Being in the Closet & Quiet Resentment
Let's say, for the sake of argument, that you hate metal music. I am far from a metal hater myself, but I think it's easy to imagine what it's like to not be into it: it gives you a headache, the vocals sound ugly and dumb, the lyrics are disgusting, you get the idea.
One day at work, some people are chatting about how much they looove metal music. Their favorite bands, lyrics, solos, they're going on and on about it, this is basically the coersation topic of the whle day. At first, you're kind of smugly waiting to jump in, and be like, "haha, guess what, I actually don't like metal."
But as they keep talking, you can't get a word in edgewise. When you *really* try to cut in, they talk over you, and keep saying how metal music is the best music of all time.
Why are they IGNORING you? In your head you're screaming, I HAVE A DIFFERENT OPINION.
Eventually you do fully interrupt them, make sure they've all stopped talking so that they hear you, and you say, very clearly, "I don't like metal."
They all look at you blankly. None of them say anything about what you said. One of them says something about Megadeth, and then they're right back to their convo again, as though you hadn't said anything. Pretty soon they're talking about how everyone in the world loves metal and everyone can agree that it's the most awesome music of all time.
You hate them.
And, understandably so.
Being part of a queer minority can feel a lot like this, a lot of the time.
We live in a very queer world where so much is possible in terms of gender and sexuality: femininity, masculinity, androgyny, blurring lines, mixing and matching, animal features, plant features, nonhuman aesthetics, nonorganic aesthetics, art styles uncountable that you can incorporate into your gender expression if you want to, monogamous dedication, polyamorous family bonds, open relationship dynamics, chastity, free love, untethered spirits--
And then someone at work asks you, "Hey man, do you have a girlfriend or are you single right now?"
And, if you're anything like a lot of our readers, then you'd probably have to respond with something like, "Firstly, not a man, I am female even though you clearly don't assume so, so thanks for that reminder that I obviously don't pass to you in the slightest. Secondly, I'm kind of fucked up by the fact that my soulmate is dead now actually? He--yes, HE, this was a BOYfriend, not a girlfriend, I am bi--but yeah my boyfriend was this really big dog who was very sexy and loving and my dearest friend, and now he's gone and I miss him more than you could ever know. And so trying to answer 'am I single right now' is kind of messed up, like, what the hell, Ryan, people aren't just 'dating the opposite gender' or 'single.' Even not taking into account the zoosexual thing, you shouldn't have assumed that I was straight, monogamous, unmarried, and cisgender. That's a *lot* of things to just take for granted. You *surely* know that bi people and trans people and stuff exist. And fuck it, YEAH, WHY ASSUME I'M NOT A ZOO EITHER? HUMANS DATE ANIMALS, RYAN, PEOPLE SHEEP AND I HAVE RIGHTS. YOU'LL BE HEARING FROM MY LAWYERS ABOUT THIS. DO YOU HEAR ME RYAN? I CURSE YOU IN THE UNSPEAKABLE NAME OF HECATE, NEVER AGAIN WILL YOU QUESTION ME WHILST ASSUMING HETERONORMATIVITY. Anyways can you check on the patient in room 4, he's been soaking the bedsheets basically all day and we should make sure we're not leaving him wet right now."
Obviously the details will vary from queer person to queer person, what exactly it is that rubs you the wrong way in everyday conversation. Maybe you're not a witch. Maybe you're not trans. But, for a lot of us, it's just this nonstop, constant barrage of little assumptions, little parts of sentences, that exclude us by default. It feels like being ignored. It feels like a childhood form of bullying, where someone is pretending you're invisible to make you mad. And that can be aggravating. Putting up with that from sunrise to sunset day after day can cultivate feelings of quiet resentment, even when no actual malice was intended by anyone.
Visibility helps. It just does. Actual serious rights (gay marriage, trans healthcare) are one thing that visibility helps accomplish, but right now I'm not even talking about that, I'm specifically talking about just the day to day, wanting to live in a nicer world, where we actually feel like we live on our own home planet. Being able to walk around with gay pride accessories helps tip people off that they should not assume "heterosexual" when they spark up a coersation with me, and that's seriously so nice, to not even start at "I have to correct you that I'm not straight," or even worse, "I'm just going to silently pretend that I am straight to get through talking to you," but rather, getting to be like, "yeah you can see my gay pins, so, we just both know from the get-go that I'm bi and that small talk should be more gender inclusive than you might otherwise consider, hi I'm Alissa." The clip-on tail probably won't get anyone all the way to assuming that I'm a zoosexual, but, they'll probably at least get "furry," and maybe we can chat about that in a nice way too.
There are some zoos, conservatives basically, who think that zoos should shut up, pretend to be 'normal' in public, and just ignore when we're being excluded. It's normal for everyone to strive to be a strong wealthy cis white human, no matter how much it leaves you feeling emotionally lonely. What can I say: I value very different things than that. I want warmth, fun, expression, rather than for my epitaph to read "Unremarkable" when I die.
It helps to seek out spaces where you can be free of the constant undercurrent of silent resentment, at least temporarily. Being around people who are like you are is so healing if you're not used to it. I'm not just talking about my own experiences either, I've seen it in so many others: someone getting to go to a furry convention and meet other zoos irl for the first time, hang out together with people who talk like it's taken completely for granted that zoos exist, because, YEAH, WE'RE THAT THING TOO, OF COURSE WE ALL EXIST, WE'RE RIGHT HERE, HOLD MY DRINK WHILE I GO TRY TO LIFT UP NATHAN, WTF NATHAN IS HEAVY ANYWAYS WHICH CARTOON ANIMALS DID YOU HAVE THE BIGGEST CRUSHES ON AS A KID, I REALLY-REALLY LIKED SVEN THE REINDEER FROM FROZEN I WANNA MARRY HIM.
Being able to talk about a husband and have the people in the room assume that I'm talking about a dog is really cool. It's like, wow, so this is what it's like when your thing is normal, assumed. Nice.
I remember being deeply in the closet. Not open to friends, not open to family, certainly not open to my classmates. Feeling like I would have to go live on the streets in exile and shame if anyone found out I was bi, or a furry, or a zoophile.
It took a lot of years to get over the deep-seeded shame that a conservative, puritan society taught me I'm supposed to feel. Not even just about expressing that I'm gay or a zoo, but even expressing any emotions at all: I remember one time shortly after high school, I was driving with my sibling and I turned and made a goofy tongue-sticky-outy face at them, and they were like, "OMFG yesss I didn't even know your face could DO THAT!! I thought you just frown ALL THE TIME!!"
But, as I've gotten more mature, more comfortable being a natural citizen on my home planet here, it's been really nice to wear more things on my sleeve. I think it's more than a little suboptimal to be like, "Oh my assistant on this job is trying to talk to me about marriage stuff as though I'm straight and unmarried, I'm just going to let her go on for seven more hours while my skin crawls." I think it's way better to be able to be like, "Haha actually I had a husband for many years, and I'm open to dating girls, anyways you were saying your friend's husband sucks, please go on." And then, maybe it's still not my favorite conversation topic in the world to dwell on for seven more hours, but at least it's not a conversation where on top of everything else I feel like I'm being hated and treated as unseeable the entire time.
Obviously there can be safety to consider, and other calculations about whether it's worth it to come out in different specific situations. Coming out as bi is generally going to be much more chill than coming out as zoo, at least, that's what I always think but then sometimes I hear others say that their experience is the total opposite, so, I dunno.
But, my thesis here, my overall message, is just to point out that quiet resentment from being in the closet exists. And if you're like, "Wow now that you mention it, I do feel angry every day because I feel like I'm being ignored," it's probably good that you now see it. And now you can think more about the whole situation. You can know, "Being at work/school sucks because people are talking about me like I don't exist, but at least I know that when I get home and get to my chatrooms, I can relax with people who do understand, and who do see me, and I can appreciate that." Or you can maybe think about if it's worth it to find more situations you can come out in, whether that's to friends who don't know yet, or whether that's feeling a rush at wearing some cheeky pins while you go grocery shopping three towns over so you don't bump into anyone you know already.
Whoever you are, whatever you are, there are more people than you know out there who would be so, so happy to see you.
Article written by Alissa Dogchurch (August 2025)
