Reclaiming Queer: From Slur to Pride & Empowerment
Last Updated on June 6, 2025
The word “queer” has traveled a remarkable journey—from a slur used to shame LGBTQ people to a term embraced by millions as a sign of pride and resilience. This transformation didn’t happen overnight, and it’s essential to understand how language can be both a weapon and a tool for liberation.
Let’s start with some uncomfortable history. The word “queer” first appeared in English around 1513, simply meaning “strange” or “peculiar.” Over time, it became a weapon against LGBTQ people—a word used to shame, blame, and sometimes incite violence. For generations, it carried the weight of danger and exclusion.
If you’re new to LGBTQ history, it’s important to know that language has always played a significant role in how people are treated. Words like “queer” have been used to push people to the edges of society, but also reclaimed as a way to push back and demand respect.
The Turning Point: Activists Take Back the Word
Sometimes the most powerful response to being attacked is to take your opponent’s weapon and use it for yourself. In the late 1980s and early 1990s, activists did just that.
Larry Kramer, a founding member of ACT UP, stood before crowds and called for radical action: “At the rate we are going, you could be dead in less than five years.” His words weren’t meant to comfort—they were meant to ignite action.
ACT UP was formed to fight the AIDS crisis, which was devastating LGBTQ communities and being ignored by much of the government and public. Queer Nation, another activist group, started chanting, “We’re here! We’re queer! Get used to it!” This wasn’t just a slogan. It was a declaration of war against the forces that had tried to silence them.
At the same time, activists distributed a pamphlet called “Queers Read This” at New York City Pride in 1990. The document called for pride and solidarity, urging people to embrace “queer” as a term of strength rather than shame.
Scholars and the Intellectual Revolution
While activists chanted in the streets, academics were building the intellectual framework that would support this reclamation.
Eve Kosofsky Sedgwick published “Epistemology of the Closet” in 1990, which became foundational to queer theory. She saw “queer” not as a fixed identity but as a way of being that resisted easy categorization.
Judith Butler, in “Gender Trouble,” argued that gender identity is performative—something we do rather than something we are. Teresa de Lauretis officially coined the term “queer theory” in 1991, creating an academic space for studying gender and sexuality outside traditional frameworks.
If you’re not familiar with these terms, queer theory is a way of thinking about identity that challenges the idea that everyone fits into neat boxes like “male” or “female,” “gay” or “straight.” It’s about celebrating the messy, complicated reality of human experience.
Generational Shifts: Who Uses “Queer” Today?
The numbers tell a striking story about how language evolves with each generation.
| Generation | Age Range (2025) | % Who Identify as Queer (or LGBTQ) |
|---|---|---|
| Baby Boomers | 61–79 | ~0.5% |
| Gen X | 45–60 | ~2% |
| Millennials | 29–44 | ~8% |
| Gen Z | 13–28 | ~10% |
Gen Z doesn’t just use “queer” more often than their elders. They use it in fundamentally different ways. For them, “queer” serves as an umbrella term that includes anyone who doesn’t fit society’s narrow expectations about gender and sexuality.
Sarah, a 22-year-old college student from Texas, explains it this way: “I might call myself lesbian in some contexts and queer in others, depending on who I’m talking to and what I want to emphasize.”
The Current Battle: Politics and Mental Health
The fight for “queer” isn’t over. Since taking office in 2025, the Trump administration has implemented policies that directly target LGBTQ people. Project 2025 calls for removing “sexual orientation and gender identity” from all federal regulations, effectively attempting to erase LGBTQ people from legal protections.
For those less familiar, “sexual orientation” refers to who you’re attracted to, and “gender identity” is your sense of your own gender. Removing these from federal protections would make it harder for LGBTQ people to get equal treatment in areas like healthcare, employment, and housing.
The impact on young people has been devastating. According to The Trevor Project’s 2024 survey:
| Group | % Seriously Considered Suicide (Past Year) |
|---|---|
| All LGBTQ Youth | 39% |
| Transgender/Nonbinary Youth | 46% |
These aren’t just statistics. They represent real kids in real crisis.
Marcus, a transgender high school student from North Carolina, captures the current moment: “Using ‘queer’ feels like resistance when politicians are trying to pretend we don’t exist.”
Social Media: The New Frontier
Today’s young people aren’t just reclaiming “queer” in person. They’re doing it online. Social media platforms have become spaces where LGBTQ youth connect with others like themselves, share stories, and find community.
Don, a 16-year-old nonbinary advocate from Baltimore, explains why this matters: “Being able to engage with queer influencers shows me that it’s okay to be authentically me.”
Why This Matters Beyond the LGBTQ Community
The reclamation of “queer” offers lessons that extend far beyond LGBTQ issues. It demonstrates how marginalized communities can seize control of their own narratives. Think of it like taking a bully’s favorite insult and turning it into your superhero name. The power dynamic shifts completely.
This process also reveals something crucial about how language works. Words don’t have fixed meanings. They carry the weight of how people use them, and that usage can change when enough people decide it should.
For people who aren’t part of the LGBTQ community, this is a reminder that words matter—not just for how we talk about others, but for how we create the world we live in.
Looking Forward
The story of “queer” isn’t finished. While acceptance has grown dramatically, significant challenges remain. Many older LGBTQ people still struggle with the word because of the trauma it caused them. Some younger people prefer more specific labels that describe their exact experiences.
And politically, the gains of recent decades face serious threats. The current administration’s attacks on LGBTQ rights represent the most coordinated federal assault on the community in decades. In this context, “queer” has become not just an identity but a form of resistance.
The word that once signaled danger now signals defiance. It connects a teenager in rural Iowa discovering their identity online to the activists who faced down police at Stonewall. It bridges the gap between academic theory and street-level activism. Most importantly, it proves that people have the power to transform even the cruelest weapons into tools of liberation.
As Larry Kramer once said, “Being gay is a natural, normal, beautiful variation on being human. Period. End of subject.” The reclamation of “queer” turned that vision into reality, one conversation, one chant, one person at a time. The work continues, but the foundation has been laid. Sometimes the most radical act is simply refusing to let others define who you are.