Queer people have always been here. Why did the world pretend they didn't exist for so long?
If history had a filter, queer people would disappear from it. And often, they would. Not because they weren't there, but because they didn't fit the image of the "normal world." Man, woman, family, children. Everything else was just a perversion, a phase, a sin or a disease.
But history is not a sterile museum. It's full of bodies, emotions, love, pain and desire. And queer people have always been in it.
The family is the foundation of the state
The nineteenth century rewrote the rules of life. Factories, steam from chimneys, and the first nation-states created a new world that needed a clear order. The family became a small cell of the state - the man works, the woman gives birth, the children obey. This structure provided the economy, the tax system and social stability. But it also created a norm, and everything outside of it became an aberration, and queer people didn't fit into it.
Their existence challenged the simple equation: man + woman = family = state. That's why they were cut out of the story of modern society. Medical authorities began to talk about "perversion" and "disease", the church about sin and salvation, the state about morality and discipline. Science, which was supposed to liberate, became an instrument of control - cataloguing, measuring, evaluating, pathologizing. And in so doing, it determined who could exist publicly and who could exist only quietly.
The colonial cleaning machine
Meanwhile, Western Europe exported its ideas about family and sexuality to the rest of the world. Colonial powers brought Christian morality and European notions of gender to cultures that knew a much more diverse spectrum of gender and relationships.
There were hijra - third gender - communities in India, fa'afafine in the Pacific, and "two-spirit" people in North American indigenous tribes who occupied spiritual and social roles outside the traditional binary. Colonialism systematically suppressed these identities - laws criminalized same-sex relationships, missions eliminated indigenous customs, and traditions disappeared from the public sphere.
Thus, under the guise of civilization, a process of erasure of otherness was underway. Whether it was love, the body, or spirituality, anything that did not fit the model of "white man + woman + God" was labeled sin, barbarism, or disease.
Erase, rewrite, silence
When we look in the archives, we find that queer people are often not there because someone deliberately removed them.
It wasn't just shame or fear, but a systemic effort to maintain the illusion of a homogenous society.
History books needed heroes and mothers. Not gays, lesbians or non-binary people.
And so whole generations of queer existence dissolved into silence as if they had never been.
Only they were. In all eras, cultures and continents. From the poets of ancient Greece to the court artists of the Renaissance to scientists, soldiers, clerics. Their names often don't survive, but their footprints do. And they tell us again today that history is not a straight line, but a mosaic.
Invisibility as a form of survival
For centuries, queer people have lived a double life. The first - the visible one - was adapted. The other - the real one - took place outside of public life. In salons, in private letters, in secret meetings, in art.
Silence was a survival strategy. It was not a weakness, but a way to protect oneself. But this strategy came at a price. Generations of queer people have grown up without role models, without a sense of belonging, without affirmation that their existence has a place in history. And society could continue to pretend that there were no queer people.
Bright Tomorrows
It was only in the 20th century that things began to change. The experience of the world wars, the collapse of empires, the rise of feminism and civil rights movements opened up space for what had long been suppressed. When queer people began to speak out, society panicked. Invisibility became a voice. Voices became a crowd. And the crowd became a movement.
It wasn't until the 20th century that the world began to crack. The experience of world wars, the collapse of empires, the rise of feminism and civil rights movements opened up space for what had long been suppressed. When queer people began to speak out, society panicked. Invisibility became a voice. Voices became a crowd. And the crowd became a movement.
The symbolic turning point was the Stonewall Riots in New York in 1969.
On the night of June 27-28, police stormed the gay bar Stonewall Inn, one of the few places where queer people could feel even a little bit free. Such raids were not uncommon: police regularly arrested people for wearing "inappropriate" clothing or dancing with a person of the same sex. This time, however, there was a reaction.
Why is this still being talked about today
To some, the pressure from the queer community may seem excessive. That after all, they already have their rights, that "we don't have to fight for anything anymore".
Just look at what is happening in Europe and beyond. In Hungary, the government of Viktor Orbán has not only banned pride marches, but has allowed the use of facial recognition technology to identify participants. A state that claims to 'protect children and families' is monitoring its citizens simply because they publicly express who they are. This is not a moral issue. It is a tool of intimidation.
In Russia, the regime has gone even further. In late 2023, the Supreme Court there branded the so-called "international LGBT movement" an extremist organisation. In practice, this means that any public displays of support for queer people - a rainbow flag, sharing an article, a profile picture that says "Love is love" - can be grounds for criminal prosecution. Organisations helping queer young people have to close down, activists disappear from the public space. This is not about tradition either. It's about control.
And then there are the ultra-conservative movements that pretend to protect the family. But in reality, they're fighting the idea that the world can be different. Their campaigns, often funded from abroad, from the US and Russia, repeat the mantra 'gender = threat'. They question sex education, spread misinformation about trans people, and try to give people the impression that equality means a loss of security.
A freedom that cannot be silenced
Queer people are born, love, create and contribute. They are not an exception to humanity, they are a natural part of it. Any attempt to silence them is only delaying the truth that diversity is not a threat, but a force that moves society forward.
A society that can embrace difference grows. One that fears it stagnates.
And as the culture wars over who can be 'normal' are being fought again today, it is important to remember that the freedom of one is the freedom of all.
Queer existence is not a revolution. It is a return to the truth that history has long refused to hear.
And every new name, every story, every kiss in the public space is proof that what should have disappeared remains.
