Feminine gay man
Artwork by Christopher Ikonomou (Xe/He)
I experienced homophobia within my first two weeks at UCLA — a surprise considering Chancellor Gene Block deemed UCLA no place for discrimination in his new undergraduate student welcome speech.
I was first belittled for the way I speak — the slang I use, the relative pitch of my voice, and my energetic inflections — by two guys who were talking to one of my roommates. As I joined the conversation, they picked up on my stereotypically feminine voice. They mimicked me, repeating what I said in high-pitched voices while laughing at each other. When my roommate called them out, they got defensive and denied any bigoted intentions.
Later that week, I saw one of the guys in the hallway outside of the floor’s lounge. As I passed by, he asked me how I was doing in a way that I felt was overly cordial considering our previous meeting. I ignored him, and as I turned the corner to my dorm, he said, “Yeah, fuck you!” while someone that was standing with him followed me around the corner and watched me penetrate my room.
After, I sat at my desk, shocked.
I saw him again while passing through the lounge, in the stairwell, at the other end of the
As the mainstream image of what a gay man is continues to morph into more of a hero and less of a victim, we persist to cast our most handsome, athletic and masculine men in the head roles of the gay movement. As our rainbow fades to pastel, community now understands that gay men can be just favor the rest of mainstream society. Our community has a new cast of gay heroes who place our most chiseled, scruffy-jawlined faces forward for everyone to see. From TV stars favor Wentworth Miller to athletes like Jason Collins, the earth now knows that we can be strong and manly and fit right in with the rest of the boys. But there is a diverse kind of power that has always existed within same-sex attracted culture, although it might not appear in the establish of bulging muscles and bass voices.
Unlike his masculine counterpart, the effeminate lgbtq+ man doesn't contain the luxury of hiding behind a butch façade until he is easy with coming out of the closet. You know the type. He can learn the choreography to the latest pop song more quickly than you can learn the lyrics. In tall school he had to make a beeline for his car the minute the bell rang so that he could avoid the worn-out name calli
Growing up gay, a lack of visible role models made experience confusing. When looking to clip and television to help me to understand myself, I immediately saw that gay characters were often the butt of the joke. Either that, or they were on the periphery, magically appearing when a central nature needed a shoulder to blubber on, a sassy pep chat or a fashion makeover. Outside the shallow, one-dimensional trope of the “gay best friend”, other queer characters – such as Andrew Van De Kamp from Desperate Housewives or Teddy from the 2008 television remake of 90210 – didn’t feel relatable to me at all. The only thing that impossibly masculine Teddy and I (an effeminate, skinny teen who lacked his chiselled jawline) had in common was our joint attraction to men.
A decade on, LGBTQ+ representation has increased significantly. In the last year, films such as Call Me By Your Name and Love, Simon have centred gay love stories. Yet while the existence of these films is undoubtedly a step forward, cinema shows no sign of ending its affectionate affair with traditionally masculine homosexual men.
“Straight acting” and “masc” are terms that come with significant baggage in gay culture. Widely circulat
Gay Men and Femininity: The Horror
Why are there so many hair stylists who are gay? Why are our homes so often featured in interior style magazines?
Why are we often the tastemakers of the fashion industry?
Why is there an entire décor resale website named “Previously Owned By A Gay Man”?
Is there a special lgbtq+ “taste” gene yet to be discovered?
Alan Downs, in his popular book The Velvet Rage, argues that the reason that male lover men are overrepresented as leaders in these industries is that we’ve had to become masters of hiding. As kids our true selves did not get validated, and so we learned to build the appearance of beauty as way to cloak our “unbeautiful” selves from the world. “We’re experts in making things and people look good,” writes Downs.
It’s an interesting theory, and one that would be hard to demonstrate or disprove. I hold no idea if it’s true. However, I perform think The Velvet Rage is the most significant book we have on gay men’s development.
What I love about the novel are the first several chapters where he validates, with hard-hitting language, the challenges of growing up as a gay lad in a straight family. You will feel seen and heard in these chapters. They w