|
I am intimately concerned with how gay men are portrayed and
represented. I am constantly challenged by the accepted, the
wanted image of gay men. I am painfully reminded that I fall
outside the West Hollywood or Castro mold. Again, our supposed
pride and our supposed unity is undercut by our damage. Our
world is rife with unattainable images and idealized expectations.
So much so that millions of men and women destroy their minds,
spirits, and bodies in the hopes of becoming the perfect American.
I, myself, have been swept up into the rat race. Only very
recently have I dealt honestly with my body image and my
internalized Abercrombie & Fitch ideals. So honestly in fact
that in a cathartic moment of journaling I openly admitted my
over a decade long bout with bulimia.
Luckily, today, my behavior, my relationship to food, my body
psychology has slowly been changing for the better. I no longer
use purging as way to cope with my insecurities. But the anxiety,
the fear, the shame lingers. I'm putting that ghost to rest as
I speak. It has been scary to look back, across over a decade,
to see how completely dysfunctional I have been and hurt I have
felt -- all in the name of a slimmer waist and finding a boyfriend.
Ultimately, I must recognize that I am enough and I am beautiful
and I am worthy and I am sexy and I am perfect. The more I look
at how I navigate the queer community and more importantly the
queer mythologies, the more I must encourage myself to
uncompromisingly resist the ideologies that lead only to more
damage. Again, easier said than done. But it's a Sisyphysian
ball I must start rolling.
What does this frankly personal experience have to do with the
larger queer community? What does the fact that I have grown
from an overweight kid to an overweight adult have to do with
gay pride? Just carefully watch the parade go by and see for
yourself. See who is represented. How are they represented.
What order they're presented in. Notice who's watching from
the sidewalks, who's advertising, who's buying, who's organizing.
And if you look carefully, you might even see people protesting,
ignoring, or even not showing up at all (because they chose
not to or because they were not invited).
I am still hesitant this year of whether I want to go to SF
Pride. I can't help but think to a few weeks ago when I went
to the Haight Street Festival -- the Haight district being the
epicenter of radical liberalness, hippiedom, and alternative
thinking in SF. But I was appalled to see a "Win an brand
new SUV" booth. I fear Pride will be just as jarringly
incongruous and insensitive. I really want to see "radically
diverse." I'm not going to get it. I will go most likely.
I will show my support. I will dye my hair pink. I will
listen to the speeches. And maybe I'll find a teachable
moment among the tanning throng to talk about what's been on my mind.
Pride is reflexive. Community is reflexive. We look into the
crowd to see ourselves in one form or another. It must be a
reciprocal and mutual experience. We're here. We're queer.
Now let's get to work on ourselves and our neighbors and our
cities and our world. While we maintain our visibility, let's
focus on connectivity. I am always surprised when I go to
large rallying events and find that most people don't even
talk to one another. You are standing with a crowd of people,
whom you have at least one thing in common, and you don't say
hello, good morning, or whatever. Coalition building, coalition
building, coalition building. Therein lies the secret.
Sharing experiences. Creating bridges. Supporting and
sponsoring one another. There is power in that. Our communities
must revel in its diversity. But we're not a melting pot nor
a tossed salad (I'm leery of food metaphors -- I think we
consume each other enough). We're part of a larger ecology,
a biodiversity, that still has yet to find a comfortable
equilibrium (equality). It is about respect, generosity,
passion, and walking a mile in someone else's shoes. Pride
without purpose is wasteful.
|