what does 'tenderqueer' mean?

QUEER WORD
TENDERQUEER

What it means:

 depending on who you speak to, either:

• a person with a gentle, sensitive, openly emotional disposition, or…

• a person who weaponises softness to avoid accountability and get away with being a generally rubbish human being

Or maybe it’s somewhere in between?

Let’s use it in a sentence:

Julie's tenderqueer approach to conflict always started with people calling out her bullshit, but somehow ended with them apologising profusely to her

So, is being a tenderqueer a good or a bad thing? 

Honestly, it depends on who you ask.

Like many terms, tenderqueer has been through the linguistic wringer. It all started off innocently enough, but before long it slid head-first in to gaslighting, guilt-tripping, and growth-avoidance.

So let’s start at the beginning and trace its curious evolution together.

The Tumblr origins

The year is 2010 (or thereabouts).

And we’re on Tumblr, a micro-blogging site popular with a certain type of chronically online queer who expresses emotions exclusively through the use of a poorly-timed GIF.

It was here that tenderqueer first sprouted, coined as a way to describe someone who embraced softness and soft aesthetics. Think of it like a queerer, more emotionally articulate emo. Or perhaps a supremely introverted hipster with a tote bag full of healing crystals.

In this original form it was very much a self-descriptor. A way to signal to others that you were thoughtful, sensitive and probably knew your moon-rising sign as well as how to make the perfect oat milk matcha latte.

And then plot thickens

From here, things get interesting. The term branched off in all sorts of directions as different corners of the internet - and the queer community - got their hands on it and began interpreting it through their own lenses.

Some of the easier-to-grasp interpretations include:

• as a stand-in for the term ‘snowflake’ - used in the same condescending, snide way to pigeonhole someone as overly sensitive or emotionally fragile

• as a way to describe black-and-white (dare I say puritanical?) thinkers, who have a rigid sense of right and wrong - the type of keyboard warriors who would cancel a person for mistakenly saying ‘guys’ instead of ‘folx’ in a group chat

These kind of fall into the not-great-but-also-just-internet-people-doing-internet-things category.

Things Get Slightly Insidious…

Over time, the term took on a darker edge.

It’s now often used to describe a very particular kind of toxic queer - the one who weaponises emotion to neatly sidestep responsibility. And, if you’re anything like me, you’ve unfortunately known one (or seventeen) of these people over the years.

This might look like:

• Dramatically announcing ‘I don’t have the capacity for this conversation right now’ after sending a six-minute voice note that casually rewrites history and completely avoids the points you made

• Framing every conflict as a trauma response - ‘I wasn’t being avoidant, my nervous system was dysregulated’ - so they never actually have to say the words ‘I messed up.’

• Posting about their healing journey on social media while casually implying that you are the reason they need to heal in the first place.

These are the people that talk endlessly about ‘holding space’, ‘doing the work’ and ‘discovering themselves’ without actually ever… you know… doing the work.

One more layer…

Building on this definition, some Black queer communities have sharpened the term to describe White queer people who use their queerness as a shield - deflecting criticism and absolving themselves of wrongdoing, especially when it comes to racism or privilege.

This could look like:

• Breaking down in tears the moment someone gently points out their racist remark - then spending the next hour talking about how they ‘just wanted this to be a safe space for everyone.’

• Saying ‘as a queer person, I know what it’s like to be marginalised’ in response to being told they’ve taken up too much space on an all-Black panel.

• Using phrases like ‘we’re all just trying our best’ or ‘this feels really unsafe for me’ when asked to take responsibility for harm.

So, where does that leave us?

It’s been an interesting journey so far for tenderqueer.

Is it an insult? A badge of honour? A flashing red warning sign? All of the above (and more)?

Like most terms born online, it shapeshifts depending on who’s using it. Sometimes it’s playful. Sometimes it’s petty. Sometimes it’s painfully accurate in ways you’re not quite ready to admit to yourself.

But the big question for me isn’t just ‘what does it mean now?’, but ‘what will it morph in to next?’