Lee Edelman's idea of the queer body in No Future: Queer Theory and the Death Drive involves how queerness is inherently divided between two contrasting ideas-optimism and pessimism-and that tension shapes how queer people would view and interact with society's idea of the future.
What underlines Edelman's argument is reproductive futurism-a cultural belief that the future finally means the reproduction of society through children, having kids, and continuing families according to standards of heteronormativity. It assumes that the future is always about progress, growth, and the next generation. However, Edelman outlines that this vision of the future only includes those whom it deems acceptable because we, as queer people-those not adhering to conventional sexual mores-do not fit into the reproductive narrative. To be more specific, for Edelman, queerness rejects the future because it is defined by society.
This refusal of the future is not one of literal death but one that refuses the fact that the future must only be for the sake of reproduction. For Edelman, the queer body lives in a space where optimism and pessimism coexist, wherein on one hand, optimism emanates from the fact that queer people resist societal norms by creating new ways of living and ways of experiences. Queerness opposes this very dominant narrative, which says that life is meaningful only in so far as it contributes to the reproduction of the next generation. The queer body is not bound by these notions of progress and continuity-it lives in the present rather than constantly striving for a future based upon heteronormative values.
But coupled with this resistance is pessimism, for queerness does not play the rules. It is not simply that the queer body does not engage in reproductive futurism-it rejects it. This avoidance by the queer body in participating within this process is often read as a 'no' to hope for the future. Edelman connects this with the death drive-a Freudian idea about the human trend toward destruction or negation of life. The queer body, in opting out from future-oriented goals, such as building a family, reflects pessimism about the future but at the same time questions the dominant culture's idea regarding the future.
But this is not bad pessimism; it opens the door toward another optimism. The queer body has become optimistic in its negation to such expectations. Queerness offers another mode of thinking about the future; one that is not based on reproduction but, rather, in the making of other forms of community and belonging. The queer body imagines futures built upon solidarity and authenticity, not on the continuation of a family tree. This kind of hope does not resemble the optimism of box ticking-kids and marriage, of perpetuating a particular way of life; it's carved out in spaces of joy, love, and connection outside the heteronormative structures.
The Double Bind: No Place in Society's Future
The duplicity of the queer body is mirrored in society not having a place for queers in its future. And yet, we are not part of that reproductive project, and at the same time, we refuse the dominant narrative. So we're in a kind of double bind: the future of society doesn't include us, but at the same time we reject the future. This is whence the pessimism comes-because there is no future on the terms of society. But it's also where the optimism really shines through, where we don't have to subscribe to the same future that society values.
Talking about this tension in queer politics, where the struggle, particularly of the queer movements, is not only against the structures of power but against the very idea of a future that's tied exclusively to heteronormative goals. Queerness is radical because it seeks neither to replace nor "fix" the current society but to question the very notion of what the future must be. We, as queers, simply aren't invested in the maintenance of the status quo-our politics are about living in the now and rejecting reproductive futurism in a different kind of future that is not always sutured to continuity, family, or children.
Ultimately, Edelman's pessimistic yet optimistic presentation of the queer body dares us to question a possibility of optimism that is not ultimately grounded in reproductive assumptions about the future. The queer body has not become extinct; it simply declines, flatly, to engage in a future hinged upon reproduction. It represents a radical way of living in the present-where the future is not determined by the next generation, but by ways we live authentically and create new forms of connection, community, and pleasure. The queer body is embracing a future without reproduction and, in doing so, offers a radical alternative to society's obsession with progress and continuity.