Left-Handed and Gay: Lessons in Adapting to the World

Why Identity Politics is a Dead End

I’m left-handed and gay, which means I’ve been wrestling with a right-handed, heteronormative world since birth. Do I ever feel oppressed? Sure—try cutting construction paper with right-handed scissors as a lefty in elementary school. It’s not oppression on the grand scale, but it’s enough to make you hate arts and crafts. And being gay? Let’s just say high school gym class was an exercise in avoiding locker room eye contact, not liberation.

But here’s the thing: I’ve learned to live with it. I can use right-handed scissors. I can survive those half-desks in classrooms that always seem designed by someone who thought lefties were a myth. And I’ve learned to navigate a world that assumes I want a husband and two kids when I’d rather spend my time with my dogs and a good book, far from anything resembling heteronormative suburbia. The world wasn’t designed for me, and that’s okay. Life isn’t custom-built for anyone.

I’ve even learned to live openly in a conservative place like Alabama without many issues stemming from being a lesbian. People are more understanding than you’d think. It’s proof that not every conservative state is a dystopian hellscape for people like me. You adapt, and you find your community. I don’t expect every neighbor to hang a rainbow flag, and they don’t expect me to host a potluck. It works.

Now, I’m not saying there’s no prejudice. Lefties used to get smacked with rulers for using the “wrong” hand, and gays were burned at the stake for being, well, gay. But we’ve come a long way. Nobody’s calling my left hand “sinister” anymore, and nobody’s trying to cure my gayness with prayer circles and bad electroshock therapy. Sure, there are still challenges, but progress doesn’t mean the world flips upside down to suit every single person. It means figuring out how to live and thrive in the world as it is.

Here’s what really gets me, though: the rise of identity politics. It’s like everyone’s screaming for their own personal right-handed desk instead of just learning to make do. Don’t get me wrong—representation and rights matter. But somewhere along the way, the pendulum swung too far. Instead of pulling us together, identity politics has us all splintered into smaller and smaller groups, each demanding recognition and reparations for every perceived slight. And the more we lean into our differences, the less we focus on the things that actually unite us.

Take the real class struggle in this country. While we’re busy arguing over pronouns and microaggressions, billionaires are laughing all the way to the bank. They don’t care if you’re gay, straight, left-handed, or ambidextrous—they’re too busy hoarding wealth and power while we bicker about who’s more oppressed. Meanwhile, wages stagnate, healthcare costs skyrocket, and the dream of home ownership becomes as mythical as a left-handed unicorn.

I’ll be the first to admit I’m not perfect. I’ve complained about the lack of left-handed scissors in classrooms and muttered under my breath about straight couples hogging the dance floor at weddings. But at the end of the day, these aren’t battles worth fighting. Real progress isn’t about forcing the world to cater to my every need; it’s about making sure everyone has the basics—dignity, opportunity, and a fair shot at a decent life.

So, to all the identity warriors out there: maybe it’s time to take a breath. Stop demanding your own personal version of the world and start focusing on what we all have in common. Because if a gay, left-handed kid who spent years adapting to right-handed scissors can figure this out, so can you. Life’s too short to be bitter about the desk not fitting perfectly. Sometimes you just have to sit sideways and get to work.