What lends legitimacy to the LGBTQ community -- our flag, our history, or the scars we bear? Leslie Kouba

CLEVELAND, Ohio – What's the most legitimate dictionary of American English? I ask because I recently found that searching for a conclusive definition of "legitimacy" is challenging. First, every dictionary defined it as something that is legitimate. So helpful.

Merrium Webster, my favorite, gave five definitions because the word applies to so many different topics, like business, finance, theater, even having children. Why the search for legitimacy? Because I recently heard someone on the radio say the Pride flag "signaled legitimacy" for the LGBTQ+ community. It made me think of a new country's pennant or a ship's colors; the Pride flag declared the actual existence of the queer community.

The original rainbow flag was designed by Gilbert Baker in 1978 at the request of Harvey Milk, one of the first openly gay men to be elected to public office. There have been many versions created since then, all legitimate but not always used. My current favorite is the one called the Progressive Pride Flag, which includes stripes representing other marginalized populations (black and brown for people of color, light blue and pink for trans folks, and white for nonbinary, folks in transition, and intersex individuals) in the form of a triangle pointing towards a better future, where all people are respected.

Historical records legitimize the existence and impacts of people, places and events. Ohio has three historical markers, one each in Cleveland, Dayton and Columbus, that focus on queer history. In 2017, Cleveland's marker was unveiled on W. 29th Street in Hingetown at the original site of the nation's third oldest Lesbian & Gay Community Service Center. It honors how the center and nearby businesses created a safe place for Family to gather openly, strengthening people to stand up for their civil rights. You can read the text in person the next time you visit or online .

Dayton's marker honors native daughter, Natalie Clifford Barney , a lesbian poet and writer, born in 1876 and known for her literary salon she hosted in Paris for 60 years. The newest marker is in Columbus. It honors Summit Station , a lesbian bar established in 1970 that welcomed women for almost 40 years before closing in 2008. A month after the plaque was unveiled last year on June 10, it was vandalized. The bar played an important role in many women's lives and there's a documentary in development to tell its story.

Some historically significant events are not the kind to receive honorary markers. Instead, they leave a mark, sometimes for generations. In her book "In the Shadow of Diagnosis", historian and researcher Dr. Regina Kunzel of Yale University, describes the long lasting impacts of an era when psychiatrists diagnosed being queer or gender-nonconforming as a treatable yet terrible mental disorder.

The Chicago Press, affiliated with the University of Chicago, published an interview with Dr. Kunzel that opened with a summary of the stigmatizing judgment that began in the 1950s and wasn't mitigated until the mid-70s. During that time, such diagnoses strengthened the reputation and influence of psychiatrists so much so that it secured the legitimacy and popularity of the profession. Historians now refer to it as the "golden age of psychiatry," as the industry became very lucrative and powerful, garnering government contracts, book deals, fame and authority. As psychiatrists rode the wave of popularity, LGBTQ+ folks suffered at the hands of society and under the guise of treatment.

I want to pause and acknowledge the important work of psychiatrists as a whole. The fact that some doctors misstepped in the mid-20th century does not dismiss all the help they provide to people who need mental health treatment.

Heartbreakingly, the queer population still bears the scars of the false narrative. Dr. Kunzel says, "...it should not surprise us that for many, psychiatric thinking and treatment instilled, compounded, and consolidated a sense of shame." Shame. It is a cruel tool.

Current history-in-the-making is made of the same stuff. When asked about her next project, Dr. Kunzel said she's intrigued by the current return to pathologizing ideas, a trend evidenced by anti-trans laws, censorship of books and curricula and fear-mongering vocabulary against drag. Kunzel says it reminds her of her childhood in the 60s and 70s, a time when threats and coercion were used to enforce hetero sexuality and binary gender expression, and things like damaging behavior modification treatments and purges of gay teachers.

I share that childhood period with Dr. Kunzel. I attest to what she calls "the deep effects of stigma on queer and trans life" and the resulting pain that continues to ripple through the Family.

Our legitimacy is still judged and rejected, not by all, but by some. And some are too many.