Congress has cut federal funding for public media — a $3.4 million loss for LAist. We count on readers like you to protect our nonprofit newsroom. Become a monthly member and sustain local journalism.
Do You Use ‘Queer’? Avoid It At All Costs? We Look Into Its Long And Complex History

Queer can mean many things.
It can be an umbrella term for any LGBTQ+ identities that aren’t straight or cisgender. It can be a way to show you’re politically minded in your sexuality or gender. It’s a field of study where academics explore how gender and sex are experienced. Queer can also be an individual identity that denotes fluidity. But for some, its roots as a slur are still what rings loudest.
While “queer” is growing more popular with Gen Z, there’s debate about whether this term should be used at all. And when LAist launched our new project, Queer LA, in early May, some of our readers shared their disagreement with our use of the word.
It’s tough to figure this out because, on the one hand, queer is generally not taboo in LGBTQ+ communities anymore. But on the other hand, its history as a slur is impossible to ignore. So what is going on here?
A brief history of queer
The word has changed over time.
Merriam-Webster says its first known use was in 1513 as an adjective meaning odd, strange or weird. At the time, it was accepted to use the term in multiple ways, including to describe how someone looked, point out unusual behavior and note unusual feelings. In colloquial terms, the adjective meant suspicious by 1740, and later became slang to refer to counterfeit money by the mid 1800s.
-
Queer LA is your space to get the most out of LGBTQ+ life in Greater Los Angeles. This long-term project helps you figure out things big and small with a focus on joy.
-
We chose "Queer LA" to demonstrate that this project includes everyone in LGBTQ+ communities. Find it here, on-air at LAist 89.3, social media and more.
In 1894, the term was first recorded as a slur in relation to a person’s sexual identity. During playwright Oscar Wilde’s trial in 1895, a letter from the father of Wilde’s lover — Alfred Douglas — was read into the court record. (This trial was about charges against Wilde for gross indecency for consensual gay acts.) In it, the father described his disgust with his son’s relationship with another man, describing it as queer in a pejorative sense.
You might be thinking, 'Wow this is really bad.' And it was. The use as a slur came to a head more in the U.S. during the late 19th and early 20th centuries. Among a list of bad words, “queer” was one that would be yelled especially at effeminate gay men and lesbians because of how they lived and who they loved. It showed up in newspapers that spoke poorly of the gay community, and its “abnormal” meaning was largely how gay existence was viewed in decades past.
The word even became a way for people to dehumanize the LGBTQ+ community. If you were called it, you weren’t just “queer.” You’d often be “a queer” — a thing that wasn’t human first, someone living a deviant life. Such uses are still grossly inappropriate today.
How queer has been reclaimed for some
So how did some communities arrive at a positive outlook for a word that can mean such bad things? It’s tied to the rise of the AIDS epidemic in the 1980s when there was a growing demand for respect from within the LGBTQ+ community.
Activists started using “queer” as the epidemic pushed gay people to advocate for themselves in politics. For some, identifying with the word and reclaiming it was about critiquing a predominantly heterosexual society.

There’s debate about exactly when this shift started — some cite the late 1980s and others the ’90s. But at least in an organized sense, Queer Nation, an activist group formed in 1990, is credited for popularizing it more. They had a chant that you may have heard before: “We’re here, we’re queer, get used to it!” To introduce people to the new group, Queer Nation distributed a leaflet titled “Queers Read This” at New York City Pride in 1990. Here’s an excerpt on why the handout (which was written anonymously) used the word:
Well, yes, "gay " is great. It has its place. But when a lot of lesbians and gay men wake up in the morning we feel angry and disgusted, not gay. So we've chosen to call ourselves queer. Using “queer” is a way of reminding us how we are perceived by the rest of the world. It's a way of telling ourselves we don't have to be witty and charming people who keep our lives discreet and marginalized in the straight world. We use queer as gay men loving lesbians and lesbians loving being queer.
Queer, unlike GAY, doesn't mean MALE.
And when spoken to other gays and lesbians it's a way of suggesting we close ranks, and forget (temporarily) our individual differences because we face a more insidious common enemy. Yeah, QUEER can be a rough word but it is also a sly and ironic weapon we can steal from the homophobe's hands and use against him.
In this context, “queer became a rejection of heteronormative politics, and its use reflected a desire to reclaim a label, in order to make a political statement and demand change,” according to research.
Reclamation is a complicated thing. There’s no mass meeting of LGBTQ+ people to take a group vote — people just slowly start using it positively. It’s an example of how language evolves.
In the decades after the AIDS epidemic, “queer” has been added to the LGBTQ+ acronym, it’s become an area of study (e.g. Judith Butler’s take on queer theory) and more organizations and people are using that language to describe themselves (including me).
According to research published in 2020, “queer” as identity is increasingly popular with people between the ages of 18 to 25. Researchers also found that queer-identified people in the study were overwhelmingly cisgender women and genderqueer/nonbinary people. There were also differences among sexual interests — queer women were more likely to be attracted to transgender folks in general while queer men were most likely to partner with transgender men. Among the genderqueer and nonbinary respondents, they were more likely to use “queer” than cisgender people in the study.
This part of the reclamation conversation that often gets left out. If you’re trans or nonbinary, much of the popular terms for sexuality don’t quite fit. So what do you use? “Lesbian” is commonly used for women who like women, and gay for men (though sometimes “gay” can be used as an umbrella too). “Queer” is often the most inclusive language available, especially for gender-expansive folks.
How LAist does and doesn’t use the term
Language is messy. And in situations like these, both viewpoints are equally valid.
At LAist, I manage our public style guide, Dialogue. I’m part of a team where we carefully decide language choices in the newsroom, meaning we research and have internal conversations about what words we use. (You can also send us feedback on these words through the forms with the purple buttons). We have guidance about not using the term “queer” for a person unless we’re sure they're fine with it precisely because the term can still be hurtful. When it comes to our project Queer LA, it’s for the title only.
In reporting, the first question I think about when I’m considering using the word is: Who am I describing and why? Does this person or organization use “queer” to describe themselves? Have I even asked? (And yes, I ask interviewees about how they identify when the story merits it.)
It’s also more accurate. A listener reached out recently asking LAist to not use the word to describe gay and lesbian people, but that’s not exactly how it’s used currently. If “queer” shows up in a story, it’s because we’re referring to a group or person who uses it to describe themselves. Our partners at NPR have also used the term more commonly for a few years.
As I shared on our newsroom’s public affairs show AirTalk recently, I chose this because I strongly believe that the inclusive and fluid meaning of “queer” is aligned with my goal and purpose for Queer LA. This is a project for everyone — not just one part of the LGBTQ+ acronym.
As Editor-in-Chief of our newsroom, I’m extremely proud of the work our top-notch journalists are doing here at LAist. We’re doing more hard-hitting watchdog journalism than ever before — powerful reporting on the economy, elections, climate and the homelessness crisis that is making a difference in your lives. At the same time, it’s never been more difficult to maintain a paywall-free, independent news source that informs, inspires, and engages everyone.
Simply put, we cannot do this essential work without your help. Federal funding for public media has been clawed back by Congress and that means LAist has lost $3.4 million in federal funding over the next two years. So we’re asking for your help. LAist has been there for you and we’re asking you to be here for us.
We rely on donations from readers like you to stay independent, which keeps our nonprofit newsroom strong and accountable to you.
No matter where you stand on the political spectrum, press freedom is at the core of keeping our nation free and fair. And as the landscape of free press changes, LAist will remain a voice you know and trust, but the amount of reader support we receive will help determine how strong of a newsroom we are going forward to cover the important news from our community.
Please take action today to support your trusted source for local news with a donation that makes sense for your budget.
Thank you for your generous support and believing in independent news.

-
Censorship has long been controversial. But lately, the issue of who does and doesn’t have the right to restrict kids’ access to books has been heating up across the country in the so-called culture wars.
-
With less to prove than LA, the city is becoming a center of impressive culinary creativity.
-
Nearly 470 sections of guardrailing were stolen in the last fiscal year in L.A. and Ventura counties.
-
Monarch butterflies are on a path to extinction, but there is a way to support them — and maybe see them in your own yard — by planting milkweed.
-
With California voters facing a decision on redistricting this November, Surf City is poised to join the brewing battle over Congressional voting districts.
-
The drug dealer, the last of five defendants to plead guilty to federal charges linked to the 'Friends' actor’s death, will face a maximum sentence of 65 years in prison.