It’s no secret that queer history is marked by generational divides. We have a shared struggle, yes, but methods and goals have changed over different demographics and decades. Understanding those differences doesn’t just require “looking back,” it foregrounds attention and empathy for lives lived under conditions quite different from our own. We might not always agree intergenerationally, but we do always have so much to learn from one another. That’s why intergenerational queer research is so important, and it’s a space where queer history research can find such important meaning.  

Dr. Juan Carlos Mezo González’s recent book, Gay Print Culture: A Transnational History of North America, explores queer communities and cultures across Mexico, Canada, and the United States through archives, periodicals, and oral histories. His work brings him into conversation with activists and community members whose experiences were shaped by queer worlds very different from those many of us inhabit today. In this conversation, we discuss what happens when contemporary scholars encounter those histories with critical inquiry and historical empathy, and what queer communities stand to gain when they take intergenerational dialogue seriously.  

Ally Krueger-Kischak: You came to this research decades after the period you study. What did it feel like to encounter these earlier generations of queer people not just as historical subjects, but as people whose lives and political commitments were very different from your own? 

Juan Carlos Mezo González: Encountering these earlier generations of queer people was a very rewarding experience. From the moment I began my research on 1970s-1990s gay print culture, I approached the subject with much respect and admiration. The activists, editors, and artists that put together these periodicals were very much at the forefront of a movement that fought for LGBT liberation: they strove to circulate information, they encouraged people to come out, join the movement, and celebrate who they were, and they worked to build communities. All this while also fighting police harassment, hostile heterosexist societies, and in some cases authoritarian regimes. In many ways, their political commitments were different from my own because much has changed since that period. But in many other regards, our goals continue to be the same: fighting heterosexism and other structures of oppression, promoting positive representations of same-sex love and desire, and advocating for LGBTQ+ rights, to name a few. Overall, encountering these earlier generations meant finding interlocutors whose wisdom and lived experiences were both fascinating and illuminating to better understand queer pasts and presents. 

AkK: From your work, do you think there are ways that younger queer scholars and activists sometimes misunderstand the political worlds of previous generations? If so, what do you wish more people appreciated about those histories? 

JCMG: Absolutely. I think it is often easy to fall into the trap of judging the past through the lens of the present. Of course, part of my work as a scholar is to bring a critical lens into everything I study, but this critical lens also involves striving to understand the context in which certain events took place, and the decisions that people had to make in those unique contexts. A specific person or group in the 1970s or 1980s had a different mindset and different priorities compared to the ones a person or group would have in the 2000s. We cannot expect them to have shared our present-day values or sensibilities, or to have conducted themselves according to what we consider acceptable now. I think we can be critical of the past while still celebrating the courage and accomplishments of those activists who fought oppressive governments, the police, or societies at large. They were not perfect, but who is? 

AKK: Did you find yourself identifying with the people you studied, or were there moments when their perspectives felt unfamiliar or even challenging? 

JCMG: I very much identified with the people I interviewed, at least with most of them. As I said earlier, much has changed since the 1970s and 1980s, but the people I talked to are not disconnected from the world I know—after all, they have also lived in it. We may not agree on everything, and we may come from different backgrounds, but their perspectives are not completely unfamiliar to me (or mine to them), and I never felt challenged by their views. Even if our sexual identities were all we had in common, this is a rather significant thing to share in such a homophobic world. Also, almost everyone I interviewed was kind and generous, so it was easy to feel connected to them. 

During my research, I did come across a number of sources that upset me, but this generally happened at archives where I read through the personal correspondence of some individuals. Some of these documents reproduced racist or stereotypical ideas of certain groups or regions (e.g. Latin Americans and Latin America). The people writing those things were almost never the activists whose work I admired most and wanted to write about, so there was no need to linger in those sources. But, to respond to the question, I did find it harder to identify with those people. Having said that, I did not take those comments personally; clearly, they came from a place of ignorance, and I hope that, at some point, they overcame it. 

AKK: Your research depends on people who preserved documents, shared memories, and made themselves available to future generations. Is there anything you hope your own work will pass on to the queer scholars, activists, and community members who come after us? 

JCMG: It is inspiring to see how much the field of queer history has developed in the last few decades. I hope my scholarship supports this momentum (even a tiny bit) and motivates future generations to engage in the field. If my scholarship helps to illuminate some aspects of queer history and encourages others to pose new questions about it, I will be fulfilled. Also, I wrote much about gay pride in my book because the people I studied embraced and promoted this idea. In many ways, my book and scholarship are the product of my own gay pride, and I hope to convey that feeling to others.  

As Dr. Mezo González’s work demonstrates, intergenerational dialogue is not simply about preserving the past; it’s about creating meaningful connections across time. Queer history becomes most powerful when it is understood as an ongoing conversation. By listening to the memories, experiences, and insights of previous generations, contemporary scholars and activists gain a richer understanding of both the progress that has been made and the challenges that remain. 

Thank you, Dr. Mezo González, for sharing your insights with us and for your contributions to the study of North American queer print culture. Your work offers an important reminder that pride is not only a celebration of who we are in the present, but also a recognition of the courage, creativity, and perseverance making this present possible, and the responsibility to carry those histories forward with care. 

Ally Krueger-Kischak (any/all) is a Research Assistant on the Drag Kings Oral History Project. As an MA candidate in History and Sexual Diversity Studies, their research explores trans and queer rural histories, futurities, and working-class environmentalism in Southern Ontario.

Juan Carlos Mezo González is Assistant Professor of gender and sexuality at Mount Royal University. His research examines the relationship between print media, visual culture, and the histories of gender, sexuality, race, and social movements in Mexican and transnational contexts. His first book, Gay Print Culture: A Transnational History of North America (Duke University Press, 2026) investigates the relationship between transnational gay liberation politics, periodicals, and images in Mexico, the United States, and Canada from the early 1970s through the mid-1990s.