Tag Archives: gay perspectives

Beards, Bisexuals, & Busybodies: The Schematics Of Staying In The Closet

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So today I came across the video that’s making the rounds in the gay community of the remarks made by television host and radio personality Wendy Williams. Known for a very blunt, sometimes crass commentary that seems controversial, today her comments about gay men that date women for years before coming out of the closet illicit a very strong and quite visceral reaction from Williams.

It all started after she was asked about the ex-fiancé of Jason Collins, the NBA player that came out of the closet and sparked a huge debate about being gay and being involved in professional sports. Williams felt that Collins had implied that Collins cheated this woman out of eight years of her life. Known to what many call a beard, or a woman that either knowingly or unknowingly is in a relationship with a gay man that is still in the closet, and in this case, Collins omission about his sexuality was hurtful. That even though the struggles he went through were important, he and any other closeted man should not involve other woman that want to one day have families into that situation.

During this sound bite there was one quote made by Williams that really stuck out for me and I haven’t been able to move past it because it angered it me as it seems so dismissive to what we fear as gay men:

“The one thing that irks the hell out of me is a deceptive closeted closeted man”

To sum it up Williams was making the argument that she was somewhat sympathetic to the plight of men still in the closet and the struggles that it has on an individual but we should know better than to bring someone else into it and deceiving them which results in them losing years of their life. Later on in this candid interview, Williams also inferred to the legitimacy of bisexuality as questionable and that it was not something she.

So is staying in the closet deception? No, I don’t or at least not in the way Williams referenced the term. I’d like to remind Williams that first off, there are no winners in the scenarios of closeted men that chose to be with women but that it is a very delicate subject. Because being in the closet is not only a psychological and emotional dilemma, but can manifest into a physical one as well. The fear of being judged, persecuted, even having your life threatened making you have to constantly be on alert to if anyone around can detect it.

Being in the closet is not about deception as the term is to maliciously withhold information to use against someone. Being in the closet is the time in which we deal with accepting our sexual nature and how society still wants us to conform to some form of heteronormative practices. Its basis has been and will always be about fear. Fear of what judgments can await us from our loved ones, security with our jobs/careers, and those that may try to harm us. This is about protecting ourselves, and in some cases that does mean our very lives.

But we cannot be unsympathetic or dismissive to how it affects the women in these relationships once the man they once believed was straight, a man they once believed desired them sexually, may not have been sexually attracted to her. That she may feel that she was being used as a protective shield around this man’s life all the while whatever dreams she had of commitment and family was not the same schematic blueprint of family that he envisioned. It’s true that he could have had some sexual desire as sex does not always equate to attraction, or that he too wanted to build a family the same way she did and truly wanted to make the relationship work. He may have even loved her but sexual orientation was the thing that made it not work.

And these women have the right to feel sad, hurt, even cheated out of time because in truth that is what has happened. It’s not easy to say but they too are a causality of these circumstances that compels a man to stay in the closet. But I won’t call this deception so much as I see it as two people that were unable to make it work because they are too different. Because this man felt like the only way he could have a family was to subscribe to what our society tells a man how he should act, who he should be sexually attracted to, and who he can love.

This is a touchy subject, but the one thing that I feel Williams and others with opinions like hers need to take into account that instances like this are driven by a deep sense of fear that is sometimes so crippling you do everything in your power to mask any signs of it. One may even begin to convince themselves that you can be sexually attracted to a woman and have sex, that you can build a family, and that you can fall in love until you one day are finally able to see that it is not enough to pretend to believe just to make it so. It’s fear.

Williams also made a snide reference that Collins partner should have been able to pick up on his sexuality, like some animal that is roaming for prey and that frustrated me as well. Because of this busybody mentality, she’s no better than any other bigot shouting slurs at us from across the street. It infers that gay looks or acts a certain way when it does not. Sexual identity is more than any stereotypical paradigm to be identified. And inferences like this puts blame on the woman because it says “she should have known better” when none of this is her fault. So incredulously, Williams insulted the very gender she so flippantly tried to defend.

What would be beneficial in preventing things like this from happening is talking more about our experiences and to stop shaming homosexuality. Comments about the legitimacy of bisexuality don’t help matters at all. It is not about “easing your way into being gay to hold on to some masculinity  It’s biology and the one thing we’ve learned from that is that it is all shades in nature. Just like skin color, sexual identity comes in all different shades with varying degrees.

Williams should also remember that since she herself is a part of the problem as she loves to sensationalize the potential sexuality of some of the celebrities she talks about. She makes endless speculations on whether or not someone is gay adding the note of scandal for her viewers to buy into and she profits from it. She may not know it, but doing this infers that it is somehow wrong and shames the men and women that may be struggling in this situation.

None of this is fair to anyone in the situation. I hope that those of us who are out and proud can show the men and women that are still in the closet, still living in fear that they don’t have to be trapped anymore. That our community is growing with love and support that will stand by them. Hopefully those that make scandals out of homosexuality like Williams can see that they’re only adding to a very difficult situation.

Brushes With Death To Taking First Breaths: My Final Tale Of Growing Up Gay

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It’s 2:05 in the morning and I can’t sleep. It’s been a long day like any other Monday but I’ve been feeling off. Completely tense, short tempered and just all around moody. So I wanted to catch up on current events and decided to read some of the latest LGBT news to see if there was anything I missed. Then I came across the story of Bailey O’Neill, the 12 year old boy that died this weekend after being beaten into a coma by some schoolyard bullies and the story of Marco McMillian, the openly gay mayoral candidate beaten to death in Mississippi.

My heart sank for them and their families and it made all the feelings of this day feel even worse because of the emotional quicksand I felt I’d been in the entire day. And then I remembered that it’s the first Monday in March, and all these memories came flooding back on why this particular Monday is so important to me. In 2005 on the first Monday in March was the day I almost died  and the day I finally came completely out of the closet. So I decided to finally follow up with the first two in this series by adding the last part of the growing up gay stories with the one that was the most defining moment in my life.

This all took place it was my first year off campus and it was a rough emotional one for me. It wasn’t the course load or tensions with the professors. It was because I had been deeply affected by the events of last year on campus. I was full of brooding and angst because I wasn’t out yet and so many times I had come close. Even though the most important people in my life, my parents, knew that I was gay I still felt the entire time that I was not living authentically. And with as much as a Resident Adviser and a friend that I always advocated for others to live in this example, I felt like a hypocrite because I was not doing the same.

My friendships with some became strained and I was steadily distancing myself from everyone. Maybe I did that on some conscious level to prepare myself for any potential fallout from anyone, though I felt like many silently knew.  The year progressed and I became somewhat stabilized until Valentine’s Day, when I lost an old friend of mine. Her death devastated me and I was completely heartbroken and an emotional wreck because I felt that I should’ve been able to prevent it somehow. I went through the remainder of my last year on campus in a fog of disbelief instead of savoring the last few months until “real” adulthood.

I carried some of the numbness and pain of that year onto my first year off campus but with all of that my not formally being out was the biggest thing on my mind. It had all but consumed me to the point that I welcomed any distractions that did not pertain to my dilemma. I was angry and sad all the time because I keep stalling this all out. It didn’t help matters because I felt that things had not been resolved with the man I had been seeing off and on since my freshman year of college. He had moved away and I missed him terribly but we still were in touch. But that only seemed to make the pain of us not being together even greater, And when he came to visit I was speechless that he had already came out since his graduation.

He questioned me on why I hadn’t done so, and as the nature of our relationship I still wouldn’t confirm it. So all his questions were met with a longing stare as a few tears strewn down my face. Again I tried to reconcile why I couldn’t do it. Maybe it was because I felt I had to embrace my race because of the covert, institutionalized racism that exists in the south. I feared that being of both two minority groups (African American and gay) would result in me being bombarded with acts of hate and judgment. That no matter who much I tried to show how I was so many other things than my race and my sexuality, it wouldn’t be enough.

Instead of not giving a damn what everyone else thought I felt that I had to sacrifice and suppress one aspect of myself in order to be seen as a real person beyond stereotypes and labels. The dichotomy would be something I would treasure later for the unique perspective it gives me but back then I still felt it wasn’t enough. At least that was the excuse I was using. So I thought if I waited until I was in a more diverse place after school would be better. But I wasn’t lying about it anymore by pretending to be attracted to women and become a pro at playing the pronoun game. So I was taking my time and doing it my way, as usual. But I didn’t have much time left as my health started to decline. I’d only eat a portion of what I used to and I kept losing weight.

And then I got the flu or what I thought was the flu. I couldn’t keep anything down. I lay in bed for nearly two weeks thinking I had the same bug going around. But eventually it started to hurt, a lot. the pain was dull at first, then cramping, then sharp agonizing pain. So my roommate took me to the hospital and after a two hour wait they gave me some Milk of Magnesia and sent us on our way. I cried for most of the night because this was by far one of the most painful things I had ever felt. I think I somehow drifted off to sleep from the sheer exhaustion of this ordeal. It was early that morning that I woke up and the pain was prolific. I could barely breathe and my stomach was protruding so far it looked as if I were in my third trimester of pregnancy. I ran to roommate’s room and as soon as he saw my stomach he grabbed his keys not needing anymore explanation.

We arrived at the hospital and they went to examine me. My blood pressure was dropping so they rushed me to another examination room that had an x-ray so that they could see what was going on. I remember looking at the clock as it said 915. They took me back to the previous room and I kept hearing doctors being paged. They brought in more fluids and a bag of blood because apparently I was too low. More nurses rushed in and I noticed there was a group of doctors all talking to my doctor. Then he came in and told me I had to have surgery immediately. I asked why and he said my organs were shutting down and handed me a phone to call my parents. I asked why again and he said “just in case” and darted out to prep for surgery.

I couldn’t focus and was too afraid to dial the phone so my roommate did. He tried to explain but my mom insisted that she talk to me. I tried masking my voice so she wouldn’t think I was scared, but mothers always know better. She told me to stay strong and that she loved me and it took everything I had not to lose it. Seconds later they said it was time to go and the machines were making more noises but when the nurse said that I couldn’t hear anything else. it was 922. This was serious. As they were wheeling me down for this surgery I stared up at the fluorescent lights and thought about how much I loathed them. time slowed and all of these never-ending questions about being gay popped into my head.

Why was this haippening. Why didn’t I pay attention to all this. What if I don’t make it. What if I die right here. What if I never see him again to tell him I love him and always will. What about my mom. What if..this is punishment…if it is then why did God make me this way. Why didn’t I live my life the way I wanted to. What if people never knew the real me. Why didn’t I tell everyone who didn’t already know I was gay. Why did I wait so long..Why

Then the next thing I knew I was waking up. I looked around and wondered if the surgery had taken place and then I wondered if I was having some out of body experience and then I let myself wonder if I was dead. and I freaked out. I started pulling at the sheets and screaming out of being so scared and disoriented. The machines were violently screaming as loud as I was and the nurses appeared from nowhere with several needles and within seconds I was out; I woke up looking at florescent lights as I was being wheeled down the hall. I started thinking I was dreaming again and everything that just happened was some drug hallucination and I was crying again and calling out for my mom and we turned the corner and she was there with my dad and my roommate.

I have never cried so hard in my life seeing her blue green eyes look at me, telling me that it was okay and to calm down. All it did was make me cry harder.  They wheeled me to my room and hooked up more machines and gave me more drugs to calm me down because I was aching all over. The doctor came in to tell that my appendix had ruptured and because it become septic my organs began to fail but I didn’t care about what he was saying. The fact that I was alive and with the people that loved me most was all that mattered. I didn’t care how close I came to death because I was alive.

After some time had passed I grabbed my mom’s hands and told her that I was going to be open to everyone else about being gay and she was of course fine with it. I told myself that if I pulled through this I was going to completely be who I was. And if. When people asked I would tell them. I asked my roommate to give me my phone and while he and my parents went to go get coffee I checked my voicemail out of habit and found out about another friend that had killed himself because he was gay. we were the same age and both of us had to face the darkest parts of humanity. But he was gone.

For a moment I felt so guilty because moments ago I was so elated about being alive in that moment. I sat there and let a few tears fall before collecting myself and scrolled down to the man that I had been unable to confess the truth to several months ago. Since death had been trying to say something to me twice in one day I finally decided to listen. It gave me the courage to be open publicly about who I have always been. Gay. And I have never felt so free in my life. I called the man I had loved all of my adult life at 1137pm on that first Monday in March and told him that I had almost died that day, that I was gay, and that I loved him.

Even with how hard it is to write all this down and share my most personal story it’s even harder for me to think of people suffering and feeling that they don’t belong in this world because of who they are. That maybe if I share my story, all of my story, it will encourage others to do the same so that people that are gay will avoid the missteps that I took and never have to endure what I went through. That they read stories like this and it makes them think of the kids that have it even worse than I did. That it may speak to those that felt like they have no support and are relentlessly bullied. So maybe those that feel insecure about who they are don’t feel the need to torture other kids for something they hate about themselves that they shouldn’t hate.

So maybe give that one kid perspective that even when you literally have no reason to believe that it will get better that if you hold on, that it does get better. You see today could have also been a very sad day for my parents. Instead of them talking to me on the phone they could’ve been laying some anniversary flowers at a gravesite and that makes me think of all the parents like those of Bailey, Tyler Clementi, Matthew Sheppard, and so many others that do or will now have these sad heartbreaking anniversaries. I don’t want us to lose another human being this way.

I do not want another soul to feel fear that they cannot embrace and love who they are. And if sharing our lives can get one person that is going through this to think then they will have served their purpose. The only way we can change the world is when we are willing to look at our own lives and question what we could be doing differently. And I am grateful that I was able to have the opportunity to tell others to ask themselves to realize that we do not have forever to be who we are today. And how much strength and love is waiting for you when you are ready to embrace who you are.

Are You A Gold Star Gay?

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Do you ever just sit back and laugh at some of the ridiculous things we call ourselves? How, for some reason we have this incessant need to define and categorize every single thing we say and do? Maybe it’s just me but I do this..but that may also be due to the fact that it doesn’t take me much to laugh and try my damnedest to stay in a constant state of zen. Which brings me to today’s topic; do you know what a “gold gay” is and if so, are you one?

A gold gay is typically defined in our community as a gay man that never had a period of time being with a woman (romantically, sexually, horizontally, etc.,.) Now I try very hard to stay on top of the lingo and latest sayings because often I don’t have the privilege to be in heavily gay populated areas but this one caught me off guard when someone asked me this last year.

It was at a doctor’s appointment and this guy, who I must say was absolutely beautiful, struck up a conversation. And of course we did the  “20 ambiguous questions you ask to see if someone you like is gay” before we delved any deeper into the conversation. It was all platonic (unfortunately)  and since the wait was so long it went in further detail.

As this Adonis began to quiet down from laughing at a horrible joke I told he said “you didn’t strike me as a gold gay” I didn’t know how to respond because I didn’t know what that meant, and all I could do was keep internally questioning what my next move should be (even though I probably didn’t have a chance in hell with this guy but I was still going to try) so I made the WORST facial expression I’ve ever made. And then after the sheer embarrassment I asked what it meant. Then I went into my whole spiel, similar to this article about useless definitions, and the conversation kinda stopped there.

It wan’t shame because I in fact am not a gold gay, but simply because I didn’t know what the term meant. And after a while, as I always do, I wanted to know if I wasn’t deserving of gold star status, do I get a silver star? I mean more often than not, you’ll find that most gay men have been with a woman and it’s for various reasons so I dare not speculate why this happens with us. It could be to fit in with society or because of genuine attraction so it varies.

I will note that the term gold gay seems to be used more with the younger adult spectrum of our community. Because being gay is more accepted and there was no need to hide who they are and felt at more liberty to fully express that than those of us that grew up in the 90s or earlier. That’s why I don’t think it’s an elitist term to shame the rest of us. We should feel pride for those that have been able to be out from the beginning because to me that symbolizes progress of acceptance in our society.

My point, and I use the term point loosely, is that sometimes with the various labels we give ourselves like, twink, bear, otter, furry, wolf, packers, tops, power bottoms, verse, leather daddy, bondage buddies, skimslims, sweet panther, gingermanspice (my favorite) gold star gay or any of the other hundreds of made up terms are just for fun. Sometimes, if you look expansively enough, these names show the great diversity that resides within our community. They have no malicious connotation whatsoever and are merely to admire and give attention to. However if someone is ever bothered by them, respect that and they don’t have to give you their reasons why. Just respect that.