THEGAYUK

Category: Comment

  • OPINION: Don’t Take It The Wrong Way: Homosexuality in Comedy

    In 1972, during an impromptu TV appearance with jazz singer George Melly, Monty Python star Graham Chapman, rather drunkenly, came out publicly as the first gay comedian in British history.

    This casual announcement caused no small amount of outrage – homosexuality had only been decriminalised three years previously and it was far from universally accepted. 41 years on, our attitudes have changed: the recent British Attitudes Survey revealed four-fifths of people now have no objection to homosexual relationships, and same sex marriage is soon to become law. But has the comedy world kept pace with this social change?

    Certainly, directly homophobic jokes are no longer accepted by audiences. Where you might have had a few non-ironic, ‘come over a little queer’, innuendos in working men’s clubs in the 1970s, these are now restricted to the school playground. But homosexuality still remains to some extent a taboo and therefore a basis – if not a target – for comedy.

    Consider, for instance, how a comedian can get a laugh out of allusion to a homosexual act or homosexual attraction, which wouldn’t be possible with the heterosexual equivalent. Comedians can also continue to spout gay-innuendo, as long as it is done from behind the mask of a character (cf Al Murray) or irony (cf Jimmy Carr).

    In other words, we as a nation no longer think homosexuality is wrong but are happy to laugh at it, provided we believe the comedy’s creators share our enlightened views.

    Chapman’s coming out in 1972 was closely followed by the premiere of Are You Being Served – perhaps the source of Britain’s most famous comic gay character.

    Though now dated, Mr Humphries camp behaviour crops up later in Gimme Gimme Gimme, Benidorm and Little Britain, while the trope of a closeted or secretly gay man resurfaces frequently, for instance Frasier’s Gil Chesterton, The Simpsons’ Smithers and Ted & Ralph from The Fast Show.

    On the live circuit, numerous all-male sketch groups coax wild laughter out of subtle suggestions of attraction between the actual cast members and their attempted or successful sexual advances (passionate snogs in male sketch groups are so frequent it’s a wonder anyone is still able to believe they are unplanned).

    A reasonable question is whether this is something we should be concerned about. I would not for one second suggest the people making the above work hate gay people or necessarily hold even slightly homophobic views. After all, comedy’s role is merely to play on taboos; it is society that is responsible for creating them.

    Comedy reflects the world and its prejudices and, if we don’t like what we see, this is just the rage of Caliban seeing his own face in a glass (to quote Oscar Wilde – perhaps the world’s most famously ill-fated homosexual comedian). One could easily claim that playing on gay taboos does not involve saying homosexuality is wrong, merely that it historically exists outside of the mainstream.

    But doesn’t comedy have a duty to question and to change the world, rather than simply playing to its basest interests?

    After all, no self-respecting comedian would tell racist jokes, even if their audience happened to consist entirely of BNP activists who genuinely enjoyed them. Isn’t laughing at a situation predicated on homosexuality saying, in some way, that to be gay is somehow slightly ridiculous – not wrong or evil – but somehow lesser, not ordinary, not completely sensible. There is perhaps a hint of macho culture at work – a culture often accused of pervading comedy – where the jokes of the playground are rejected but their underlying narrative is accepted and played on.

    It has been frequently noted that men playing women gets laughs but women playing men does not, and that this may be down to the gender-power-play at work. Perhaps the same process exists when a straight man ‘plays gay’. Certainly the reverse wouldn’t be funny – the heterosexuality of a straight man, in itself, is never made the basis for a joke.

    Doesn’t the mere fact of this suggest something not entirely comfortable at work behind homosexuality’s portrayal in comedy?

    It is also interesting to contrast how frequently, how well and from how early on drama – on stage and screen – has tackled the real life issues of homosexuality, gay life and gay culture, and has succeeded in presenting numerous three-dimensional gay characters. Perhaps comedy is starting to do this, although its tendency toward stereotype makes it not best placed for the challenge. But surely, through satire, it is perfectly positioned to tackle the existing power-play between gay-straight relations and the place of gay stereotypes in culture.

    Where are the stand-up routines and the sketches poking fun at the casually accepted cultural view of homosexuality as effeminate or butch, transgressive, ridiculous or naughty?

    Graham Chapman did much to advance gay rights, mainly by living in the public eye as a non-stereotypical, and successful, gay man. But his comedy work with the Pythons made as much comedy hay from ‘poofs’ as anyone else. Perhaps it’s time for comedy to take a more active approach to gay representation – to stop meeting expectations and start setting them. If homosexuality has become a cheap laugh and an easy target, why not take aim at the harder target – comedy itself.

    By Tom Crawshaw

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, it’s management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

     

  • COLUMN | Painless Pleasure

    Yesterday I spent time looking at instruments of torture and some really gruesome looking antique sex toys. I was out strolling round London with my partner and we’d done the usual stuff (theatre, coffee, Vintage clothes shops) when we happened on a fetish wear shop and decided this complemented. It had an enticing window display and the place looked intriguing so we rang the bell and popped in.

    It was beautifully laid out and the orifice ripping metal wear and rubber ball gags were laid out with aplomb. I’ll give them that. I winced a little as we walked around, browsing and clenched my buttocks as I admired the patina on one highly polished ergonomic device designed to cause pain after another.

    There’s a fine line between the two things. Like love and hate, pleasure and pain are sensations that our hardwiring seem to allow crossover with. I almost envy the S and M fanatics. I’m the kind of person who would take to my bed with a bad corn and am known for my stash of painkillers which I heft around in my bag. I struggle enough with my dodgy back, creaky neck and achy knees to want to invoke further trouble by being paddled mercilessly on the buttocks in a dungeon in Vauxhaul. Nor am I one who is keen to inflict pain. I get upset if I accidentally tread on a spider.

    I once slept with a man who asked if he could put me in a half Nelson during intercourse and I wasn’t keen. He also asked if he could pull my hair which for a man over the age of forty is a definite no-no. I’m already at the point of reaching for the Regaine without having the risk of clumps of it coming out during someone’s boisterous orgasm.

    I admire the style and the commitment of the sadomasochistic scene devotees but I think I’ll stick to the Vintage clothes shops on my next ramble round town. There was a lovely Harris Tweed that hid my flabbier areas better than any PVC suit would and the ties there did more for my eyes than the gimp masks would have.

  • OPINION: Are Lesbians More Accepted Than Gay Men

    This is a question that I think I already know the answer to; of course lesbians are more accepted. But why? What is it about lesbian women that make them more accepted by society than gay men?

    I believe there to be a number of reasons why lesbians appear to be more accepted than gay men. Some reasons are more ridiculous than others. I’ll begin at the bottom of the barrel.

    1. Lesbians are hot. Is that so, Mr Straight Man? Of course it is ridiculous that so many straight men don’t mind lesbianism because they think the women are hot. If they stopped for a moment and removed their brain from their pants they would realise that not all lesbians are like the women one sees lezzing off in a porno. Once on a night out the ten women I was with began to kiss each other. People applauded and cheered them on. Yet when I kissed another man that excitement turned to outrage and somebody threatened to beat me up. People should not be objectified and that includes lesbian women. They’re not some super hot breed of human, you know. They are normal just like the rest of us.

    2. Lesbianism is seen as being fun and playful in pop culture. Remember when Britney and Madonna snogged? A few eyebrows were raised but most people thought it was fun. Then there’s Katy Perry singing about kissing a girl and liking it. See it’s cool to be a lesbian. And now masses of school and college girls come out as lesbian so they can be cool too. It’s so en vogue. Can you think of an instance where a famous male has done the same kind of thing? I can’t recall a single moment of man on man action akin to the Britney & Madonna smooch or a song like Katy Perry’s that is sung by a man and is about kissing another guy. This is another example of double standards in humanity.

    3. Society is used to seeing women being affectionate towards each other. This is quite an important point because it is true that women can hold hands, hug, kiss or dance with each other and people don’t necessarily think they are lesbians. Yet when two men do the same things they are labelled as gay and there is instantly a stigma attached to that. Recently I was at a pub and decided to dance with a male friend while someone was wailing Adele on the karaoke. People thought that because I was slow dancing with another man that he must have been my boyfriend. Nobody thought that my two female friends were lesbians though, even though they actually are.

    4. Women can wear men’s clothing but when a man wears women’s clothes they are viewed negatively. When a woman wears a top meant for men it’s ok because they are just a bit of a tomboy. Even if they are out as lesbian it still doesn’t matter because society is so used to seeing females wearing clothing meant for the opposite gender. But if I was to put on a dress and walk along my local high street I would be ridiculed and stared at. This is yet more double standards and one that really bothers me. I don’t know why clothes have to be gender specific in the first place. So from this perspective it is easier to be a lesbian than a gay man too.

    5. People think about the sexual acts. For this point I refer to the great Queer as Folk, in which I remember one of the characters saying that young Nathan being found out to be homosexual wasn’t about being gay; it was about cock and the fact he likes it. Expanding on this I think that attitude would also include the act of anal sex. A lot of people find it disgusting or against nature (although many heterosexual people secretly indulge in it). Although the thought of lesbian sex or men fornicating with women makes me feel a bit queer, I don’t think it’s disgusting at all. Sex is a natural act in most of its forms and it is frustrating that because someone may take it up the bum they are not as accepted as two women who do other, more socially acceptable things in the bedroom. With so many men not actually engaging in anal sex, it is quite an ignorant attitude to have.

    There we have it; five reasons why I believe lesbian women are more accepted than gay men. Maybe some lesbians would feel differently about this and think that it is easier for men to come out as gay than it is for them to come out, but from my perspective it is more difficult for gay men. I am aware that some parts of the points I made above could be seen as making light of a topic, but I do think that each point has a serious contribution to how lesbian women and gay men are perceived in this society.

    Ultimately the coming out experience can be difficult for anyone, regardless of whether they are lesbian, gay, bisexual or transgender. Perhaps to say coming out and being accepted is easier for one group compared to another is a bit of a generalisation, but it’s a generalisation that I believe exists. The most important thing in life is self-acceptance though. If you can master that then the rest is a breeze.

    Do you think gay men have it easier?

     

     

     

  • OPINION | Why don’t we come out?

    Over this month you will have no doubt read many articles and stories about how people have come out. Across the gay community, it is the one thing we all have in common; we all have a story to tell.

    Some are happy stories that strengthen relationships and make the ties that bind closer. Others have had negative effects on relationships for various different reasons. My personal experience was generally apathy. I had a lot of “yes, I know” and “oh, is that all?” I’m not exactly a stereotype either, I don’t like girls aloud, I’m not fashionable or into male grooming. I’m fat and a geek.

    Even working as a counsellor with LGBT clients who have not had a positive reaction, I have never come across anyone that has regretted doing so. Most are upset and hurt that they have been rejected but proud that they have found the strength to say proudly and honestly who they are.

    So what stops us from coming out? How do we rationalise this away? Here are a few things that may prevent people from my personal experience and work with clients.

     

    Fear of change

    Fear of change is probably being the biggest blocker for most changes, Whether or not we are looking at coming out, changing career, moving or ending a relationship. No matter how unhappy people are the fear of taking the leap into the unknown is enough to stop them.

    Change is scary but without it nothing will ever be any different. I remember waking up the morning after coming out to my parents and regretting it. I was scared because I did not know the rules anymore. I knew how to lie and manipulate the truth so they never found out. I did not know how to be open and honest with them. But in the longer term guess which option was less stressful and frustrating.

     

    They know anyway

    My rationale was always that I was 90% sure that my parents knew anyway, they had stopped asking about relationships and dating. It was the big pink elephant in the room that was not referred to. The 10% left was doubt because I had never discussed it and avoided the topic of conversation. The counsellor that I was working with at the time challenged me that if I was so sure why wasn’t I having the conversation. She was right; this was a very subtle form of denial. If we can avoid the situation then it does not need to be dealt with.

     

    Timing and circumstance

    Of course everybody has the right to do things at their own pace and circumstances. My fear of being outed was always around the fact that I felt it was my human right to have this conversation when I was ready. I had been confused as to what my actual sexuality was. When I was younger there were not a lot of positive role models around that I could identify with. To be a gay was to be effeminate and less of a man. That was how you were perceived and that didn’t fit with me. I was not confident in my sexuality or ready to have that discussion. Once I admitted to myself that I was gay, I knew that the conversation would need to happen

     

    They will hate me for lying to them

    I was 32, gay and hadn’t come out to my parents. I felt that I had gone past a reasonable amount of time where I could tell them. Aside from not telling them about my sexuality, I had close relationship to them. I was afraid that they would feel betrayed. The issue of me being gay no longer felt like a concern, the issue of me being a liar was very much present. When I came out to my parents I asked them if they felt this way, my dad had said it was my business and had I chosen not to tell them so he respected my privacy.

    So when it finally came down to it, all my reasons were blockers and negative thoughts. None turned out to be legitimate concerns. I appreciate that this will not ring true for everyone and I can’t tell you that it is an easy path to choose.

    But I can tell you this, I didn’t realise the weight I was carrying till it was gone. I respected myself a lot more for having been completely honest about the person I am and it has been the most liberating experience of my life. I know who I am now and so does the world.

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, it’s management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • COLUMN | Do the hustle

    For someone who has often led a colourful life, I can be incredibly naive at times. I blush a lot too, due to having fair colouring. Naivety can be sweet but it can also get you into a lot of unexpected trouble. One such example is Amsterdam. Naive people should steer clear of Amsterdam.

    I think it was around 2004 that I went there with my ex partner for a long weekend. For someone who’s in a couple and doesn’t much fancy smoking or eating dope, a lot of the usual delights are a little less than appealing but I went for the architecture and culture, honestly. We flew over and I was bemused to take my first ever budget airline flight. The in flight catering was mini tubes of Pringles, which tickled me and the stewardesses were wearing sweatshirts.

    I loved Amsterdam straight away. The hotel was roomy, if a little dated, the architecture was indeed beautiful and I really liked the giant phallic statue in Dam Square. The people were colourful and seemed laid back and cool, although we did get offered cocaine quite a lot as we walked about. It must have been something about the way I walk. We strolled about along canals, took in the Van Gough Museum and the Anne Frank House and had leisurely coffees outside. It was heavenly. It was autumn time and the leaves were turning brown and the canals looked romantic and picturesque. We did a little boat trip and were generally wholesome, mostly.

    I was perturbed by the bicycle riding epidemic. As I’ve mentioned before, I’ve never mastered riding a bike and think of it as witchcraft. There were many witches about. The trams were good fun though and full of fascinating looking eccentrics and oddballs. I quickly learnt never to stop and look at a map. This invariably summoned up a beggar who would initially behave as if he was performing a great public service and offering directions, followed by a request for cash, once he’d lulled you into a false sense of security.

    Being an inveterate people watcher, I loved the red light district at night. I found it utterly fascinating and was intrigued by the prostitutes with their tidy little cubicles and hygienic sinks and paper towels. I do like things clean. There seemed to be a definite pecking order with the prettier girls in tiny bikinis getting the more prominent windows and the gigantic Jabba the Hut types getting the more obscure ones. I’m not sure if there was a sliding scale of pricing or not. I didn’t like to ask. Equally intriguing were the men walking in and disappearing behind drawn curtains.

    We decided to try the Sex Museum, thinking it would be amusing and of course it was. We tittered at the antique sex toys, the Victorian porn (men had some fantastic moustaches in those days) and the gigantic penis in the entrance hall. The door with a warning to put off the easily offended puzzled me. On climbing the steps, walking in and spotting the pictures of a woman being remarkably overfriendly with an Alsatian, I realised that I do actually have some boundaries and am, amazingly, still capable of being offended. I scuttled out fast.

    I decided it would be fun to tour a few of the gay bars and had printed off a little guide. There were some amusing sights and a few which made me regurgitate a little. Lots of the bars had back rooms where men go to have sex. Naturally I peeked in. I can’t tell you what I saw as the hypnosis and the electro-shocks to the head have erased the grisly memories. It wasn’t pretty, is all I’m saying.

    There were two bars close together on the map, one advertised as a transvestite bar and another as a “hustler bar”. The transvestite bar was very friendly. I love a bad transvestite and was sadly disappointed to see a bevy of leggy beauties. Move along, nothing to chuckle at here. The bar man was a six foot Japanese boy in a long blonde wig and silver lame frock. I think he may have been 5 foot 2 without his heels and beehive hairdo. He was very chatty and kept a huge variety of items in his bra. They were having a little singsong and naturally, as the drink flowed, we were obliged to join in.

    I asked my ex what he thought a hustler bar was. He thought it was something to do with cowboys so I expected maybe a few chaps in chaps. I later recalled that that’s a rustler, not a hustler. I wondered if it was something to do with pool, thinking of the Paul Newman film. We were both wrong.

    The bar was long and narrow with a motley collection of dodgy looking older men perched on stools. The room went silent as soon as we entered and everyone stared at us. There was a moment a bit like the scene in “American Werewolf in London” when they enter The Slaughtered Lamb pub.

    Undeterred we headed to the bar for alcohol. At the end of the long bar was a raised platform with a pinball machine and couch and I was gratified to see a pool table. I felt vindicated and as ever, loved being right. I was wrong, of course. At the back of the bar was a curtained off doorway which I took to be the toilets. There were several youngish Eastern European blokes lolling about in provocative poses, languidly playing at playing pool, bending over the pinball machine or stretching out on the sofa. There were two free seats on the settee so I whispered to my ex that I was going to get us a seat on the platform.
    His hand shot out with lightening reflexes and grabbed my wrist: “That’s where the prostitutes sit.” He hissed. It dawned on me then what a “hustler” was and I blushed at my naivety. I’d almost put myself up for sale and I expect the lack of bids would have been embarrassing. I can just see myself now, the oldest prostitute, sitting alone on the couch, as the last boy was lead behind the curtain to the private rooms. We didn’t stay long. I hate to be upstaged.

  • OPINION | Is there a need to come out?

    Coming out as gay can be an apprehensive time of life. I’m sure most of you will be aware of that feeling of dread that becomes all-consuming when considering revealing your sexuality.

    What if people don’t accept it and your family disown you? What if you end up with no friends? Such questions spark a panic within, but then we take the plunge anyway with something along the lines of “Mum, Dad, I’m gay”. Should we have to come out though?

    My coming out was in a far less civilised manner than quietly announcing to my parents that I am gay. During an argument, my Dad asked me if I’m a queer. I shouted, “yes I f***ing am actually”. Drama ensued, but I won’t go into that right now for this is about the need to come out.

    The first time I began to debate this topic with myself was when I had not long come out. I spent weeks telling everyone I knew that I was gay and began to thrive on people’s reactions. But then one day one of my friends said “and…” when I excitedly told her I am gay. She could not care less. I was offended at the time as this was the first instance I had come across someone who didn’t react with excitement or horror to my big news. How dare she not be bothered, I thought. However, as it began to sink in I slowly realised that I actually appreciated her response. Being gay was not an issue to this person. She only cared about the person within; the heart and soul. I guess that is why I was her friend.

    From that moment I held back on telling people about my sexuality. I didn’t begin to hide it, but I would only talk about it if it was part of a conversation that involved discussing personal stuff. I considered the fact that I had not changed as a person and therefore it shouldn’t matter. Why should I be defined by my sexuality?

    That is how I carried on living my life until recently I began to change my opinion again. I have received a lot of press coverage recently due to organising my county’s first ever Pride event. I didn’t consider it at first, but the media coverage has been effectively outing me to the public. It made me feel slightly uncomfortable until I realised that it is probably a good thing for people to see a positive visible representation of a gay man in the paper or hear that on the radio, which brings me to answering the question; is there a need to come out?

    While not a profound need to reveal one’s sexuality, I do feel it is important to be visible. I am all for people having the right to keep their sexuality to themselves. That should be respected. But I do think it is important for people to open about their sexuality. It is only with increased visibility and openness that society and the world around us becomes a more tolerant place.

    If we didn’t have so many out people, would we be living in a generally tolerant society? I’m not sure that we would. With people remaining in the closet there would be no visibility. How can a society progress when it comes to something that can’t be seen? Of course, I’m looking at the bigger picture, but I see it as vital to always consider the bigger picture. To bring it down to a basic level and look at whether there is a need to come out to friends and family, then I think there is… for now.

    We still live in a world where everyone is assumed to be straight unless informed otherwise. Personally, I feel there is a need to come out if you are to have an open relationship with those close to you. How can there be a fruitful family relationship or friendship if a significant part of your being is kept a secret?

    Ultimately I believe in individual choice and people having the freedom to come out or not come out on their own terms. Surely the world would be a better place if everyone was out, though.

     

    Opinions expressed in this article may not reflect those of THEGAYUK, it’s management or editorial teams. If you’d like to comment or write a comment, opinion or blog piece, please click here.

  • COLUMN | Coming Out of the Broom Closest

    I’ve come out of two closets in my life. First through the rainbow-coloured door – coming out as gay. Then out of the broom closet – coming out as pagan.

    Every time I’ve come out as pagan, I get asked the same sort of questions. Here are some of those questions and my responses:

    What is it all about?
    Paganism is a nature-based religion, so as a pagan I have a reverence for nature. Paganism has a dual aspect of divinity – meaning we have both a god and goddess.

    This god and goddess duality symbolises balance that can be seen in all aspects of the world and universe. We cannot have life without death, happy times without sad times, etc.

    Unlike most other religions we don’t have a bible or other book that tells us what to believe. What pagans believe is much more individual to them. But the two big focuses in paganism are nature and individual responsibility for our own actions and omissions.

    Paganism has values that encourage equality, respect for all living beings and empathy for others, so generally pagans are very accepting of gay people. Acts of love, pleasure and beauty are important to pagans regardless of the sexuality or gender of those involved.

    Do you worship the devil?
    No…we actually don’t believe in a devil.

    Do you have a Church?
    Nature is our church. Some of us like to worship, celebrate and practice on our own; whereas others like to get together with other pagans.

    Covens are closed groups of pagans usually consisting of a maximum of thirteen people. They have a High Priestess and a High Priest as leaders of their group, kind of like priests/vicars. Coven members will teach one another what they know, including the initiates (those new to paganism). Rituals, rites, magic, music and dance will all be taught within the closed coven circle.

    Pagan moots are much more open. They are open to anyone and usually held at local cafes or pubs. Some moot organisers will arrange for talks on a range of pagan topics such as: herbs, crystals, healing, ghosts/other spirits, etc. Organisers usually ask for a donation or minimal charge to attend these fascinating talks.

    Is magic like that on Charmed? Or like Willow on Buffy The Vampire Slayer does?
    No…sorry. But it can be equally effective – it just works in a different way.

    Imagine I cast a Spell for money. Money won’t magically appear. But I might see a job that I can apply for that’s better paid than the one I’m doing.

    Just because I’ve cast the Spell, doesn’t mean the job is automatically mine! I still have to apply for the job, go to the interview and WOW the interviewers. I have to work hard to achieve my goals – like everyone else.

    What’s the difference between a Pagan, a Wiccan and a Druid?
    Paganism is a broad term to describe lots of different paths that have the same principle beliefs. Wicca, Druidism and others paths may have slightly different practices but share the same principle beliefs and are therefore are all encompassed under the term paganism.

    Think of it in terms of Christianity. Christianity is the over-arching term, but within that you have the Church of England, the Roman Catholic Church and many others all with the same principle beliefs but with slightly different practices.

    So you don’t celebrate Christmas?
    We have our own holidays, many of which coincide with Christian holidays. But our big celebration is Samhain or Halloween, which to pagans is like Christmas and New Year rolled into one.

    We are all individuals. Personally I celebrate Christmas with my family, because they do and because it’s a positive time for all. It’s the one time of year my family takes the time out to spend precious time together, to eat, drink and be merry – oh and of course there’s the presents!

    Where can I learn more?
    The best gay pagan book I’ve come across is Gay Witchcraft by Christopher Penczak. Christopher Penczak is a pagan gay man who wrote this for gay men. It even has a section on gay deities.

    Other non-gay books I’ve learned a lot about paganism from are: The Real Witches’ Handbook by Kate West, Elements of Witchcraft by Ellen Dugan,Witchcraft: Theory and Practice by Le De Angeles and Everyday Magic by Dorothy Morrison. There’s also a myriad of information on the internet –just do a Google search.

  • COLUMN | Auto Outed

    When it comes to being gay or straight acting, I definitely sit somewhere towards the more fabulous end of the continuum. Not that I approve of that whole gay/straight acting thing. However good you are at DIY or playing football; you’re not that straight acting with a cock in your mouth. Although, thinking about some of the straight men I’ve met over the years…

    I was a slightly effeminate child. When I say slightly effeminate, I mean that my idol was Wonder Woman and there was always ‘Girls’ World Styling Head’ written at the top of my Christmas wish list in pink glitter pen. I’m sure that I was auto outing myself with every sissy boy lisp and mince. This wasn’t a problem in infant and junior school but once I hit secondary school, I was the target of a fair bit of attention. It was usually the wrong sort of attention (the hostile kind), but I didn’t have to identify myself to any of the other children as being gay. They worked it out all on their own.

    There are pluses and minuses in every situation. As a teenager, I wished that I was less conspicuous and that people couldn’t tell so easily that I was gay. Now, I don’t care at all. I see positives. At least I don’t have to constantly come out to every new person I meet. They seem to work it out for themselves somehow. Maybe had I been able to hide the fact that I’m gay from the rest of the world then I’d be closeted and miserable somewhere; one of the legions of married men sating their desires in grubby public lavs. I’m thankful for small mercies.

  • OPINION | The Is Who You’ll Be

    I have checked my laptop; my tablet and my very smart phone repeatedly for reassurance and, finding them all in accordance with the wonders of GMT and the world wide inter webs, I am without doubt that the date is the 14th September and the year 2013.

    Of course, a further give away that I am abundant in technological times would be that none of these Space Age ‘Back to the Future’ play things existed in the middle ages, as, equally, neither did the word “homosexuality”; a term coined by a Hungarian physician sometime in the late 19th Century, a modern invention.

    Although, of course, homosexual “practices”, and as we all know “practice makes perfect”, were in mainstream existence since the times of the Ancient Greeks; our most famed and favourite philosophers of human principal, who deemed no reason to coin such a phrase of separation, but merely understood the relationship as a simple part of the ‘aphrodisia’, otherwise known as; ‘love’.

    So I find myself in a quandary as to why it is, that two centuries after homosexuality was first given a name, and many many years since love became an acceptable part of human existence, we are having to march down to the house of the man in charge with our hands in the air to fight for the general humanity that provides each individual with the right to be free.

    The answer to this question: Russia, and I cannot tell you how long I have waited to use the phrase “From Russia, No Love”…well, honestly; I can, approximately 2 years, but that is neither here nor there in the grander scheme of things; the man that wrote that sentence in words and then forced me to listen to a half hour dialogue about the ironic presentations of word plays within pop culture reference; was an idiot, but his point vaguely stands, though not for its intended use, but as equally as he was a moron the current situation of secreted hatred is moronical.

    A word I just coined; a modern invention.

    It seems ridiculous that this debate should even carry enough weight to build a sentence out of and yet, here we are again. And I find myself wondering; what is worse here?

    The fact that a country has even thought to make such a law or that every other country in the modern world isn’t screaming “what the what!” over a couple of beers in a gay bar before mocking the imbecile for their naive lack of mind.

    For what exactly is the crime here?

    That one person might fall in love with another person?

    That one person might have to suffer the same pain and heartache, the same joy and beauty as anyone else?

    That, size charts permitting, they can swap sweaters and share shoes?

    The truth of love is that no one; male, female, whatever the hell you are, chooses where their heart goes; because if you had that choice, chances are you’d hide in a tool shed at the bottom of your parents garden until your hormones had subsided enough that you might come in contact with another human being and feel nothing, because wherever your heart finds itself it will find a world of challenges; sufferings, confusions, upsets, compromises, problems, runaways and hide and seeks and that’s the beauty of love.

    No-one is safe from it.

    No-one is more or less worthy.

    We are all equal to the heart, we are all slaves to it, and we are all lucky to experience that one moment in life when you realise; “I am completely in love with you”.

    When the most basic rules of humanity dictate that every individual should be held in equal esteem to every other individual regardless of race; religion, sex or sexuality.

    That no one man or woman is more worthy of life; and therefore, of love, than any other.

    That we are all free to feel, to be, to move around the streets of this earth without fear from any other individual or group of individuals. And yet, here, in September 2013 we, as people of this world, are allowing directed segregation’s towards individuals whose crimes are charged as: “love”. And to continue to argue “Cultural Diversity”, is just not an admissible excuse to overlook injustices to a community of people who span every culture; every diversity, apart from anything else its a massive hypocrisy to permit injustice of human rights in the name of “acceptance” when the very nature of that condition is a rejection of an acceptance of human rights.

    So here we are, standing at the doors of Downing Street with our hands in the air asking for the truest thing, the most natural thing the world has ever known: the right to fall in love; to let that love live and to walk down the street holding its hand because there comes a time, in life, when we; as people, as individuals, have to accept that; “this is who I am and this is who you’ll be”.

     

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  • COLUMN | Be Brave

    I’ve never been a massive fan of dates let alone online dating.

    I normally prefer to meet guys at the end of the night in a club, when I’m a walking disaster, hair all over the place and if I try and eat the face off them like it’s my first meal since fasting for lent and they respond, at least I know they have seen me at my worst and it can only get better! None the less I still have Grindr and log on everyday although more through boredom than a longing for love.

    When discussing me getting back in the dating game a wise friend gave me some wise words – “be brave”, easy for him to say his last date was with a Terry’s chocolate orange and The Million Pound Drop. A few weeks ago I decided to follow his advice and go on a date with a guy who asked me from Grindr!

    We arranged to meet in Glasgow on the Sunday afternoon for coffee and naturally the night before I decided to prepare with two good pals and 6 bottles of wine. After spending most of Sunday morning hugging the toilet pan, I decided to re-arrange to meet in Wishaw’s prime dating venue for homosexuals, Wetherspoons, at 9pm.

    When I arrived 15 mins late him waiting outside looking less than amused he looked exactly like the pictures he had sent and had quite large hands. Great. We go inside he orders a soft drink and I order cider. The conversation is awkward, he tells me the first Canadian he ever met gave him maple syrup and it sticks in his mind, I try and inject some humour and reply “oh the first Canadian I ever met gave me herpes”. Silence, pan face, I smile, more silence until I declare I was joking. He nods his head. I decided since I was off the next day, I was going to make the most of the situation and order another drink. He watches BBC news on the TV as I play on Facebook. He did give me a lift home at the end of the night which saved me £4.25 on a taxi. Every cloud has a silver lining.

    Needless to say we won’t be seeing each other again and to be honest I should have known it wouldn’t work when he told me he had never seen Dirty Dancing. At least I’m back on the wagon and in the dating game again. Next time I will however have a check list — Sense of humour a must;big hands a bonus.

    I am forever hopeful.

    Be Brave!

  • COLUMN | The twilight world of the homosexual

    I went to the theatre yesterday and saw the brilliant production of The Pride at the Trafalgar Studios. It’s a play set in two eras, the present day and the 1950s with echoes of the historical horrors of the oppression of gay people versus echoes of what we have and don’t appreciate and the horrors of the oppressions we sometimes choose to inflict upon ourselves.

    It’s a fantastic play and I won’t say much more for fear of spoiling it if you want to see it. I’d highly recommend it.

    It made me ponder. Lots of things do. On talking to a friend recently we both laughingly talked about how being gay has become so much less exciting now it’s all out in the open and less clandestine. Both of us, jokingly, talked about how dull being gay is now and yearned for the secretive and furtive days when sex had an element of danger and there was a whole art surrounding the dangerous act of being a gay man.

    Secret languages, knowing looks and basement dive bars all sound so exciting and almost romantic. Visions of buttoned up men in three piece suits, speaking gruffly in clipped tones as they undress and whip out outsized vintage genitals in dinghy back parlours with scuffed linoleum are daring and thrilling.

    Nostalgia is so often skewed and we often yearn for something that didn’t exist. I imagine that the reality was far from my imaginings. There’s no joy in imprisonment, an inability to express yourself at all and terrors such as aversion therapy or being institutionalised and labelled as mentally sick and twisted simply for the way you were born. The joys of being rejected, vilified and hated are limited.

    If I look back at my own life without a veil of nostalgia fogging the truth, I recall churning anxiety and terror. Living with an older man at the age of 18 in 1989, I was three years below the archaic age of consent of 21. This actually caused us both hideous anxieties.

    On one occasion we had a burglary in the flat we lived in and were panic stricken about having the police round in case they realised we were lovers. I remember ignorance, bullying and no go areas of the city. I remember the boarded up windows of our small city’s gay bar. They couldn’t have glass because it would get broken at least once a week by marauding gangs of blokes. It was a common occurrence to be in the bar and the D.J. would suddenly turn up the music to drown out the sounds of a gang of blokes hammering on the boards and shouting abuse. I remember not daring to touch in the street or even to look into each other’s eyes for too long in a bar or cafe.

    I think I’ll try to keep my nostalgia in check for now. I suppose we have the best of both worlds now. The modern gay man can be more open, mostly (I’m not naive enough to believe that rampant prejudice doesn’t still exist and we’ve a long way to go yet) and live the life he chooses. He can also choose clandestine and dirty too; loitering round cruising grounds and risking arrest if that’s what floats his boat. Of course that’s a simplistic view. The reasons people choose to carry out dangerous acts are multi-factorial.

    For now, I’ll restrict my nostalgia to clothing and my collection of 50’s china and doff my cap in respect to all those who’ve gone before and made life better for me now. Now those 1950’s gays: they sure wore a mean cravat.