‘LGBT’ is Not a Synonym for ‘Gay’

Our Struggles and Our Liberation are Both Entirely Connected and Incredibly Unique

We all know that a person’s choice of words can be incredibly powerful.

In a moment, and with just a few syllables, someone can make us feel at ease, uncomfortable, welcome, or in danger. For decades, we’ve been fighting the government, our teachers, our neighbors, and our families to use proper language to describe us and our relationships — and we’ve made some really great progress.

It’s no longer considered strange for two men to refer to each other as husbands or two women wives (or partners, or spouses, or any other of the many words we’ve chosen to describe our relationships), and we’ve certainly made progress with the idea of using proper pronouns for folks and exploring entirely new ways of talking about gender. There are some areas, though, where perhaps we could work a little bit harder.

A few weeks ago I wrote about a report from the CDC that talked about self-harm and sucide among lesbian, gay, and bi youth. The study talked about the risk factors they face and suggested ways we can alleviate specific issues. If you read any of the comments on our Facebook page, though, you’ll have noticed that the majority of the folks were upset we didn’t include “T” in the acronym. This particular study, which was just one small part of a larger study, focused on sexual activity and risk factors among high school students, and not gender presentation, identity or expression. 

More recently, a friend of mine posted an invitation to a blood drive on his Facebook wall. A friend of his commented, “I hope that the LGBT community is one day able to donate. It’s horrible that we can’t!” But here’s the thing: The prohibition applies only to folks who were assigned male at birth who have sex with other folks who were assigned male at birth. Other folks in our community can donate blood without a problem.  

And this week, it was announced that a cisgenger, gay man will once again play a trans woman in a movie. But not only that, he reportedly said, “Any actor can play an LGBT role.” He continued, “You can play any role no matter what, whether that role is straight, or gay, or whatever.”

Now, I’ll grant that a straight actor can play gay and a gay actor can play straight — after all, embodying a character often means portraying emotions and desires different from the actor’s. But playing a different gender is an entirely different story.  Anne Hilt among others, responds to this better than I ever could.

All of these things, I think, are connected. We’ve (hello, HRC!) pushed the narrative that “LGBT” is a just a synonym for gay. We see it all the time — how often is a Pride celebration referred to simply as “gay Pride”? Yes, it’s shorthand, but it’s sloppy shorthand. By definition, LGBT and “gay” aren’t synonyms. Bisexual people, specifically, aren’t gay. Some trans people happen to be gay, and some are bi, and plenty of others are straight.  

There are times when we must come together as one community, without a doubt. Most obviously, we have the same enemies. The same folks who hate me for being gay hate my friends who are trans, and usually/probably for the same reasons. But the day-to-day challenges I face are pretty much nothing like those my trans friends face, and it’s damaging to both me and them to imply they’re the same. (While gay folks were worried about being able to get married, trans folks were fighting to simply stay alive, for example.)

When we use LGBT as a synonym for gay, we arrive at the point where a gay man thinks he can successfully portray a trans woman in a movie. Or that bisexual people aren’t actually bi or that all trans people are gay. We’ve even had teens coming out and labeling themselves as “LGBT.”

Don’t get me wrong, I absolutely love how varied and diverse our community is. I love how we really do represent a rainbow of all kinds of people, and I wouldn’t want it any other way. I also know that I’m at my best as an ally when I can recognize what privileges I have that others in our community don’t. It would be disingenuous for me to pretend that reality didn’t exist.

Our struggles and our liberation are both entirely connected and incredibly unique. Let’s embrace the times we’re fighting as one community and be the best cheerleaders and supporters we can be when we’re fighting our individual battles. 

Robbie Medwed is an Atlanta-based LGBT activist (he’s not “LGBT,” he’s an activist for the LGBT community) and educator. His column appears here weekly. Email him or follow him on Twitter @rjmedwed.