On this day in queerstory: the birth of Billie Jean King, the death of Mae West

One of the most significant queer figures born on November 22 is Billie Jean King, the tennis legend and activist. Born in 1943, King would go on to win 39 Grand Slam titles. But her impact extended far beyond the court: in 1981, she sued her former lover for palimony — a case that thrust her sexuality into the public domain and made her one of the first prominent athletes to be openly queer. Her victories in sport and in visibility helped change both tennis and society’s ideas about gender, performance, and equality.

November 22 also marks the birth of André Gide in 1869, the French writer whose work remains deeply influential to queer literature. Gide openly explored same-sex desire in his novels and essays, and his literary voice helped lay groundwork for modern queer thought.

His life and writing questioned conventional morality in a way that made the personal political — and, for many queer readers, deeply validating.

Another layer to November 22’s meaning comes from its association with loss and remembrance. It was the day Mae West, actress and queer icon, died in 1980. While mob-style rumours swirled about her gender, West’s persona challenged gender norms throughout her career.

Whether she was playing it up or not, her sharp wit, sexual confidence, and willingness to subvert expectations made her a cultural touchstone — especially for queer folks who saw in her a blend of glamour and mischievousness.

Together, these figures show how November 22 is threaded with queer cultural force: a sports trailblazer who demanded equality, a literary giant who examined the soul, and an entertainment icon who played by her own rules. Their lives didn’t necessarily intersect, but they reflect different facets of the same movement toward visibility, respect, and self-definition.

Importantly, November 22 also highlights the sometimes messy power of representation. Billie Jean King came out at a time when being queer in sport could still mean losing sponsorship, respect, or safety. Gide lived through a period in Europe when same-sex relationships were heavily policed, yet he persisted in writing honestly. Mae West toggled insinuation and boldness, never fully disclosing but always performing in a way that questioned gender norms.

In many ways, November 22 is not about one triumphant march forward — it’s about the persistence of identity across decades and disciplines. The tennis court, the page, the stage: each was a site of resistance, affirmation, and change.

On that date, queer history reminds us that being seen doesn’t always mean being safe — but it often means being powerful. And that even in small moments of recognition, the possibilities of who we are and who we might be grow a little larger.