Queer Coding: Using Beauty to Foster Identity

Queer

Coding:

Using Beauty to Foster Identity

WRITING

Alexandra Nieto

MODELING

Alexandra Nieto Chloe Strandwold

PHOTOGRAPHY Serena Buscarello

DESIGN

Kimmy Curry in college. I try not to count the times before that when the annunciation of my queerness came stumbling out of me with alcohol and tears. my freshman dorm, forever resonates with me. Surrounded by then strangers who I met only two days before, this guy jokingly singled me out.

“Are you gay? You have that whole bisexual haircut thing going on...”

I was taken aback, not with embarrassment or anger, but with relief. The weight of my most shameful secret, carried around with me my whole life, had suddenly been lifted. A majority of that weight came from the expectation of coming out. There’s this notion that coming out has to be a big deal, and the media tends to blow this out of proportion. Gay movies focus solely on this aspect of the queer experience. Hollywood glamorizes something so trivial that every queer times. It made the idea of “coming out” with a grandiose announcement in front of a large group so unattractive to me — so much pressure was put on just one moment.

But something as simple as my haircut told my I was. I was able to come out with just my appearance.

I feel like everyone goes through an identity shift seemingly endless opportunity of freedom for self-discovery. Away from the town you’ve grown up in your entire life, you break away from the expectations of the person you’re supposed to be. You are no longer restrained by the box you’ve been trapped in.

seen for who I was.

Given this space, I was able to play with my own broadening my music taste, I ventured out of the norm. I started to throw myself into anything that seemed “gay.” I began to pick up thrifting and crocheting, and I even went to a Girl in Red concert. I wanted to surround myself with other people who were like me. But while surrounded by other gay people, both within my friend group and in Boston itself, I felt a disconnect. Other queer people seemed so secure in their own identity, mainly by appearance. I felt like you could spot someone’s queerness from afar, simply by how they dressed. Just by presenting themselves a certain way, they were able to share their story. I was envious of the comfort they possessed in their own identity.

My own appearance went through a small and muted, knit sweaters. I began experimenting and layering pieces. While my appearance

I would look at myself in the mirror and feel think that this was not the image of my genuine self. All throughout my teenage years, especially during the summer before college, I had this become this fully realized, openly gay version of myself. The version of self that was hidden away for the light of day. I was confused. Not confused over my sexuality, but my place in the community. My attraction to women was undeniable, but I still felt like I had to prove it. After only being in relationships with men, I started to feel like I was trapped within the “straight” label. I was going through a battle with internalized homophobia. I felt like an imposter to the community, like I was not “gay enough.” I had this perception that dressing “gay” would mean never truly exposed to gay role models in which I could see myself.

But during quarantine, I no longer faced the pressure of proving my sexuality. Without an audience to put on a performance for, I was able to discover a look of my own that merged my sense of self and my sexuality. While staying at home, I need to prove myself to other people.

I spent a majority of my quarantine days scrolling with content creators I’ve never seen. While broadening my feed, it showed me that there’s aesthetics, from butch lesbians with an edgy dresses, I was shown a platform on which queer

After being exposed to styles from the internet, I was able to pick and choose aspects of gay culture and fashion that meshed with my own personality. I was drawn to the phenomenon of “gay” earrings. The trend of putting small trinkets such as miniature dinosaurs or rubber duckies on earring hooks seemed delightfully ridiculous to me. I incorporated this campy accessory into my wardrobe. My most prized possession in my earring collection is a pair of gold wire earrings in the silhouette of a naked woman — what could be gayer than walking around with boobs dangling from your ears? Another aspect of queer beauty I integrated was bold makeup looks. My day-to-day makeup look was never the same. One day I could be trying out a geometric eyeliner look and the other I would have brightly colored eyeshadow on with a simple white liner. Through experimenting with eye makeup looks, I became more comfortable with my application skills and my own self-image.

With this comfort in my new look, I began branching out with my fashion choices. I can now khaki pants or a chunky sweater with an eccentric pattern. A staple in my wardrobe became a thin turtleneck for layering. Between my platform Doc Martens boots, pierced nose, and pink hair, I no longer felt the pressure of coming out because my appearance did it for me.

Fashion trends and style are an unspoken language of the LGBTQ community. While there is dress, there is something comforting about the way my appearance could communicate to someone else that we share something in common. By “dressing gay” and queer coding my style, I am not only coming to terms with my own sexuality, but signaling my place in the community.

My style is not determined by my sexuality. My identity is not determined by my sexuality. Through my discovery of self, I have been able to accept my sexuality and role in the LGBTQ community. I incorporate queer fashion trends into my own look not to convince others, or even myself, that comfort and security in my own identity.