What’s happening in the world should be a reminder of why it’s so important for 2SLGBTQI+ people and their allies to know their queer history…
By Paul Gallant
I’ve always been haunted by a story I read more than 15 years ago, about how young Cambodians doubted their elders’ experiences of the Khmer Rouge regime’s violence from 1975 to 1979. A survey suggested that four out of five members of the young generation knew little or nothing about their country’s “killing fields,” in which, during that four-year period, 1.7 million Cambodians died from starvation, disease, torture or execution. And yet, at the time of the story I read and of the survey, that violence had happened just 30 years earlier.
The news media documented the horror in Cambodia as it was happening, which wasn’t the case with 2SLGBTQI+ history. Sure, we know about the Greeks, going back to the 8th century BC, and the erotic carvings on India’s Khajuraho temples, which date back to the 11th century CE, and about Stonewall in 1969 and much of what’s happened since then. But for big chunks of humanity’s time on Earth, queerness was suppressed and therefore shrouded in secrecy. What we are able to know for sure is spotty.
Making it even tougher is the fact that so much of 2SLGBTQI+ life is ephemeral: performances (particularly drag), private parties, discreetly welcoming social venues, unmarked places where we surreptitiously meet one another, the spots where fleeting sexual encounters happen. Until the late 20th century, mainstream media and governments only cared about us enough to oppress and demonize us. A lot of what we know about ourselves before the 1950s comes from arrest reports.
In this era, where outrage-fuelled trolling drowns out the facts, telling our stories and sharing our history matters more than ever. Our future depends on it, because our future is shaped by what people in power (including ourselves) believe about us. You can argue that the internet is overflowing with 2SLGBTQI+ stories from the past, but that body of knowledge is only surfaced for those who go looking for it, who actively engage with search and AI to find out more. In order for information about 2SLGBTQI+ history to do its job, it must be delivered into the minds of the incurious.
Organizations in various corners of the world have dedicated themselves to preserving this history. Some are better than others at getting their collections in front of the public. Sometimes that’s by bringing what they have directly to the public, while in other cases it’s academic researchers and other writers and creators who are mining these collections and bringing what they find to a wider public.
Canada’s national 2SLGBTQI+ archives, Toronto-based The Arquives, is the largest independent 2SLGBTQI+ archives in the world, with a history going back to 1973. Though much of their collection is accessible only to serious researchers, they’ve increased their online presence over the last few years. In 2023, they had 12,000 people access their online collections and reached more than 300,000 people through social media, according to their annual report.
Their digital exhibitions include a spotlight on the We Demand March of August 1971, the first recorded political action taken by 2SLGBTQI+ activists in Canada, held on the second anniversary of the passing of Bill C-150, which decriminalized homosexual acts in Canada between men over the age of consent. Knowing about the march reminds us that even when governments change policies, injustices don’t instantly go away. The Arquives’ online Genderqueer in Canada exhibition shows that, though the term “genderqueer” is modern, the idea of refusing conventional notions of gender and sexuality is a very old one.
Along with digital collections, San Francisco’s GLBT Historical Society, founded in 1985, has a museum in the Gay Village of the Castro, which features permanent and temporary exhibitions that anyone can stroll into for the price of admission. Last year the organization spent US$11.6 million to buy a new building, also in the Castro, that will eventually become the museum’s permanent home. (It will probably be a few years before the museum moves into the new space.)
“History matters,” says Rafael Mandelman, the openly gay man who is president of the San Francisco Board of Supervisors. “Ensuring we have a world-class museum in the Castro, a neighbourhood that has been at the forefront of the LGBTQ+ rights movement, ensures that the stories of our struggles and victories remain accessible and inspiring.”
Berlin’s Schwules Museum was also founded in 1985, and also showcases engaging special exhibitions that attract patrons who are curious about how the 2SLGBTQI+ past informs our present. Its exhibitions, usually four at a time, probably have more sass than those at other institutions. This spring’s “With Legs Wide Open – A Whore’s Ride Through History” centres the experiences of sex workers. Originally founded as a home for the history of gay men, this museum has over the years broadened its focus to queer ideas of sexual or gender identities that are meant to challenge heterosexual dominance and binary gender norms, as well as all forms of discrimination and exclusion.
Not all these institutions have such long histories themselves. Queer Britain, the UK’s first and only LGBTQ+ museum, opened the doors of its physical space in 2022, four years after the idea was announced. By May 2024, more than 80,000 visitors had passed through those doors, though the organization is still looking for its “forever home.”
Yes, real estate is a key factor in the success of an institution dedicated to preserving history. Documents, books, newspapers, magazines and artifacts like pins, banners and, at Queer Britain, the actual door of the jail cell of Oscar Wilde when he was in prison for gross indecency from 1895 to 1897 – effectively for being gay – well, they all take up space. The advantage of physical things is that they’re harder to tamper with than digital things, and so are more resistant to manipulation and misinformation. But, then again, it takes effort to preserve them.
Of course, real estate is not absolutely necessary to tweak people’s imaginations and thirst for knowledge. Colombia’s Museo Q does not have a permanent headquarters, but has launched projects that have been digital, built around community gatherings, published on paper and hosted by other organizations, all of which have centred marginalized queer voices and surfaced collective memories. Most of what’s been gathered by South Africa’s Gay and Lesbian Memory in Action (GALA), which has collections going back to the 1940s, can’t be accessed by the public, but it makes resources available at a reading library on its premises, as well as through events and social media.
Still, so much of this queer history is only going to fall into the hands of the curious and queer. Only the most enticing and central storefronts will lure the apathetic and the antipathetic. That’s why it’s important for 2SLGBTQI+ people and their allies to absorb this history themselves; friendly, knowledgeable, helpful human beings are the best publicists we have.
PAUL GALLANT is a Toronto-based writer and editor who writes about travel, innovation, city building, social issues (particularly LGBT issues) and business for a variety of national and international publications. He’s done time as lead editor at the loop magazine in Vancouver as well as Xtra and fab in Toronto. His debut novel, Still More Stubborn Stars, published by Acorn Press, is out now.
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