When I was 15, I came out as gay. Coming out was, of course, a difficult process, but realizing I’m gay was fairly straightforward. I’m a boy. I like boys but not girls. Ergo, I explained to myself one day as I looked in the mirror, I’m gay. It was the first time I ever said those words out loud, and it was liberating.

I thought of my teenage self as I read Jameela Jamil’s heartfelt coming out as “queer.” Jamil came out in response to criticism of her involvement in a new TV show about voguing. Many people online felt that as a straight woman who isn’t Black or Latino, she has no business judging the competition. So Jamil decided to tell the world she isn’t straight. I have zero interest in litigating whether Jamil’s involvement is appropriate or not, nor am I here to mindread the sincerity of her announcement, though the timing is cynically convenient.

Jamil’s attempts to quell the furor have not been successful. Her coming out has been met with a hefty dose of skepticism. This is not least because she came out not as a lesbian (she’s dating a man, so that would be a stretch, even for Hollywood) or bisexual, but as “queer” — a nebulous term which is so vague it has little meaning or utility in a social or political context.

Ask a dozen people what “queer” means, and you’ll get at least a dozen different answers. It means something different to everybody, and to some people, it means more than one thing. When I was in high school in the early ’00s, “queer” was still a slur. Homophobic boys screamed it at me as I walked down the hallway or drove through town. It was a word of hate. Despite having occasionally used the word myself, I’ve always bristled at it because to me, it is still hate speech. Yet somewhere along the way someone — I’ve yet to figure out who, exactly — “reclaimed” the word and turned it into an affirmation, an identity even. What “queer” is affirming, or who exactly it identifies, has never been clear, though.

For many people, it is simply another way of saying “LGBT.” Even I, as a writer, have referred to “the queer community” to break up the monotony of using the same acronym over and over. Last year them., an LGBTQ publication, asked nine people who identify as queer what it means and, predictably, got nine different answers. Daniel Reynolds, the social media director at The Advocate (America’s premier LGBT magazine), said queer is “a synonym for ‘not straight,’” which seems to be the way most people have used the term. (Is Jamil using it this way? Maybe, maybe not. It’s really not clear from context.)

The problem is others disagree. Kelly Wise, who is a “queer sex therapist,” told Cosmopolitan last year that some straight people can identify as queer simply by virtue of being polyamorous or kinky. “Just because it’s one penis and one vagina, that doesn’t mean that there’s not some queer aspect of you,” Wise said. As Cosmo noted, this isn’t without controversy. “Queer is meaningless,” tweeted the feminist campaigner and writer Julie Bindel. “The only person not included in the alphabet soup these days is the straight white geezer in Essex who washes his car every day, wearing a car coat and combover. I personally find it offensive that lesbian and gay identities have been colonized in this way.”

In December, the former Hollyoaks actor P. J. Brennan informed me that queer “is a political movement, not a sexual identity.” Following an article I wrote for The Independent criticizing those who claim Pete Buttigieg isn’t gay enough (and in which I operated under the assumption that “queer” meant LGBT), Brennan tweeted that “practicing Christian, military service, monogamous marriage…these are just a few qualities of Pete’s that most would argue are the opposite of queer, regardless of the fact that he married a man.” (In these pages, Daniel Summers touched on the same topic.)

If this is the case, “queer” doesn’t mean LGBT, but rather a political philosophy or even affectation which would exclude many LGBT people whose politics are more mainstream or — get your smelling salts ready — conservative. Coming out as “queer,” then, would not be about sexuality or gender identity at all. Rather, being “queer” is about having sufficiently left-wing politics and would, by that definition, exclude some LGBT people but include some straight people who reject what they view as heteronormative social institutions, such as marriage and monogamy. Therefore, by “coming out as queer,” a straight person could ostensibly be coming out as…straight, but left wing. What a time to be alive.

If society cannot agree sufficiently on the definition of a word, the word is meaningless. Coming out as gay is an act of precision. You are telling yourself and the world a specific fact about who you are. “I am gay” means “I am attracted to the same sex.” It’s not ambiguous.

Not so with “queer.” It can mean literally anything, and therefore ultimately means nothing. Saying you are “queer” when you’ve lived a demonstrably straight public life does nothing to tell us who you are, who you love, or anything meaningful about you other than you learned a new word on the internet. It isn’t radical, it isn’t admirable, and it isn’t brave. It’s just confusing.

There is no need to use a word with a cloudy meaning when we have a word with a clear meaning. “Gay,” “lesbian,” “bisexual,” and even the less frequent but increasingly common “pansexual” articulate a fundamental truth about oneself that is unambiguous and easily understood by the rest of society. They cover the full spectrum of human sexuality. Sure, you might be bisexual but more attracted to women than men or vice versa, but that doesn’t make you any less bisexual. Levels of attraction do not discount the fact that there is an attraction to both sexes.

On a personal level, using precise language helps you better interact with others. In some instances — say, in a casual conversation about workplace inclusion — using vague language such as “I’m queer” might be perfectly sufficient. In other instances — say, when hoping someone will ask you out or on a dating app — being specific about your sexual orientation matters more.

On a political level, though, it is vital for organizing around shared struggles. If everyone can be queer, then no one is queer. “Gay,” on the other hand, is exclusive and specific. In a world bent increasingly (and admirably) towards inclusion, some may bristle at the notion of exclusion. Sometimes, though, it is not only okay but vital to have clearly stated boundaries. Saying “I’m gay” establishes who I am open to romantic relationships with while also stating a fact about how I experience the world. In doing so, it allows me to build community with others like me, to stake common ground with them, and form a coherent movement against our shared oppression.

“Queer,” with its overbroad, murky, and endlessly multiple definitions, doesn’t allow for this and is therefore devoid of any meaningful social or political context. If we can’t define what it means to be “queer” — and clearly, there’s a lot of disagreement on the subject — then coming out as “queer” is ultimately not coming out at all. Rather than unequivocally stating your truth, you’ve said nothing.

A word which society can’t agree upon its definition and that seemingly includes straight people in the gay community is not a word worth using. I wish Jameela Jamil all the luck in the world as she continues on this journey to self-acceptance and living her life openly and proudly. Being in the closet is suffocating, and no one who has experienced it would want to deny Jamil the joy of finally living her authentic self. The thing is, though, I don’t know what her “authentic self” is. I have no doubt that she knows what she means when she says she’s “queer.” The problem is the rest of us don’t.