Yours Queerly: An Open Letter to New Years

Cibelle Cavalli Bastos, 'Is a Feeling' (2013)

The New Year has always functioned as a temporal threshold—a symbolic pause in which individuals engage in reflection, self- assessment and evaluation. Did you spend the old year feeling like Esther Greenwood in the Bell Jar watching, paralysed, as the figs plop to the ground one by one? A new year with new resolutions is supposed to be just the right fix for you. New year, for most individuals, acts as a clean slate for them to reinvent and become a better version of themselves. The psychology behind it is simple. The fresh start effect motivates individuals to pursue aspirational goals immediately after a big landmark, such as at the start of a new year. 

Thus, the tradition of New Year resolutions came into being. The ancient Babylonians were among the first to observe the ritual of setting goals and making promises to oneself at the beginning of a new year. In fact, the first month of the year, January, is named after Janus—the Roman god of doorways and transitions—depicted with two faces gazing in opposite directions. Janus symbolises a simultaneous reckoning with the past and an aspiration towards self-reinvention in the future. 

Although, new year is the embodiment of new beginnings and thus has always been accompanied by a new zeal to make amends and improve oneself, the recent neoliberal trend of turning ourselves into perpetual projects in making has done more harm than good. Instead of being a time for reflection of one’s past year and acknowledgement of the passing time by slowing down for a moment, the new year comes ridden with anxiety. The result is that most of us jot down a checklist full of expectation in the form of new year resolutions without any acknowledgement of our past achievements whatsoever and when the same remain unmet, feelings of disappointment and guilt follow.

For queer individuals in particular, the onset of the new year and the rituals of goal-setting and huge gatherings associated with it can amplify existing tensions surrounding identity, visibility, and belonging. The existing heteronormative framework doesn’t simply match our lived experiences and that can often lead to further deepening of the existing distress and anguish. On one hand there’s the lack of safe spaces in a time that’s culturally communal and celebratory.  Moments of togetherness through family gatherings, public celebrations, or social rituals are built on assumptions of acceptance and emotional safety that many queer people do not have access to. On another hand are the questions surrounding one’s identity that the new year tradition of resolutions brings to surface. The whole trend of re-inventing oneself completely leaves little room for ambiguity or exploration. Thus, the new year, rather than offering a sense of possibility, may instead function as a reminder of conditional acceptance and the ongoing labor required to negotiate one’s existence within structures that remain unevenly accommodating. 

Therefore, perhaps this new year and the ones to come after it, call for a softer approach—one that allows us to be a little kinder to ourselves. Making amends and striving toward better versions of ourselves have long been, and will continue to be, an essential part of growth and an integral aspect of life. However, this process cannot exist in isolation from recognition and care. Acknowledging our efforts and giving credit where it is due—especially to ourselves for enduring, surviving, and continuing to exist within systems that aren’t always considerate of us—is equally vital. For queer individuals in particular, simply persisting, finding moments of joy, building chosen families, and asserting our identities in the face of erasure are achievements that deserve recognition. 

For those who haven’t found thor community yet, belonging is not a deadline to be met, neither is it a failure. Community is oftentimes forged in fragments and until it isn’t, it is enough to honor one’s own presence, to hold space for oneself with patience and compassion. And for those who are still questioning their identity, there’s truly no race to be run. If there’s one thing we learn from the swooniest love story in existence, ‘Red White and Royal Blue’, let it be the fact that “every queer person has the right to come out on their own terms and their own timelines. They also have the right to not come out at all. The forced conformity of the closet cannot be answered with the forced conformity of coming out of it. Every queer individual has the right to self determination which is exactly one of the principles that the queer liberation movement has always been fought on…” 

Perhaps the spirit of new beginnings and a pursuit to improve oneself lies not  in relentlessly striving for perfection and reinvention but in embracing oneself and giving to ourselves the care and patience we deserve. 

Written by Mona Lisa, 1st Year, English Hons