Warning: Although I still have a lot of funny left in me, today's post is my once-in-a-long-while serious post. Maybe I just have to get it out of my system.
The other day, one of the hostesses at work said something that has gotten itself stuck in my craw: "If you hadn't told me you were gay, I would never have known."
I hear that pretty often, relatively speaking, and I should be used to it.
I first heard it from my very first true fag hag, Janel. Janel and I first met in Room 23 at the KDR house at the U of I when she was on her first date with Dan (who became one of my best friends in the house) and I was at my first pledge rush event (I was a naive little boy who didn't even know what "getting rushed" meant). That's a lot of firsts. When Janel told me, "I had no idea at all and I don't think anyone else could guess," I took it as a compliment.
Looking back, I put a lot of energy into a lot of different pursuits, one of which was trying to convince myself that I was some kind of normal. I worked just as hard to live up to some perverse ideal of normal (not exceptional, just normal) as I did in every other area of my life. To think that I passed in and out of some of the most homophobic circles on campus (ROTC frat brothers, conservative religious student teaching instructors/professors, fraternity life and intercollegiate athletics...did I miss anything?) filled me with a kind of pride that is anything but today. If i could convince the uber-straights that I was normal, then maybe I would be. So the "I would never have guessed you were gay" filled me with an uber sense of pride and...relief.
When I finally decided to start opening up to my closest friends and allies (90% of the time they were one in the same), I found myself needing to hear that I had succeeded at concealing all things gay from the people that knew me best. To use all the gay buzzwords: I was coming out while taking pride in my fabulously successful closet. What a horrible psychological mess.
Nowadays, I have a better (but still not perfect) understanding of the role that being gay has in my life. And its usefulness in comic relief. It can be funny. Really funny
Over the past six years or so, I've had mixed emotions about hearing variations on the theme. I've heard similar phrasings in different area of my life: work, play, sports, old friends, new friends, etc etc. While the intentions differ as much as the contexts, I'm more than hesitant to point out that it's...well...not the best thing one can say. Honest? Yes. Entirely appropriate? Not really. I know people mean well. I really do. And I appreciate the good/great intentions.
But, I finally came to the realization that I'm uncomfortable and, depending on the context, offended to hear any variation of the theme. Of course, context means a lot. But, when someone just walks up to me and says, "You know, you don't seem gay at all," it's not that I don't know what to say. I'm just trying to suppress the need to throw a nutty. A really big nutty. A more intense version of the nutty I would throw if I ever heard: "You know, you don't act Black."
Now, I understand that part of the problem is that "HMSXL 101: Introduction to Conversing With Homosexuals" was not offered at any (well, maybe a few) American school prior to about 2000. There's no social convention to fall back on.
We learned how to talk to waiters in restaurants by watching our parents and other people when dining in restaurants. We learned how to flirt with the opposite sex by watching TV and experiencing the messes that were junior high dances. We learned how to have appropriate, polite conversation about current events from our high school social studies classes.
But, except for people that fall into a few fortunate categories, anyone older than 25 grew up completely unfamiliar with any point of reference for discussing sexual orientation. There was normal (heterosexual) and...well...um...ok....there's...uhh....something your parents will talk to you about. But, very few parents had or wanted the luxury of a handy homosexual to converse with appropriately around us children. Until (in chronological order) The Real World (up to but not beyond New Orleans), Will & Grace and Queer Eye, there was no model for discourse with Nancy or any Friend Of Dororthy.
I will admit that I didn't know anything either. I didn't know that "homosexual" was out and "gay" was in...sometime around 1980, I guess. I didn't know what to say to the first homo I met...well...er, um...had a conversation with. "How bout them Bears?" No. That's got a whole other meaning. How was I supposed to know? How is anyone supposed to know? By being around homosexuals. Apparently, patient homosexuals helps as well. I mean gays. I mean gay people. I mean gay or lesbian person. Well, LGBT. Or, LGBTQ? Hell, what am I supposed to know what they look like? Oh wait, that's not appropriate. Or is it? I don't know either. This is too hard. I mean difficult. I'll pass. Can I have Greek Mythology for $200?
So, I guess everything turns into a big joke with me anyway. But, I'm still left with the gnawing feeling of frustration in being forced to accept the consolation prize. They meant well. How can you be angry at someone who means well? Ask me how I feel about the Democratic National Committee's position on same-sex marriage.
