Rus wrinkled his nose. “I’m not really that hungry.”
“Well, unlike someone, I have four back-to-back classes today, so now or never.” Daysha booked her schedule super heavy on Wednesday and Thursday to lighten the rest of her week. Actually, their history class together was the only Monday-Wednesday-Friday course Daysha had this semester, focusing most of her coursework to Tuesday-Thursday or the big three-hour block class that met weekly on Wednesday. It helped lighten the rest of her week for work and Pride Club and pretty much anything else she wanted to focus on.
Rus tried to take part in the Pride Club meetings but found he didn’t mesh with the queer campus group as well as Daysha. Shenavigated the daily politics much more delicately than someone of Rus’ brash nature.
There were a lot of great ideas floating around in Pride and some solid members, but Rus found that, as a group, things often turned into this debate on morals, where any misstep was treated as intolerance. Lots of purity politics. It was something Rus had recognized in his behavior once upon a time, finding fault with everyone as a teen for failing to uphold whatever ridiculous moral compass dictated Rus’ life. Eventually, he realized there had to be room for mistakes, for growth, and to accept that people had imperfections. He didn’t have the energy to argue with Pride members—who he mostly liked despite their virtue signaling—while they turned their compassion into a competition, looking for any flaws in similarly minded peers so they could go to war with them for not being tolerant enough.
Speaking of war, as they made their way into the campus café, Daysha broke away to grab some pizza and sushi, while Rus went for something light and snack-ish. Of course, he had to pick the same salad bar as Emma and her friend Landon.
“Oh my fucking God, look at this dumb bitch,” Landon said with a heinous hyena laugh, holding his phone up for Emma.
Landon had a terrible tan of someone who spent way too much time under UV lights. His bleach-blond hair looked extra brassy under the fluorescent lighting, and that made Rus smirk. But it was the colorful yet conservative outfit the pencil-thin Landon wore that confused Rus the most. It was how Rus imagined clowns in cages dressed.
The pair snickered, poking fun at a fat person with vibrant fire hydrant red hair. They kept their clothing masculine and their makeup flamboyant while their features were more androgynous. It didn’t take long for Rus to realize Landon and Emma were mocking some enby creator’s content. Theydid ramble, hyper-fixated on something, but Rus hadn’t heard enough to piece together the topic of the video. Still, he edged in closer, skulking and furious at Emma and Landon, who mocked the video in full two times over before Landon went to respond in his own recording.
“Okay, okay, I know folks are always worried about them sending us to camps”—Landon wriggled vigorously as if that added more merit to his point or undermined the reality that people truly hated queer people in this country—“but lemme just say if they do, please don’t bunk me with this weirdo. Like, lock me up and throw away the key, but please keepthatin a separate cabin.”
Emma cackled in the background, the pair making light of the idea of detention centers. A joke in their minds because even the reality of these types of facilities didn’t matter to them.
“Seriously, this is why people can’t take the gay community seriously,” Landon continued, moving closer to the register. “Trans people always do too much; they make it their whole identity.”
“All while not committing to an identity,” Emma said, careful to keep herself off camera.
“Exactly,” Landon said with pitchy agreement. “I can’t stand that. Don’t get me started on why the T is just there to add tea to our cause.”
“Well, it’s not really a cause,” Emma corrected.
Landon, the obedient trash he was, nodded affirmingly, likely terrified to be perceived as the type of queer person to make it his whole identity. Rus never understood the argument for such things. Of course, there was more to every queer person than their identity, but if they didn’t make their queerness part of themselves, embrace who they were, they’d end upa self-loathing cunt like Landon, bending over backwards to please heteronormative ideology. Internalized homophobia was pathetic and disgusting.
Rus nearly cracked his plate as he smacked the silver spoon holding black olives onto his salad. Not that Emma or Landon noticed, wrapped up in the bitchy retorts on how trans people didn’t exist in the LGB and why it was important their mental illness wasn’t lumped into the community.
A funny commentary Emma supported, all while keeping her face off camera, likely too soft for the mic of Landon’s phone to catch. Especially since he felt the need to repeat her points before ending his video.
Yes, Rus had stalked enough of both their social media platforms to know they each painted themselves very differently. Emma offered kind and conservative advice, presenting the perfect picture of compassion—completely opposite of her real-life behavior. Landon, on the other hand, presented himself as a no-nonsense gay man who wanted to show that not all gay people were terrible liberals obsessed with grooming children and making their gayness their whole personality.
Rus hated Landon even more than he despised Emma. The worst kind of gay person was a conservative. Though that held true for any minority who licked at the boots of their oppressor, and believed they were somehow different.
Thankfully, Rus never had a single class with Landon Cross. He’d had the misfortune of watching Landon’s hot takes online, finding the algorithm sent him to Landon’s videos on more than one occasion, which was his own fault for his obsessive need to know the enemy.
Landon believed that being gay didn’t have to be someone’s entire personality, a truth warped to serve the bigotry of hidingqueerness so as to not offend the straight overlords. Landon’s effeminate behavior only further irritated Rus, knowing he didn’t appreciate that sassy swagger was only tolerated because hundreds of thousands of queer people fought so he could be so uninformed. Also, despite his fem attitude, Landon suffered from unchecked misogyny. Not shocking, considering he hung out with trad-wife wannabe Emma Alexander, who only wanted a degree to find a man.
“Do you know anything about the queer community?” Rus slammed his tray onto the table, sliding into the booth, and joining Emma and Landon.
Daysha reluctantly followed Rus’ lead. The café had plenty of seating, and forcing his way into the same booth would definitely cause problems, but all the same, Rus had had enough of biting his tongue.
Landon rolled his eyes. “I know about the gay community, yes. I know there is a lot of political propaganda to force—”
“What about the L?” Rus jumped in quickly. “Do you know why the L comes first?”
Landon didn’t respond, likely surprised by the turn Rus had taken. The biggest issue with Landon was his war on queerness, focused on undermining and belittling the trans communities involved in the so-called LGB.
“Come on, tell me why the G decided to put the L first,” Rus said, goading Landon. “I know you’re not a history major like your lavender beard, Emma, but surely you can show me what you know aboutgayhistory. This is one of our most important moments.”
Rus wanted to point out Landon’s hypocrisy and show his bigotry extended to all members of the queer community. Hell, even the gays weren’t safe from Landon, a self-hating gaywith enough internalized homophobia to make even the biggest bigots blush.
“I’ll give you a hint, it’s not alphabetical,” Rus teased. “So, why is the L first?”
Landon stayed silent.
