Queer joy

Every time I post something on this blog/IG page, I feel like I’m being unprofessional. At first, I thought it was because I am being kind of a little bit unprofessional: making posters where I replace the head of a famous deaf scholar with Ellen DeGeneres and claiming that this is the highlight of my life and it can only go downhill from here, adding memes to presentations, making jokes about myself and my research, luring straight people into the homosexual lifestyle… The list can go on and on and on and on. (Talking about myself this way probably also doesn't help.)

Last week I asked you in my IG stories if it is normal to struggle with taking your research seriously all the time or if I just have some serious problems. 82% of you answered “yes, my whole life is a joke”, including people who everyone looks up to and think “wow, they have made it, they totally know what they are doing” – comforting, right? And most of the people who voted for “Ine, you have a problem” messaged me to let me know they were just kidding – using this joke to deflect from having to reflect about how their own lives are a joke as well, I see you. And some of you messaged me to tell me that the answer was “both”. Guess who’s right?

Even after most of you confirming that it is okay to joke about your research, to your whole life being a joke, to be a joke yourself, I still feel unprofessional. I reflected and reflected, drank some wine and reflected some more, I drank some wine and drank some wine and drank some more wine and then I realised: there is no room for queer joy in academia.

What is queer joy? Let me tell you what queer joy is. Queer joy is waiting for the bus in a quiet street. Smiling at an older queer woman with bright pink and purple hair. Them recognising you are queer too and telling you “you look fabulous”. That is queer joy.

(Am I now wondering if she actually said “yes I know, I’m fabulous” instead of “you look fabulous”? Yes, because there is always room for queer anxiety – especially in academia.)

(The picture is some deaf queer joy at Edinburgh Pride two weeks ago.)

(Queer joy is also having a dog at Pride.)

(I call this writing style ‘literary parkour’, although ‘literary’ is a bit optimistic.)