Phase 2: Original
Op-Ed: Queer Authors and the Legacy of their Masks
It is 1836. There is an author who lives by himself in a small house in Fyn. His beloved is to be wed soon, and he is truly devastated. Despite his numerous letters over nearly a decade’s worth of time, his feelings remained unreciprocated. To him, life is devoid of all meaning- there’s no use to keep going on. He grieves this heavy loss, but he cannot share this grief- not to his family, not to his friends. He will be persecuted for his grief, and he will be killed.
And so he writes.
He writes of a little mermaid and a prince, and her love for him that shines brighter than the sun itself. He writes, and this grief festers, changes him, and changes the world in turn.
It is 1836. There is an author, and he loves a man with a passion he can never share.
An author’s life is certain to impact their works- there’s no way that their views and opinions do not seep through creative pieces. An author who was raised in Malaysia would have a much more different perspective on a story than an author who was raised in Switzerland. Even when given the same prompt, their personal influence will determine what path their stories will travel. Analyzing these works may lead to a deeper understanding of the author and what idea they were intending to convey from the beginning. No two people are alike in their lives, and so, no two works are alike.
In this day and age, it’s not that difficult to do research on an author’s life. In fact, most paper copies tend to have a blurb about them on the inside cover. It’s much harder to do research on an author if they were born centuries prior- or if they had been masquerading their entire public life as another person. This isn’t the case of a copycat or a fraud, however. There have been many queer authors that had to hide their feelings and in turn, their true lives, out of fear they would be persecuted and-or killed. Their true lives have only revealed themselves through letters and eyewitness accounts after their deaths, for declaring yourself as someone ‘other’ would result in something far worse than public scrutiny.
There is something tragic about having to hide who you are for your entire life. Even more, masquerading whilst knowing you would be hated if you ever revealed yourself. Masking is defined as “hiding (one’s) authentic self in an effort to gain greater social acceptance”, and was unfortunately common in the past, and even more common now. The importance of history is quite clear; to understand development and changes over time, and to see how these changes impact the lives of people today. I’ve always been interested in queer history, and always wanted to know more about it; voices that have been suppressed, silenced, and excluded from history, those who were made an example of, those disgraced for their identities. The absence of queer figures in history might give some people an implication that homosexuality has appeared just recently, but that is far from the case. Stephen Carlick, an editor for Penguin House, mentions that “Homosexual romance, in Greek culture, was worthy of veneration,” In Ancient Greek culture, love was flexible- love had no limitations or restrictions, and was seen as a way to build closer bonds with those around you. But with the rise and fall of cities, the natural progression of time, and the overwhelmingly “heteronormative scholarship of the last few centuries”, queer stories and the lives of their authors have been steadily erased from literary history. There have been numerous mistranslations, misremembering, and hopeful ‘interpretations’ of queer works that do not remain truthful to itself. The Renaissance period questioned and rejected queer relationships, and the Age of Enlightenment brought to fruition the complete rejection of queer lives. Queer relationships were punished then, and continued to be punished even now.
Several popular authors- perhaps even ones you might have heard of before -were revealed to be queer past their deaths. Oscar Wilde, Virginia Woolf, and Hans Christian Andersen were all authors who refused to publicly disclose if they were queer or not, most likely out of fear of persecution and societal rejection. It would not only be the end of their careers, but of their livelihoods that they had worked so hard to curate. It seems as if they had no choice in their decision- but as analysts and readers today examine their works and steadily of their past, it brings new ideas, new interpretations to the table. There is just something so raw about a queer author portraying their love for another in the form of a heterosexual relationship- ‘normal’, clear, and socially accepted. It feels stronger, unmasking pure, human love and grief behind a mask that was made for society’s standards.
Society stifling queer authors’ and forcing them to remain hidden from history isn’t the only thing that stifles the understanding of queer history, however. It’s the countless speculation that follows when they’re ambiguous. Even after death, the identities of members of the queer community are subjected to debate. Sappho, an ancient Greek poet, has had her sexuality widely debated over. “A mistranslation by one of her early translators…characterized a lover in a poem as male, lead to her heterosexualisastion for the following two centuries.” It’s devastating that a discussion of her identity takes on far more importance than her works. But queer lives are just the same as any other lives. That simplicity in their personal lives is overshadowed by the fear of being “othered”. With more openness and acceptance for queer authors, their identity becomes less of a spectacle, like with Sappho, but more of a crutch used to analyze and understand the work and what the author wants the readers to understand.
And there is, of course, representation. Representation that is so clearly important to so many queer young adults. It shows them that they are not alone in their feelings , and can strive to these lengths that they might never have thought of. What if the author was able to write with their true perspective, their true feelings- with no hindrance or alteration? Would a piece feel stronger, more driven with purpose, writing for the sole purpose of writing, without fear of being ‘found out’?
Knowledge is complicated, and it always has been. There is no way to avoid it. There are things people might never understand, and things that they don’t wish to see in fiction. However, I feel as if we need to be more forthcoming and revealing about an author’s life, queer or not. While we can’t change the past, nor can we change the lives of those queer authors who are already long gone, we can begin with interpreting the works that these long gone authors have left behind through critical lenses. Their history and the history that surrounds them brings a closer connection to everything they have done.
Perhaps there is a writer, who lives with his husband in New York. Despite the steadily growing pile of drafts for his book, this weight feels lighter. To him, there is meaning in what he writes- he can freely express his feelings and views, articulate what he needs to say without fear, without having to hide. He can share his ideas with the world, and he can pour all he had ever envisioned into it.
And so he writes.
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