INFLUX Magazine Spring 2024

Illustration of “Adam”<br />

By Kathleen Bock<br />

“If I find a label that works one day, great. I’m not<br />

going to put any work into finding it, though. I<br />

don’t need to find it – I’m happy if I never find it.”<br />

— “ADAM”<br />

define ‘queer,’ you would probably get 100<br />

different definitions,” Adam said. “At a certain<br />

point, it stops being productive.”<br />

Experiences are blurrier than categorization<br />

Kat Rohn knew they were not cisgender<br />

around the age of 10 when the transgender<br />

movement of the ‘80s and ‘90s was filled with<br />

stories of people either living their lives in the<br />

closet or having to tear their lives apart in order<br />

to live as their authentic selves.<br />

Rohn wanted more out of their life.<br />

While they did not yet know exactly who<br />

they were, categories were a way for Rohn to<br />

reconcile with ideas they previously could not<br />

put into words — or at least better words than,<br />

“I just don’t feel right.”<br />

Categories can often go from a launching<br />

point for further exploration to a constraint for<br />

people figuring out who they are, Rohn said.<br />

Finding community meant finding freedom to<br />

explore your identity by seeing which pronouns,<br />

hairstyles or clothes felt the most affirming.<br />

However, even older generations of queer<br />

people tried to protect people from pushing the<br />

boundaries of acceptance too far.<br />

“When people initially grab on to a particular<br />

identity, it may not always stick,” Rohn said.<br />

“As we create more expansive categories, it<br />

allows people to ease into identities and make<br />

their own decisions about their lives in a way<br />

that reflects how people actually see themselves<br />

rather than trying to do XYZ because if I don’t,<br />

I won’t be validated, accepted or supported.”<br />

Rohn is now the executive director of<br />

OutFront Minnesota, the state’s largest<br />

LGBTQ+ advocacy group. As someone who<br />

came out three times — once to themselves,<br />

once to their partner and once publicly — Rohn<br />

said finding validation can help queer people<br />

overcome points of friction that many cisgender,<br />

straight people never have to think about.<br />

“It’s not about fitting into a particular box,”<br />

Rohn said. “But when you find your community<br />

and you find that sense of self, you’re able to<br />

move through the world with more confidence<br />

and support in who you are.”<br />

Rick Nelson found that support early in<br />

life. The first time Nelson showed any public<br />

affection with a man, he was sitting in the back<br />

row of a balcony inside the Uptown Theater<br />

with a jacket to cover him holding hands with<br />

his first boyfriend, Joe.<br />

As a student at the University of Minnesota<br />

in 1980, Nelson knew if anyone found out<br />

his sexuality, he would be shunned by all his<br />

brothers in his fraternity. But Nelson was a good<br />

liar. He had long since perfected presenting<br />

himself as straight, adjusting his walk and<br />

voice, and expending all his energy into being<br />

immersed in school activities to avoid bringing<br />

attention to his sexuality.<br />

On his first day working in a Dinkytown<br />

clothing store, Joe appeared in the empty store,<br />

where the two flirted until another customer<br />

came in. Joe slid his number to Nelson once the<br />

coast was clear.<br />

By the time Nelson completed graduate<br />

school, he had begun the process of coming out<br />

to friends and family. Unlike Joe, whose family<br />

cut him off after he came out, Nelson’s family<br />

was relieved he finally made public what they<br />

already suspected.<br />

“It was kind of weird, but it was telling<br />

people who I was and then walking through the<br />

world just assuming that everyone knew I was<br />

gay,” Nelson said. “I never really thought about<br />

it anymore. I was much more relaxed. I didn’t<br />

really give a shit what people thought of me<br />

after that… it was incredibly freeing. Highly<br />

recommend.”<br />

Nelson still faced discrimination: A co-worker<br />

asked if he was playing the Sugar Plum Fairy in<br />

a local Nutcracker production during a meeting;<br />

people doing double takes after Nelson said he<br />

had to drop something off to his partner. The<br />

final weight was lifted when he married his longtime<br />

partner, Robert.<br />

Now, 24 years into their relationship and<br />

11 years into their marriage, Nelson said<br />

nothing has curbed his anxiety like having the<br />

confirmation of sharing a life with the man he<br />

loves.<br />

“Put your true self out there to the world,”<br />

Nelson said. “Don’t put the idea of what you<br />

think the world wants you to be. Be yourself.<br />

It’s so much better than you can possibly<br />

imagine.”<br />

14 <strong>INFLUX</strong> MAGAZINE SPRING <strong>2024</strong> SPRING <strong>2024</strong> <strong>INFLUX</strong> MAGAZINE 15