When I was in graduate school I went to lunch with the school’s GLTB liaison. She commented that I was one of the few (if not only) gay people who went to lunch with her. It was such an odd statement I had to ask “Why?”
She said wryly, “The gay people are afraid to be seen with me because they don’t want to be seen as gay. The straight people don’t care.”
I figured that she was just a poor dining companion. Then I learned (and remembered).
I was openly gay in college in the late 80s and early 90s. Scarily, for a large portion of the time I was the only openly gay person at my college. I was able to call myself “The Queen” without anyone challenging the title. The lack of competition for the title was truly disappointing. Where’s the fun when you can’t sabotage your competition? I was studiously ignored by every gay male on campus. Even worse, they’d say absolutely horrible things about me and homosexuals in general. We used to call these people “Fag Screamers,” people in the closet who would denigrate other GLBT people to avoid suspicion. Then you’d see them in a restroom stall with a “wide” stance.
Even in more “progressive” areas and fields the pattern repeated itself. I was once told that someone questioned my ability to teach in graduate school because I was “too gay.” This was never said by openly gay men. I could mention the fact that the offending person was in a not-so-secret gay relationship with another man in the closet. But I won't.
When I finished graduate school and became a full-time faculty member, I noticed that the gay people avoided me like a second-hand Armani Exchange pullover. People I would later see the few times I went out to the gay bars. Even more amusing, these were often the people in the “gayest” professions possible. I’ve been invisible to hairstylists, decorators, musicians, church organists, dancers, theatre personnel and clothing designers. Often, they were so fey I looked like a trucker who lumberjacks on the side.
Frankly, that’s one of the reasons I stopped going to gay bars. It feels odd when you have a clowder of queers purposefully not looking at you. Invisibility, I have found, rarely allows you to meet quality people. My mother, who was an avid musician and theatre participant said she had never met a gay person before I came out. The level of denial required aside, I sometimes believed her. Maybe it’s genetic invisibility?
I have to admit though, I sometimes would’ve preferred being ignored. I don’t know why people think fag screaming works, but they try it anyway. We’ve all seen the stories (particularly among conservative republican politicians) where the rabid homophobe gets caught worshiping at the wrong altar. I have rarely seen someone obsessed with the “evil” patterns of gay people not later get caught out.
I discovered that closeted people are mean. If they said nothing, I could tolerate it. Instead they look for ways to sabotage. It’s like they want to say “I’m so not gay that I torment gay people.” I could speculate about internalized homophobia. I could smile sadly and mutter “poor little fag screamer.” It’s rarely any solace when people attack you. Over and over, again I have had conflicts with people who are dreadfully afraid anyone will think they might be gay. Whether or not they are frankly is irrelevant. It gets even more frustrating as time goes on. Over 20 years after I first came out, it’s still often toxic. So here's the question:
How many positive gay role models does it take to change a light bulb?
I don’t know, but the light bulb has to stop hating them first.
