Reframing Queer Sobriety as an Act of Rebellion
The rate of addiction among queer folks has been acknowledged by researchers and advocates for decades. Drinking and drug culture has become interwoven into queer identity for a number of reasons. One, being that bars and clubs have been a safer space for queer people to socialize and gather since the 50s and most likely, earlier. In addition, due to the high rates of violence and homophobia experienced by the queer community, many of us live with significant trauma. There is a high intersectionality between traumatic experiences, PTSD and addiction. Often times, the addiction begins as a way to escape from challenging feelings. There is then a physical and mental addiction to the substance itself that is then developed. Often times, people who struggle with addiction long term, no longer “enjoy” using the substances they have developed an addiction to. Rather, they continue to use to avoid withdrawal symptoms or the underlying trauma that caused them to use in the first place. Substances such as alcohol, cocaine and MDMA are normalized in party culture.
There is a sense of loneliness and isolation that some queer people feel when they are not drawn to the club and party scene. Many queer events include partying, dancing, loud music, late nights and sexualized energy. Sometimes, substance use begins as a casual way to heighten energy or comfortability in spaces which otherwise are challenging for these folks. Let me clarify, that casual drug use is not the core issue which I am discussing. Rather, I am addressing the rate of addiction within the queer community.
As these social interactions continue and substance use becomes more regular and accepted as, “part of the weekend fun”, the illusion of community begins to develop. Relationships begin to form solely with other queer folks who party and take part in substance use. When folks attempt periods of or long term, sobriety, they often feel alone in the experience as many of their friends also use. We know through studying addiction, that loneliness is a trigger for relapse and continued use.
Many of my close queer friends have struggled with addiction. I have had my own experiences with it as well. I have read many books written by queers who share their experiences with addiction. TV shows, documentaries and other forms of media have a variety of documentation and portrayal of addiction within the queer community. We know it is a problem, yet have little support to change this on a systemic level.
As a (mostly) sober queer, I have needed to reclaim my sobriety and lack of love for party culture as as act of rebellion. It has helped me reframe the part of myself that felt like I “didn’t fit in” with my community. Or, that I needed to change parts of myself through substance use in order to go to more parties and clubs. It did not fit with my core value of authenticity. Being sober, does not define my queerness. I have reframed sobriety as an act of resistance against the normalization of addiction in the queer community, as well as, as a fight against the systems and corporations that benefit off of the experience of queer trauma which feed addiction (I’m looking at you Budlight).
In outwardly addressing and discussing the over-normalization and overuse of drug and substances within the queer community, I can display to other queers that there are other options for connection. I can live through example that our queerness is not inherently tied to party culture. While I acknowledge, respect and am thankful for the underground speakeasy venues and the ballroom culture that queers created, clubs and bars are no longer our only spaces to connect.
Younger generations of queers have found community in fandom and gaming subcultures. Sobriety is an act of rebellion and a reclaiming of what it means to be queer in a culture where drug use and alcohol is normalized to the point where addiction goes unacknowledged or discussed.