Interviewing Clare Joyce

By Al Preston

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            When I talk about one oral history interview leading to another, my talk with Clare Joyce (she/they) is exactly what I mean. Someone I met who I would interview later knew I was looking for more people to talk to, specifically younger folks. They had met someone else from Pittsburgh while at college in Philadelphia who had come out as queer during college. They passed my contact information on to them after asking me if I wanted to talk to them.

            I say yes, of course. I’m finding saying yes to things might be worthwhile. I’m also not going to say no to talking to someone about LGBT+ things. I’m not really expecting anything from this initial interaction right away, if at all. However, not long after telling my current contact to send my information, I get a text.

            Joyce is still in undergraduate in Philadelphia and, like a number of young folks their age, realized their identity during the quarantine of covid. Unlike the others I’ve interviewed, Joyce didn’t think about their role in the queer communities or thought as hard about queer history. They sought out community of course, but they didn’t consider the history. Which is okay! Not everyone thinks about what came before so deeply as historians or some older folks do.

            Regardless, they’re more than happy to help. Joyce was in Washington D.C. for an internship, so our interview was over Zoom. I never used Zoom’s recording function before, and I struggled to tailor my questions to Joyce because we only texted a handful of times. Normally, I know a little about the person and what their goals are. Despite doing a number of interviews before this, I’m nervous like it’s the first.

            Zoom is giving me the most worry. In person I can see if my recorder needs anything but Zoom looks like it always does. I don’t even know when it’s going to ask me to save the recording and I’m a bit afraid that it won’t. I know the quality will be fine, we have another interview that was done through Zoom. Although there’s always the problem of the internet connection, meaning something will be missed.

            I’m also at home, which is cause for other concerns. My wife knows what I’m doing, but our cats do not. I could trap them in a room, but they’ll find a way to be far noisier if I do that (at least one will hook the closed door with their paw and try and shake it off the frame). Or drive my wife insane annoying her instead. Or they’ll just scream their little heads off. I love them, but cats are little gremlins.

            We’ve also just moved and the only place to sit is our kitchen table which is temporarily by the stairs in the living room. Unsure how Zoom will work and praying my one cat won’t want to be on camera like she does every other time I video call someone, I start the call.

            Interviewing younger people is a bit different from older folks. When you talk to your elders, you’re doing so to get stories and wisdom they’ve gained from being on this planet for as long as they have. You’ll get thoughtful reflections on their younger selves because they’ve had the time to have that conversation with themselves.

            Younger folks don’t really have that. Many times, when you ask them a self-reflecting question, that could be the first time they may have thought about it. They also have less stories from their past and more thoughts about the present moment. A lot of the time, they’re surprised to be interviewed at all.

            None of this is a bad thing. Oral histories like this are actually very helpful to capture. They explain how a group of people think and feel about their current moment. It can also be helpful to them when they’re older; to see how they’ve grown and learned. Sometimes an oral historian can revisit an interviewee years later and see how they and the world have changed.

            Their voices matter just as much as the elders’. One day, they’ll be the elders. One day their voice will inform a new generation and analysis of history.

            Talking with Joyce was a great time. As someone disconnected from folks Joyce’s age, I greatly enjoyed hearing how they see the world. While only about eight years separate us, that’s almost two decades in internet time. I felt like the elder as we spoke, but never in a bad way.

            Despite not being part of the queer community very long, Joyce was already gaining a greater appreciation of how complex our world is while also struggling with things queer people from the 1940s were struggling with. The phrase ‘queer enough’ came up a number of times. The invisibility of the queer community is something we have always grappled with. Joyce expressed similar struggles, trying to ensure other LGBT+ folks could identify with her while also appealing to her own developing style.

            Queerness is an invisible part of a person’s life. While we have applied stereotypes to queer folks that are visible, like how they dress and speak, like all stereotypes, those things don’t apply to everyone. There is no actual way to visibly see queerness in someone. Throughout time, we have found silent ways to communicate with each other, either by flowers or hankies or even how we carry ourselves.

            Being ‘queer enough’ is also just not something that is possible. However, we identify within the LGBT+ community, we are a part of it. If we pass as heterosexual, either with our appearance or the type of relationship we are in, or if we embrace those stereotypes and appear as visibly queer as we can, we are queer. We are a part of the community. All are welcome at the table, because identity is personal and internal. There is no true way to be visibly queer and preventing people from entering based on looks is a disservice to the entire community. You could never know the true identity of someone based on looks.

            It is hard to come out again and again with new people, sometimes even to strangers we will never see again. However, that is the nature of a queer identity. There’s no way to look or be queer enough, but this is a conversation the community has had since trying to form organizations in the 1940s.

            When I tell Joyce this, I hope it helps a little. I heard from the person who got Joyce and I in contact that Joyce had such a good time and enjoyed the interview. That they learned so much from me. Truly, that’s all I can ask for. I’m so happy someone had fun and learned something. That’s the goal of all of this after all.