “get” us.

Language also opens doors. For many of us, stumbling across a word like “queer,” “nonbinary” or “genderfluid” changes everything. Suddenly we see ourselves. Language can give shape to experiences we didn’t know anyone else had. It offers a shared code, a way to say, “You, too!”

Maybe the trick is to hold language lightly, to keep it only if it serves. Freedom is the space to choose what aligns with our authentic in-the-moment selves.

Our identities evolve. It’s completely valid for desires to change over time and for something that once felt right to no longer fit. In other words, there is no pressure to stay queer forever, nor is there a value judgment that you are superior or a more open, progressive person based on the nature of your desire. 

Credit: Ian Taylor

What community should feel like

Not every space that calls itself inclusive actually is. Here’s how you know a social context is good for you:

You’re not masking. You have access to your real tone, humor and opinions. People are curious about you. You feel seen. You don’t have to dim yourself. You don’t have to explain your identity. You’re not on the defensive. Your presence matters.

These aren’t luxuries. When we feel safe, we blossom. We should foster this in every space.

Belonging without proving

You don’t have to perform queerness to claim it. But we also have a responsibility to one another. Our queerness is personal, but our liberation is collective. We should support our shared mission of equality and acceptance. 

Whether that means attending a rally, calling out homophobia at work or checking in on a friend who’s struggling, we each get to decide what solidarity looks like in real time. And sometimes we face messy tensions, like realizing a certain political value aligns with a party that doesn’t affirm your right to exist. How do you hold that contradiction? How do you show up, even when you’re unsure?

There are no easy answers. Just honest questions and the willingness to keep asking.

So are you queer enough?

Yes. Even if you’re quiet. Even if you don’t fit the mold. Even if other queer people have made you feel like you don’t belong. You do.

Queerness is not a test; it’s a truth. You are already enough — exactly as you are.


This column provides general mental health insights. This advice is for informational/entertainment purposes only and does not constitute professional, personalized medical, psychological or therapeutic treatment. While we strive for accuracy and inclusion, our feedback may not account for all competing theories and research in the field.

Write in with your questions: bit.ly/AskaTherapistBW. And check Find Your Center Therapy’s blog for a deeper dive: findyourcentertherapy.com/blog

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