I really wish people would stop using "queer," but particularly LGBT/LGBTQ/LGBTQ+ when they actually mean "gay men, and I guess some trans people and lesbians." Use an accurate acronym. If you mean GLT, use that.
Normally I attempt at least some kind of objectivity in my reviews, not least so I can look back and see what I thought of certain books in a way that's useful to me. This book states that it is aiming to give voice to people about their icons, to foster a sense of history and community, and to provide a book where queer people can feel seen and valid. Therefore, I'm going to do a slightly different thing: I'm going to review this book by how it made me feel.
Reading this book made me feel unwanted and unwelcome. It made me feel like I didn't exist, or if I did I certainly shouldn't be acknowledged. It made me feel dirty, wrong, and a little bit crazy, like I didn't know my own mind. It perfectly encapsulated why I have gone from actively neglecting areas of my life to be involved in LGBTQ activism and groups to pulling back almost entirely for the sake of my mental health. I chose this book specifically because I know that biphobia is a sadly expected and standard part of queer books, and especially non-fiction, and I was hoping - perhaps naïvely - that with such a breadth of authors and topics, even if 75% of the essays didn't make me feel included, there'd be at least a small handful that did, that acknowledged bisexuality or at least sexuality beyond a binary or gendered limit in a way that resonated with me. Instead, I found that people who were explicitly and vocally bisexual not only had their bisexuality ignored but were SPECIFICALLY STATED to be gay or straight. Can you fucking imagine if a cis gay man was cited in a book of queer essays as actually straight/bisexual? How the FUCK did that get through editing as the appropriate way to represent the only bisexual people in this entire anthology? Is this some kind of new game, see how far we can go to convince the filthy bis they aren't here, aren't queer, and need to shut up and pick a gender to fuck like the rest of us real queers?
Do you know what would make me feel seen, heard, valid? Once - just ONCE - in a queer book, to see the word "bi"/"bi+"/"bisexual" used, non-apologetically, not followed by several paragraphs of guilty caveats or negation as "but actually not." Why is it that in 2022 I am reading books that seem to think that loving all genders, love outside of any gendered boundary, isn't fucking queer? That read and use the acronym with a silent B? I was actively working against this 10 years ago and I swear it wasn't as bad then, Dan "I hate bisexuals" Savage notwithstanding.
This book made me feel worse about being queer - actually, it made me feel like I wasn't queer, shouldn't claim to be queer, unless I was willing to repress my attraction to most genders and only acknowledge my attraction to women. Ironically, that's pretty much conversion therapy, which I somehow doubt is what this book was aiming for. If I could rate this book 0 stars I would, because how do you end up with something that functions in direct opposition to its stated aims?
I will say some of the essays were touching and/or informative. My personal highlight was Tan France on the OG Queer Eye, which showed that the warmth, nuance and approachability he displays on screen is completely genuine and carries across to his writing. In fact, if a few small sections of this book (ie the explicit biphobia) were removed, biphobia and bisexuality was included where appropriate (ie make token efforts against the bi-erasure), and perhaps an essay be included that deals with bisexuality in a not horrendous way (although I do have to acknowledge Mae Martin on Tim Curry, which I did like quite a lot) then this could be a solid 3-4* book I could recommend. As it stands, it felt like standing at the side of the gay bar or Pride parade, being ignored and occasionally spat on. Not that I'd know, because actual gay bars and Prides I went to pre-plague were far more accepting than this book.