If you are one of my clients reading this, stop now. If you opt to continue, please know I love working with my clients, and I enjoy the work I do. I think most architects find themselves in this arena because they are drawn to design, they are creative, and they like contributing to the built environment. They see value in what they do. Besides, we’ve endured architecture school and made it through. Not time to give up now.
However, as I continued to grow within the profession and became more attuned to my queerness, I found being an architect was no longer just my intention. Architecture became more than designing houses and working with clients — more than attending and speaking at conferences. For me, architecture meant advocating for other architects, and eventually for myself and my community.
As I prepared to leave my firm in 2016, I started looking for opportunities within The American Institute of Architects (AIA) where I could be an advocate for other architects — where I could contribute to the conversation around where, as an organization, AIA could focus to help make current and future architects successful. I had already had a couple of disappointing experiences where that idea was floated but not carried through. I hoped to find the right position to be part of a larger conversation.
Little did I know fate had other ideas. Instead of finding work with AIA, fate gave me the finger and said: “You will continue to do architecture.” And here I am, nine years later, still working in the profession. Except doing that work has allowed me to spend time growing into advocacy — slowly working towards being The Big Gay Architect, slowly becoming the Elder Gay.
Because I can’t think of anyone who decided as a kid to become an advocate, to become a voice for their community. Can you imagine sitting with a guidance counselor in high school and saying, “queer advocate” as your answer to the question of what you want to be when you grow up? I’m not even sure they would know what career path they could recommend. There’s not a degree for advocacy. Maybe political science would help? Maybe communications?
Except I feel confident no one took that approach. I think instead we find ourselves accidentally — or not so accidentally — in a position where advocacy becomes a necessity. Frank Kameny was a federal employee up to the moment he was fired for being gay. Marsha P. Johnson and Sylvia Rivera didn’t start their lives as transgender activists. Stonewall took care of that. ACT UP didn’t come about because gay men were experiencing their best lives. Those are just three examples that come to mind.
Activism doesn’t happen in a vacuum and never has. Moments shape movements, and movements shape the people who lead them. Even if that movement is as minor as writing a blog and speaking about being queer in architecture.
Which means I should thank the AIA for their help in moving me along. Thanks for reaching out to emerging professionals then ignoring their input. Thanks for taking a skewed approach to equity, diversity, and inclusion that excluded everyone except for Black and women architects. Thanks for not thinking of queer architects in every survey you sent out to members.
You’ve done a lot to help me find my voice — even if that wasn’t your intention, or mine.
