Between Peacock and Porcupine

We used to have the power to topple governors and move NBA games. How did we lose our mojo—and how do we get it back?

"We must become a porcupine."

That's what a renowned gay American activist told me this week when I asked him what the way forward for our community was and what shape the resistance should take.

On the surface, this idea that we must inflict pain on our enemies contradicts my recent claim that we must be perceived as net contributors to society (see Ganthropology) and demonstrate our usefulness. But one does not prevent the other. We can showcase the many ways our community benefits the broader society while ensuring that we flex our muscles when someone tries to hurt us.

It's become too easy to punch us in the face these days. When I look at the pettiness of Pete Hegseth renaming the USNS Harvey Milk. When I look at Ron DeSantis repainting the crosswalk at the site of the Orlando shooting. When I look at France appointing this week with total impunity a Prime Minister who once claimed "Le communautarisme gay m'exaspère” ("Gay identity politics exasperate me"). When I see politicians in Hong Kong denying us the most basic of rights in blatant disregard for their electorate. When I see Burkina Faso passing an anti-homosexuality bill. I hear political leaders saying "we can"—and testing just how far that goes.

If the ultimate goal isn't apparent to you, think of Newsmax's recent headline: "Keep Pressure Up to Lower PRIDE Flag All the Way Down"— what do you think “All the Way Down” means?.

If we do not react, then domination and subjugation are the natural next steps. We need a series of wholly new actions that destroy the vicious circle we are caught in: we appear weak and disunited, so we get symbolic attacks that lead to symbolic defeats that weaken and disunify us further.

The Coalition That Was

I joked this week in this newsletter that the days of repealing a bathroom law are long gone. In 2017, we demonstrated extraordinary collective power in North Carolina in response to the infamous HB2 "bathroom bill." The law faced swift and sustained backlash—from grassroots activists, major corporations, national sports leagues, and voters. Economic boycotts orchestrated by businesses like Bank of America and events like the relocation of the NBA All-Star Game cost the state hundreds of millions. At the same time, public pressure helped unseat the sitting governor who had championed the bill. Where is that coalition today?

This year, when giant corporations rolled back DEI (diversity, equity, inclusion) programs, it wasn't the LGBTQ+ community leading the pushback—it was Black faith leaders who mobilized swiftly and decisively. Rev. Jamal Bryant and others launched the "Target Fast," a Lenten economic protest that evolved into a full boycott until retail giant Target met demands to restore those commitments, invest in Black-owned banks, and support supplier diversity. We are no longer good at fighting back.

And yet, paradoxically, our community and its allies are so large that a consuming strike could paralyze the entire United States, and we could easily topple stocks.

The Abdication of Power

The reality is that we did, in fact, abuse our economic power after HB2 - something I could write an entire essay about. Some of us started racketeering businesses preemptively, often motivated by personal financial gain, and as a result, the corporate coalition crumbled. There were a few bad actors who misused our collective strength—thankfully, the current zeitgeist is putting an end to it. In the meantime, we subcontracted our global fight to the Democrats and went about managing our own affairs and having fun.

It is time to get back into the ring. I wrote a few months ago that hug-and-kiss diplomacy is over for LGBTQ+ people, too. What Dominique de Villepin in France called "la politique du bisounours" has been succeeded by something approaching Orwell's vision. We must wake up to this reality. When I hear that our strategy remains to "tell our stories", win the midterm, and defend marriage equality, I am concerned that we are bringing a knife to a gunfight. Also, many have listened to our stories and yet still hate us.

Beyond Economic Muscle

Of course, economic leverage is not our only source of power. Several other levers that LGBTQ+ people have abandoned include grassroots organizing, cultural influence, and technological innovation.

I would add self-defense. Larry Kramer is fashionable again now that we are getting screwed a little more every week. He famously called for the establishment of a gay army in a 2007 speech. I know this concept is hard to swallow for people who historically embraced non-violence. But I suspect now is a good time to create an organization solely dedicated to teaching LGBTQ+ people in the U.S. to defend themselves with weapons when attacked.

Innovation remains one of our talents, born from the fact that gay kids have no choice but to invent themselves out of thin air. As our global diaspora organizes itself to face the moment — possibly with elected leaders, a strategy, and a chain of command—we must be creative, leverage technology, and dare to imagine a future where we are not begging for crumbs from heterosexual structures of power: the legislature, the judiciary, religious organizations, universities, or multinational organizations. Instead, we must build our own structures and count on our collective power.

The most significant danger facing us today is accepting the status quo.

The Power of Assembly

Community is another of our superpowers. And thankfully, it is also something that we enjoy and are good at. We must meet wherever we can and organize. There should be a tactical meeting in every LGBTQ+ center once a week. The digital diaspora that connects queer people across continents is unprecedented in human history. We need technology, along with the will and the coordination.

But an organization without a strategy is merely a social gathering. We need clear objectives, measurable goals, and accountability structures. We need to move beyond the nonprofit-industrial complex that has domesticated our activism into grant applications and gala dinners. More on this, soon.

From Defense to Offense

There is no fatality to our destiny, but to derail the trajectory we are on, it is time for us to become both peacock and porcupine. We must continue to display our beauty, our creativity, our contributions to society—but we must also make it clear that attacking us comes with consequences.

The peacock attracts with its splendor; the porcupine deters with its quills. Both strategies are necessary. Both are natural. Both can coexist within the same movement, even within the same individual.

We have spent decades perfecting the peacock. Now we must learn to be the porcupine.

The question is not whether we will face more attacks—we will, or how far it will go, we must prepare for the worst. The question is whether we will continue to absorb them passively or begin to make our attackers think twice. The choice, as always, is ours. But the time for choosing is running out.

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What do you think? Are you ready to grow some quills? Comment below and let me know—I will share your reaction in Wednesday’s coverage.