QColumn: A Gay In The Life: In Stereo

In Stereo
By Steve Prince
Why was I uncomfortable?
I mean, really. Here I am in Washington, D.C., marching in the National Equality March, with thousands and thousands of other LGBT people and I feel uncomfortable.
And what bugged me is that I wasn’t uncomfortable with all the other marchers; I felt annoyed that I was making myself feel uncomfortable.
A group of deaf transgender people marched by, their hands signing furiously and some chanting, “We will always fight, all we want is equal rights!”
And there came that feeling again; and I bristled with annoyance at myself once more. As the group of deaf transgender men and women walked by, my first thought was, “Trans people aren’t deaf.”

I know, completely fucking close-minded and ridiculous right? OF COURSE some trans people that are deaf. Why wouldn’t they be? I shook my head trying to dislodge it. My dumb thought left a bad taste in my mouth.
I kept marching while holding my sign. And not five minutes later, that annoying feeling came back to bite me in the ass—and NOT in a good way.
An even larger group of gay men, who were little people walked beside me, chanting their demands for equal rights.
“Really?” I thought. “Gay people who are little people?!”
And before I could berate myself, a group of straight Unitarians walked by holding signs saying “Support Love wherever it is found.”
“Are they really here for the right reasons?” I thought. “Straight people marching in a LGBT equality march?”
God dammit, Steve! Where were these thoughts coming from? I’m not a close-minded idiot… or am I?
Suddenly I wondered—if I didn’t want these thoughts in my head, where the heck were they coming from?
As I marched along, bewildered by my own ignorance, I passed a group of senior lesbian and bisexual women.
“Wow,” I thought smiling, “I’ve never seen lesbians that old before.”
And then it hit me… I’ve never seen lesbians that old.
Whenever I go out with the boys at home in West Hollywood, what type of people do I see? Mostly buff, young, white gay men with diversity nowhere to be found. “Wow,” I thought, “how stereotypical of me.”
I remember when I first came out; I was obsessed with Banana Republic. I spent so much money on nice clothes and made sure I always dressed to the nines.
This went on for about two years and then I realized I didn’t need to dress well to be gay. I know that might sound silly, but that’s what I thought when I first came out. Being in school, and in Texas—before Will & Grace and Queer as Folk—I never saw any images of gay men. But I knew very well what straight people said about gay men.
They said that gay men are good dressers, gay men always go to the gym, gay men have sex with different partners all the time, gay men love musical theatre and Madonna, gay men are more emotional than straight men, and the list goes on and on… I know this might sound stupid and foolish, but this was the only definition I had of what it meant to be gay… so I embraced it. I became this “gay” person out of fear of not being anyone at all.
Also, I thought there always had to be a “man” or a “woman” in a same-sex relationship. Or that someone always had to be a “top” or a “bottom.” Someone had to fill the masculine role and someone had to play “the mom.”
I also thought about how the media portrays most gay men as as hot, young, and white. Looking around the march, I saw so many older LGBT folks, yet I never see them represented in any ads.
Then, as I continued my I march, I realized that even after all these years of being out, I was still being infected by stereotypes back home in Los Angeles. It’s maddening. Sometimes I seem immune to peoples’ pre-conceptions about my being white and gay, especially when it’s blatant and in my face. When someone says or thinks something homophobic about me, I get pissed off. Also I know that they’re usually closed-minded and I don’t accept that sort of thinking in my life. It’s their fear—not mine.
But still, apparently that “bullshit thinking” sometimes creeps up on me and infiltrate my thoughts without my knowing.
It reminds me of a parasite that has taken hold without my even knowing it. It’s as if the negative thought bubbles up in my brain with no indication of its even coming. Like suddenly waking up one morning with the flu, yet you felt tip top when you laid your head down the night before, but then you suddenly feel crummy and don’t know why.
It’s shocking how infected our minds can become with other people’s ideas of what we should be.
As soon as I realized this, that uncomfortable feeling went away. Those closed-minded ideas of who should be at this march got teased apart by just seeing such eclectic groups marching together.
During the march, I met people of every kind of race, religion, handicap, height, weight, and region that you could think of. And there were tons of teens there too.
As I watched a group of high school boys and girls walk by, I almost teared up watching them chant and hold signs. I don’t know if I could have done that when I was in high school. Their bravery awed me. Again, I often thought of a gay activist as someone who was at Stonewall, someone well into their 40’s and 50’s. But these teens were definitely activists. I saw the passion and drive in their faces. Wow, I wondered if they looked at me and thought the same thing. Could they have?
It’s so very important for LGBT people to broaden their worlds and meet others. It seems that often we can become laden with society’s homophobic expectations and make them our own. Meeting and experiencing all these different people made me realize just how often LGBT people break down preconceptions while being true to ourselves.
Suddenly, the march took on a new meaning. It’s purposed wans’t just to make the straight community acknowledge LGBT people for their identity and contributions. The march was also a catalyst for me to see my queer family as it actually is and love them even more for their differences.
Later on that afternoon, I stood on Capitol Hill and listened to the speakers invigorate the crowd with their rhetoric of hope. Beside me, a black transgender man began to cry, obviously moved by the speaker. I put my arm around this stranger and hugged him tightly. As a tear rolled down my own cheek, the final realization hit me. This man and I are deeply connected by our similarities; our differences are only weak threads that can entangle us only if we let them.
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Years after moving from Oklahoma, Steve Prince is still acclimating to the gay scene in Los Angeles—he’s a slow learner. By trial and error and a lot of sex, his mission is to make the uncomfortable, comfortable. Also it should be known that he is gayer than butt sex.
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Previously, on A Gay In The Life:
The Birds and The Birds
Lyin’, & Twinks, & Bears—Oh My!
Going Public
Christmas in July
Luck Be A Lady Tonight
I Left My Heart In Oklahoma
As Luck Would Have It
Shock & Awe
Blame It On Britney
The Unending Journey
Makin’ Copies
Bullets and Bracelets… and Lube
To Tell The Truth…
Stars Aren’t Blind
The Dark Knight
Come As You Are
A Date?
A Happy Ending
Better Than Nothing
A Man With A Slow Hand
Taking The Long Way
Everybody Knows
Wake Me Up, Before Ya Go-Go
Definition
The Best
The Upper Hand
Hit Me With Your Best Shot
2000-Date
Dick The Halls
The Queer Dear
A Night At The Museum
A Conversation
I’m Just A Girl Who Can’t Say No
Change The Way You Feel
Kissing A Fool
Leo The Lamb
The Elephant In The Room
Zuckerman’s Famous Pig
A Birthday Surprise
The Sleepover-er
SP Phone Home
Out of the Frying Pan and into the Closet
What If…
Just Beat It
Intimate Portrait
Intimate Portrait (Part Deux)
Intimate Portrait (Part Trois)
State of Mind
The Age of Disbelief
A Man For All Seasons
Summer Lovin’
A-Men
The Urge
Gettin’ It Done
Here You Cum Again
Eye Of The Beholder
The Present
A Minute’s Pause
Brotherly Love
Ladies Who Lunch
Here Cums The Rain Again
Dinner For Two
Blow by Blow
Commando
Cum As You Are?
Aftershock!
Caught in the Act
The Great Compromise
The Tipping Point
Cross Country