The Closet: The Ins and Outs of being In or Out

How do you feel when someone asks you: “Are you out?” Is it a simple yes/no question for you or does it bring up painful issues and/or memories that, depending on your answer, could result in either a sense of satisfaction or one of shame? Are you one of those who can immediately respond in the affirmative with a great sense of pride and relief, or are you perhaps still feeling trapped and isolated within the clutches of the closet? In discussions I have had with people on this topic, whether they were online strangers or dear friends, one thing that I’ve come to realise, and something that surprises me, is the little consideration the closet seems to receive. For the most part, it seems to me that generally people accept that they are either in or out of the closet and ultimately believe that the goal should be a closet-free life. I don’t necessarily disagree, but I wonder about this uniquely bizarre phenomenon that is The Closet. I confess that at times I have felt as confused about my relationship with the closet as I have my own sexuality and, like with all things, I have pondered and analysed it consistently over the course of my life.

It is worth mentioning initially that the closet is not real but imagined and, though it is not a real thing, this does not prevent it from having real effects in the world. It is, ultimately, nothing more than a social construct, made by the public and yet strangely experienced on an individual level. It is both public and private… When I was younger, I never understood why everyone simply spoke of it but only I had to deal with it. Why were all these people telling me about it, along with its nature and its function, when most of these people were completely oblivious to what it actually meant to exist within that space? It was a straight person who first informed me about the closet, and how LGBTQ people lived within it until they came out, an experience usually described as liberating and wonderful. That’s all well and good, but why the hell was I put there in the first place? I can appreciate the rite of passage that the coming out process has become, but I still resent the fact that everyone put me in this place which everyone then expects me to leave. As if that weren’t absurd enough, they then go so far as to suggest that my profound happiness depends on it. I suppose what really bothered me about the whole thing was that it was never something I chose.

Like orientation, the closet is not something we choose – for most of us, we are born into the closet just as we are born LGBTQ, or rather because we are born LGBTQ, so the two appear to go hand in hand. The only real choice involves how we relate to the fact: we can choose to embrace or despise our orientations just as we can choose to remain in or remove ourselves from the closet, and in many ways these can be linked or even the same, for embracing your orientation could be equal to or necessarily involve coming out of the closet. It might be important to acknowledge that the link does not always exist though, as someone might accept their orientation and thus come out of the closet but still harbour deep resentment or ill feelings towards that orientation and ultimately one’s self, and of course one might embrace one’s orientation and yet still not be able to reveal it to certain people in one’s life. Of course, I acknowledge that there are exceptions: people who claim to have never been born in the closet at all; people who, whether through their voices or their styles or their mannerisms, etc. appear obvious (based on stereotypes and perceptions, though) and so cannot successfully hide in the closet; even better are those people who, having had such loving families and wonderful environments in which they grew up, never knew of or had to deal with the problem of the closet and the difficulties that came with it and the consequent decision about coming out of it. For the most part, I envy these people, and I suspect the latter are those rarest of exceptions and the majority of us do indeed experience time in the closet and the problem of how each of us can escape it.

While so many people insist that coming out is the only real choice – at least, the only one that allows for a happy and fulfilled life – I think many people will accept that this is not necessarily so for everyone, especially given certain circumstances. Aside from oppressive families and equally oppressive religions (and by extension religious communities as well, perhaps), consider those who might live in less… liberated countries (I use this term reluctantly as even the States – the former ‘champion’ of freedom – can still harm and oppress its citizens despite its veil of equality and liberty for all, as can be evidenced by the many rights it continues to deny its LGBTQ people as well as other issues such as the current NDAA bill, but I digress…). Consider the very real need for – as well as the safety and thus greater good provided by – the closet in those countries in which being LGBTQ is a crime. In this situation, the closet provides a service, one that allows you to prevent persecution, possible bodily harm and in some extreme cases even death. From this vantage point, it can be difficult to hate or resent something that actually saves lives. Even in less extreme situations, coming out of the closet can, and so often does, result in one being met with hostility and also violence. When I reflect on all the suicides occurring due to bullying, I find myself wondering how young LGBTQ people are supposed to reconcile this dilemma: the notion that coming out is both liberating and empowering yet at the same time is met with persecution and hatred. Those people already out of closet, whether through their own choice or not, experience that hatred to such an extent that it completely overshadows or drowns out any sense of liberty or empowerment. Denied the impact of that definitive moment of self-realisation, coupled with the weight of the repercussions of not being defended by the closet, I can see how so many choose such desperate alternatives…

The act of coming out, or the decision to do so, can be completely different for you as it might be for someone else, depending on the person you are, what you’ve been through, the family you have, your religion, and a multitude of other factors. As I mentioned earlier, I believe a person’s relationship with the closet is intensely personal and everyone’s situation might be different. It is no simple thing to suggest that one needs to do it and why this is so. Quite simply, I can see how the possibility might exist that one might not need to do it. Depending on the individual, coming out of the closet can be an act of escaping something harmful while at the same time embracing something more positive, as is the case for many that long for self-actualised freedom; however, coming out of the closet could also mean exiting something safe and secure while at the same time entering something more hostile and even dangerous. When given further thought on the issue, one can see how it is both good and bad to stay within the confines of the closet just as it is both good and bad to escape its clutches. It seems to me that one has to realistically determine whether the good and the bad is potential or certain, at least to the best of one’s ability, though this in itself can be difficult due to fear. Assuming that can be successfully achieved, balancing the good and the bad in each individual situation is perhaps the best and only real way to decide whether coming out of the closet is the right thing to do. So again I will say that I do not believe advising or even encouraging someone to come out of the closet is a simple thing, or even the correct thing, to do. Perhaps this is why I do not fully support things like Coming Out Day, a concept in which I can see great beauty and promise, but also tremendous tragedy. While it can be a means of comfort, support and even strength to some, it can just as easily be a form of powerful pressure and stress for others. It should always be said that one must always do what feels right, and that everyone’s situation might be different. There is no simple solution here. I do not believe there is always a clear-cut case of what is good and what is bad, but rather one needs to acknowledge that such things can be both good and bad and this is significant because it is more honest and allows one to deal with the issue more realistically. Some people experience devastating despair upon not achieving a greater happiness when coming out of the closet due to the belief that being out is good and free and the right thing to do. As with everything else, there is a grey area here, and being out can be liberating and good, yes, but it can also be potentially or even equally difficult and bad.

Less tangible concerns about the closet relate to the problem of being either ‘in’ or ‘out’ and what this means to you personally, regardless of external factors such as persecution or a lack of acceptance from others. Most people believe that being in the closet is akin to living a lie or a half-life and being out of the closet is synonymous with being free and empowered. While this might be true in many ways, I suspect that here too is a strange dichotomy at play, one in which either position is not so distinct from the other. It seems to me that very few people really are completely ‘in’ or ‘out’, as this is almost impossible to achieve. What I mean is that the closet is not a doorway through which you walk and from which you never look back; rather it is more like a real closet, a permanent fixture in the room that is your life. I am speaking of the peculiar problem of always being both in and out of the closet at the same time. I know I have never seen something all that exciting and beautiful in a single coming out moment simply because I cannot see it ever being a single coming out moment: we might be out to ourselves long before we ever come out to another; we might feel the need or the pressure to come out to different circles, be they friends, family, colleagues, etc., despite having come out to others already. So long as you meet a new person, you face the possibility of being pushed back into the closet and having to reveal yourself yet again – a potentially endless cycle throughout your life. This might not seem problematic to many, especially after having come out initially, but the fact remains that one might never be able to remove the closet from our rooms. Even the language can be misleading, suggesting the obvious inherent good that comes with being out from a dark and confined space, and so coming out of the closet should be desired, but coming out really means going in to something else, namely society. To be out of the closet is to be part of the real world, to finally be ‘in’, and not excluded. For many, being part of society in this honest way results in being shunned and people no longer accept you, thus we are ‘out’ once more. It seems to me that two things require clarification: first is the fact that coming out can occur many times to many different people but coming out to yourself is the greatest and most significant form of coming out; second is the fact that life is not necessarily so beautiful upon coming out and the world you may wish to enter in escaping the closet might not accept you in return or that perhaps only the LGBTQ communities might provide the acceptance you want, and even this is not always guaranteed. I am not trying to be depressing and grim, but merely acknowledging that this is indeed a greater issue than so many people seem to believe.

Of course, part of the problem is the battle of that which is seen versus that which is unseen. I don’t need to inform people of my height or the colour of my skin, so these things are never issues in the same way as those things not immediately obvious to others, such as my personal beliefs or my orientation. Whether people like it or not, they can tell my height and colour before engaging with me, and so there is never a need to reveal these truths about myself (at least not in person). Consequently, these things which are seen do not cause me angst in the same way as those things which are unseen since it is impossible to feel as if I am being deceptive by withholding this information from everyone. In truth, when it comes to those attributes that are seen, I cannot claim to own this information at all because it is directly observable independent of language, independent of me, requiring no decision, action or revelation on my part. I might possess these qualities but I have no control over these things and I also have no control over other people knowing these things. This is not true of those things which are unseen. When decision and action are required in order for things to become known, a new dynamic is created, one which carries implications of honesty and liberty that can also bring with it pressures and fears. I am not suggesting that people so easily allow fear and self-doubt to dominate the course of their lives and their decisions, but of course very few people are likely to damn me to hell for being a certain height…

So once more I ask: how do you feel when someone asks whether you are out or not? Do you quickly and easily respond or do you process all of the above points in a matter of a few moments and begin to feel flustered as I do? For me, this question is like being asked what my orientation is, as if there is a single simple response. It is like being presented with a multiple choice test and reading only essay-type questions. I live in the grey area, it seems. Nothing is ever so simple. When I bring things down to a more personal level, I realise that (and you’ll have to pardon my geekiness here) my relationship with The Closet exactly mimics Gollum’s relationship with The One Ring: I love and hate it as I love and hate myself. At times it is my greatest ally; other times it is my most formidable foe. Often I feel it gives me the strength I need in life, but it weakens me all the while. If you’ll indulge me, I’ll take the analogy even further: both The Closet and The One Ring in their own ways render us invisible; both the closet and the ring provide a sense of power and the feeling of ‘belonging’ despite being different; both the closet and the ring are ultimately harmful for us in the long run and destroy us the longer we use or embrace or cling to them. I know that the closet is a space I regularly visit, having found a way to go back and forth, depending on the people with whom I am interacting – some people know while others do not. There are always reasons for this, and unfortunately some come down to fear. There are people in my life I value greatly and despite the esteem with which I hold them, I know that coming out to them will sever our relationships. Of course it might be worth asking what genuine value those relationships provide if they are indeed so flimsy, but blood is no easy thing to shake, nor is culture. There is also the issue that coming out to people means coming out as something – it is an announcement of who and what you are, and that means attempting to define such a thing which, as evidenced in my last post (re: Bisexuality: Blurring Boundaries, Brief Bridges or Blatant Bullshit?), is no simple thing for me. More grey.

This brings me to my final point, namely that I absolutely resent the notion of having to announce to anyone anything about myself in order to be happy or fully realised or empowered or what have you. Life should be more relaxed and comfortable, and people should discover things about me as they engage with me, as they get to know me, without any assumptions. Straight people do not announce their heterosexuality to their peers or family or the world and yes, this is the ‘norm’ so there is no revelation involved, but I feel true equality means not having to label my differences and make them known to others. I am different to everyone else in so many ways it might be uncountable, and so are you. We are all unique! We do not list all our qualities that collectively make us who we are and then come out to everyone with this information in a single speech that carries the potential to define the course of our lives. Why do we do so with our orientation? I have actually heard an answer to this, from a good friend of mine who raised an interesting point: that a reason for – and result of – coming out of the closet is to assimilate or incorporate one’s own sexual identity with the rest of one’s greater identity, and with this comes the realisation (and the consequent benefits) that orientation is but one aspect of one’s identity as opposed to being the whole identity, separate and isolated and complete. This realisation brings with it a greater self-awareness along with an inner peace. I can see this. For some this might be true. For me, however, this is not the case, in fact the opposite applies. As I mentioned in an earlier post (re: The Definition of a Man), I have long battled with the issues of my identity and came to the realisation long ago that my orientation is but one aspect of many that together might help in defining the person I am. Instead of assimilating my sexual identity with the rest of my identity, I see coming out as focusing on this one aspect, seemingly irrelevant, and making an event out of it, announcing it to the world as if it is the single greatest aspect of my being. It involves drawing attention to something that should be trivial – not to say orientation is trivial, but that single aspects are in themselves trivial, and ultimately incomplete. A person’s identity can never be reduced to one or even a small handful of attributes or qualities. I never single out other facts about me and announce them at the dinner table (can you imagine: “Ahem, excuse me everyone, I have to tell you that I’m a GEEK, and a reader, and an art-lover, a gamer, a philosopher, etc.” It could go on and on and each one seems as silly and unnecessary as the last). Moreover, I never have other facts about the person I am cause me such inner turmoil, nor do I begin to doubt them after keeping them hidden for so long. Ideally, the coming out process should be disregarded, unnecessary and even discouraged, as I believe it forces one to define identity on a single attribute instead of truly embracing the whole. What others see as liberating I see as limiting. Still, to attempt to answer the question in a moderately satisfactory manner, I will say that I am out to some, not out to others. Without active decision or announcements, I am out to yet a few more and despite other announcements, my coming out is denied or ignored by a few. Why can’t anything just be a yes or no for me?

Bisexuality: Blurring Boundaries, Brief Bridges or Blatant Bullshit?

I had intended to write something different for this post, but it seemed that this topic kept coming up in my mind and I felt the need to discuss it first - perhaps get it out of the way - in order to move on to some of my other concerns. I think ultimately the majority of my issues or matters that I wish to discuss come down to the very complicated notion of ‘identity’ and this topic is probably more significant in those regards. So let’s discuss bisexuality: obviously I do not advocate that the concept is bullshit or just a bridge of sorts; the title only serves to demonstrate some of the view points that others have offered before. There are, of course, many ways in which bisexuality is seen and it seems so strange to me that so many straight people (and even gay people) are very quick to disregard it as even being real. In my personal experience, I have heard people tell me that it is a ‘phase’, usually one experienced when being open-minded and experimenting sexually or when one is trying to come to terms with his/her homosexuality.

I think a lot of people have a real and profound problem with the idea that a single person can genuinely desire people from both sexes – it’s the typical black/white dichotomy where the grey area is so feared and/or misunderstood that others struggle to comprehend and thus accept it. As such, explanations are proposed that ultimately rationalise bisexuality in a way that renders it almost non-existent. For any person who identifies as being bisexual, is that not the ultimate offense? A very aspect of one’s identity is being denied as being real.

There are many arguments against the validity of bisexuality. I mentioned already that some people regard it as a phase, and indeed I know that many gay people will initially identify as being bisexual, perhaps out of confusion or perhaps as a desperate attempt to cling to some form of heterosexuality during their discovery of their homosexuality. While this process is difficult and easily understandable, it should in no way diminish the very real dual desires of those people who genuinely identify as bisexual. It is a mistake to generalise the experiences of those people and conclude that all people who identify as bisexual are thus simply confused or ultimately on their way to being gay. This view of bisexuality as a bridge to a more ‘complete’ form of sexual orientation ignores the very real aspect of identity not being so clear-cut and simple. This seems to me to be that inability of so many to accept the grey area that bisexuality represents and rather attempts are made to box it in a black or white category that makes it more easily understood and thus accepted.

Also, I have heard people claim that bisexuality is just ‘the easy way out’, which is to say that those not comfortable with completely coming out of the closet opt instead for bisexuality because it is easier to do so. Um, I’m not so sure what’s going through the minds of those people who make these claims, because it seems pretty clear to me that embracing any orientation that is not straight can prove to be difficult in most societies today. I know that those people who identify as bisexual are not in any way avoiding the persecution and judgement and hatred experienced by those who identify as gay. In fact, I have heard many accounts of bisexual people who feel even more isolated and ignored and discriminated against because they are so misunderstood, and not simply by the straight majority but also by many of the people who claim to be of their community, namely gays and lesbians.

While I know there to be many non-believers of bisexuality, I also know there to be many people who still insist that any orientation is a choice, so I have no real problem disregarding their arguments and realising that all it really amounts to is that failure to accept anything other than their rigid notions of identity. Bisexuality may be used as a bridge for some; might be regarded as a phase for others; but still it is a very real and very legitimate part of identity for many, many people. Instead of focusing too much on the arguments attempting to disregard it altogether, I’m much more concerned with what those who do regard it actually regard it as. Like any term related to gender and/or sex and/or identity, I don’t think there is one simple, set, agreed-upon definition, and while some believe it to be exclusively related to sexual desire, I believe it is so much more than that. Orientation is not limited to simple attraction, is it? Do we not consider relationships, lifestyles, intimacy, companionship, etc. as well when we talk of homosexuality? Why should it be any different for bisexuality? I have heard many accounts of men who cannot see themselves in a long-term relationship with a man but would like to be affectionate and physically intimate with one. I have heard of women who can have loving relationships with both sexes but feel no physical attraction with one. Are these not cases of bisexuality?

I think some people choose to regard bisexuality as a form of greed or simply indecisiveness. “Well, you do not know which you prefer, so you choose both.” This contributes to the misconceptions about bisexuality and more importantly it fails to realise that attraction as well as orientation is not limited to one simple thing, like another sex. People are not choosing both because they want it all, but rather because they feel a genuine desire for both. Moreover, we need to acknowledge the spectrum that orientation really entails. Another misconception about bisexuality is that it is an even or balanced desire towards both men and women, and this is perhaps where I have my greatest difficulties personally. While some might more easily accept that people could be more 60/40 than a balanced 50/50 in terms of desire, I think people begin to struggle with this idea when the percentages become significantly different. Consider someone who identifies as maybe 90/10, or even 95/5, which is to say that for the most part they feel largely attracted to one sex but also, even though only in some small capacity, they desire people of the other sex as well. It seems clear to me that these people in particular experience many of the previously mentioned arguments, simply because that small percentage is so small that it is easy for others to disregard. I suspect that the bisexual individual would disagree, and attempt to maintain that dual desire, regardless of the seeming ‘imbalance’. Is there always a simple balance to desire? And what of the younger person who only feels some slight desire for one sex and a much greater desire for another? This inability to embrace bisexuality so easily, especially in these seemingly more complicated situations, only causes greater confusion and often even greater turmoil as one might feel pressured to embrace only one orientation. Since there is no real choice involved in orientation, how does this poor soul deal with notions of identity and pride in the long term, after possibly being bullied, in a way, to embrace only part of what s/he is?

I know many straight people that think about or at least would be willing to sexually engage with members of the same sex and I believe many gay and lesbian people would acknowledge that there might be at least some small desire for people of the opposite sex. Of course, I realise there are many people who do not exist on the continuum, and are exclusively gay or straight, but I do believe that there are many people who do not feel this way, and this is, in its way, a form of bisexuality.

Okay, all of that being said, let me bring things down to a more personal level. Why is any of this important or relevant to me? Well, I recall from a ridiculously young age, I identified as bisexual, though admittedly I never knew a great deal about it. I was still in single digits in terms of age and my mother misconstrued (or rather correctly realised as it turned out) my mannerisms and interests as being gay and called me on it. She explained to me that what I liked was gay and, likely concerned that this was the case, she perhaps hoped that it was just a 'phase' of sorts and so she informed me that maybe I could like both styles of living and that was known as being bisexual. I think she believed that adopting this label would prevent me from fully realising anything 'gay' in what I was doing and would also be easier to discard at some later stage, what with bisexuality not being some real or permanent thing in her view. In retrospect, I am disgusted by what she told me and how she convinced me to embrace a label I never understood and one she never fully explained only to appease her ridiculous concerns. The crazy part is it never came down to sex or attraction at all. As I grew older, I came to recognise my desire for men but I was never repulsed by women and, as my family made it clearer and clearer how they felt about homosexuality, it was never something I wanted to embrace. So I didn’t. At first I ignored men altogether and tried not to look or notice them. I got involved in many relationships with women and this is where everything went wrong, because while I know I was never as attracted to women as I have always been to men, when placed in that situation, I found myself indeed very attracted to them. I was able to experience many relationships with women, all of which I enjoyed. Coupled with the pressures of my family, this lifestyle seemed like the right one, and the one I had to embrace. What further complicated things for me was that I fell in love… with a woman. When that happened, all my ideas about myself shot to hell, and I entered an entirely new state of confusion.

That love I felt was genuine; it heightened my attraction for her and made me think about others, men and women, a lot less. So I started questioning myself in new ways, trying to find a model that could fit. I spent a long time convincing myself that I was not so much attracted to men as I was attracted to the prototypical male form, since the type of man I desired was the larger more muscular frame that I never possessed. As more time passed, I came to realise of course that it was more than a type of body I wanted to have for myself, but rather something that I craved in a different way. But how do you view your homosexual desires and your heterosexual loving relationship as being compatible? Well, the obvious answer would be to regard myself as bisexual. This was never something I found easy to do. Though it indeed shames me to admit, I personally regarded bisexuality as an option for me to be a form of ‘fence-sitting’, a way for me to cop-out and not deal with the hard decision I felt I was facing. My family maintained many of those views about bisexuality: that it was indecision; that it was greed; that it wasn’t really real. My greatest challenges have always been the attempts to view myself in a way that differs from my family. Their attitudes seeped into me like varnish on wood and I’m covered in this layer of their misinformed opinions that so often seems impossible to remove.

Ultimately, I experienced tremendous heartache when that relationship and another serious one after it (also with a woman) ended and consequently I developed a strong sense of cynicism toward love and relationships in general and no longer look at most women in the same way I used to when considering relationships and a future with another person. Also, having always pursued relationships with women, I find myself lacking any significant experience with men to determine greater and more resolute ideas of my own homosexuality. As it stands, I feel drawn to men in a strong way, both physical and emotional, whereas I don’t feel that way towards women any longer, certainly not on that emotional more intimate level. So is it still as easy to just embrace bisexuality? My personal percentages currently stand in such figures that appear heavily outbalanced in favour of men. This makes me feel inclined to rather simply embrace homosexuality at this time. Is that crazy? More than anything, I am reminded of my hatred for labels and while I struggle to decide whether to define myself as gay or bi, I would much rather feel more comfortable simply defining myself as not being straight.

So there it is. Am I foolish for still feeling confused? Can orientation be as fluid as love and other emotions, or am I still stuck in my family’s trap, unable to accept and see something so obvious and clear? I suspect that more experience with men, not just sexually but in all aspects, would rather significantly help me come to terms with my problems, but that’s not happening any time too soon where I am now, so I appeal to you. Any advice, opinions, counter arguments, similar experiences, anything really, would be very helpful and much appreciated. Thanks.

My Father's Failure

In my last post, The Definition of a Man, I discussed some of the issues I have been dealing with, ultimately coming to terms with the fact that, personally, my biggest problem comes down to my issues with my family, and how I know certain things to be true but struggle to accept those things in myself due to the way I was taught to view myself. Anyway, though I didn't really see the post going in that direction, honesty is paramount and I went where the heart led me. After reading it again, I was reminded of a poem I wrote a few years ago that dealt with very similar issues to that post, so I thought I would share it. I am not the greatest poet, often using direct language as opposed to too much abstract language or visual imagery. I do not write poems to express myself - I can articulate my issues well enough in speech or the written word. I write poems to help me deal with emotional issues I am going through, so hopefully I won't get too much heat for this if it is a little dull and boring.


So here goes - I hope you like it:




My Father's Failure


when I was just a little boy
my father told me what to be
for I was born a man - what joy!
and so he had such plans for me


those sports I had to like and play
a love for cars an added plus
but girls would mean the most one day
and nothing would mean more to us


as if that hadn't been enough
those things my life was all about
what really proved to be so tough:
the things I had to do without


my feelings were what made me weak
there were so many to deny
and let no tear fall down my cheek
for real men never need to cry


from early on it made no sense
I never understood his plan
so there I was, depressed and tense
why couldn't I just be a man?


as time went by, he watched me grow
I'd bend his rules; we'd grow apart
G_D help me if I broke one though
for that would truly break his heart


so he was right; I dare not stray
the Maker said so after all
I couldn't understand the way
He'd set me up to watch me fall


although I've never said aloud
the thing he knows but won't admit
he's told me that he won't feel proud
of lifestyles that he can't permit


and so I tried to live the lie
but it was always just a front
and now the truth I can't deny:
"I'll never be the son you want"


more time's gone by; we never speak
he sees our hearts as sturdy stones
of course no tear will touch his cheek
for broken boys with brittle bones


those rules of his; that's all I've got
no love remains; no treasures kept
so all I am is what I'm not:
the man who failed; the man who wept

The Definition of a Man

What does it mean to be gay? Perhaps this is an easy question for some, but for others, not so much.  My own personal sense of identity does not start and end with my being gay, so I don't think this is such a simple question. Moreover, I think it often requires one to also consider what it means to be a man. While I know many people choose to stay in the closet because of fear, because of persecution, because of shame, I suspect that many people choose to stay in the closet simply because the world beyond it is not as appealing as one might think. There are so many different types of gay men out there and the truth is that only a few 'types' have been made visible over the years, to the extent that stereotypes have formed, and everyone knows how harmful stereotypes can be. I believe that many people, much like myself, desire a community to which they can feel they belong, but when they are exposed to only certain types of gay men, they might end up wondering whether that really is the community for them. It is not sufficient and certainly not all that liberating and empowering to be placed within the single category of 'Gay Men'. I'm gay and I'm a guy, so why do I feel as if I don't belong? This is because of the diversity within that single category, that for the most part has not been exposed and thus many people are unfamiliar with it. Embracing that category brings with it a possible pressure to embrace something that in truth is not who you are, even though at first glance it seems otherwise. "Well, of course I'm a gay man so this has to be the group for me, right?" Is it really that simple? What about those who don't or can't connect with the others already in that group? We might already feel as if we don't necessarily fit in the straight community, and how many people like myself have felt as if they don't really fit in the gay community either? This is the problem: it's not simply about being gay; it's also about the man that you are. As I mentioned before, I don't define myself as simply gay; instead I see my being gay as just one of the many aspects that contribute to the man that I am. So how then does one define what it means to be a man? 

I've attempted this discussion before, unfortunately always with the wrong audience perhaps, namely straight men. They are men too, of course, but I suspect the gay man deals with this concept in a fundamentally different way. Gay men, in virtue of the fact that they are attracted to men, and are men themselves, deal with the unique issue of perhaps attempting to live up to that which they desire. I am not speaking of narcissism, of course, but rather the dilemma a man might face with being a man and being attracted to a certain type of man, perhaps a type similar to himself or one far removed from the type of man that he himself is. Consider the man attracted to different types: does he strive to achieve that concept within himself, or accept himself as something 'other' and merely desire it as something different? Gay men are confronted, even assaulted, with the notion of masculinity from an early age, and are forced to deal with the concept in ways that many straight men will never know or perhaps even understand. 

Words like 'macho', 'butch', 'manly', and of course 'masculine', and also to a lesser extent others like 'dominant' and 'tough' always seem to pop up, but do any of them have any real set definition? Are those definitions not in fact largely personal? We might be tempted to regard concepts of toughness and/or dominance with some simplicity, but to what aspects of one's life do they apply? Are they limited to the bedroom or the boardroom, or do they extend to all aspects of a person's character? Does a man need bulging biceps to be macho, or simply an assertive and aggressive disposition? Does one need to be a body-builder to be butch, and if so then can he also be sensitive? Can the emotional man also be considered manly? When confronted with terms like 'sensitive', 'emotional', 'affectionate', 'sweet', and so on, do those earlier terms lose their significance? Are these concepts incompatible? Obviously I suspect that many people would think not, that many of these ideas can indeed coexist within a person, but can we ignore how others react, how they seem to feel threatened when witnessing such things? Obviously they have a different idea of what it means to be a man.

So what does it mean to you? 

At the end of the day, I think each man will have his own idea of what it means to be a man as well as his own definition of what masculinity entails. I would hope that most people would define masculinity based on aspects less physical and more fundamental, aspects crucial to one’s character. I know for me, such aspects include: honour; trustworthiness; confidence; courage; honesty; compassion; the ability to follow through on your word along with the belief that your word always matters; and also a genuine desire to treat others well, or at least as well as you wish to be treated yourself. These are qualities that I feel are essential to being a man or at the very least a good man. But hang on, some people might suggest that such qualities are not limited to men, and are in fact qualities that would comprise any decent human. Well, that’s the point, isn’t it? Do we really live in an age where people believe that the things which make one person a good man could never be considered to be the same things that make a good woman? Can the gay man not be defined by the same criteria that the straight man might use? I think the real issue is that we are all people, regardless of sex, gender, orientation, colour, religion, etc. Why live in a world where our differences limit the manner in which we define ourselves? I know I do not conform to a conventional notion of what a straight man might be, nor do I conform to a conventional notion of what a gay man might be, but that in no way denies me my identity. Instead, I can develop my own idea of masculinity and conform to that, something true and honest about myself that allows me to be all that I am.

Perhaps one of the greater problems is that masculinity specifically is so regularly associated with muscles. Of course you can be a man and not muscular but then you are not a very masculine man. Likewise, if you are a muscular woman, you can be robbed of your femininity and seen as masculine based simply on your physical appearance. Is this an accurate and more importantly a fair manner to determine one’s sense of masculinity? I am not especially muscular, and so accepting this argument is not something I can easily do, for I wish to retain a sense of masculinity regardless of my physique. What of all those types of men that are not sporty, perhaps more geeky, and with less physical stature? It seems to me they are often regarded as being less masculine. What about the many gay men out there with incredibly muscular bodies? I am curious to know how those smaller straight men and those muscular gay men hold up to these strict codes of masculinity. Well, many people have told me that a gay man, in virtue of the fact that he is gay, simply cannot be masculine, and this is where things get really depressing. I have discovered that, for so many people, the concept of masculinity and perhaps even the very definition of a man necessarily involves being heterosexual. Ouch. Perhaps this is why so many gay men have such identity crises: not being heterosexual and yet still trying to be a man in a world that regards these two concepts as being undeniably related can be pretty tough to say the least. This is perhaps my problem. Am I unable to embrace my manhood because I cannot embrace heterosexuality?

There are other issues involved too, though. The gay culture that has been exposed to me does not consist of what people might consider regular for men, but rather entails fashion, dancing, pop and/or dance music, and many similar interests. There is nothing wrong with any of these, of course, but a failure to connect on these levels leaves many gay men feeling isolated. These things have freely been claimed by (but not exclusively limited to) gay men in a way that has been embraced beautifully but now is associated with gay culture. That gay culture, though wonderful in many ways, is not regarded as masculine either. This contributes to the feelings that any gay man might have about being robbed of his masculinity. He can embrace this gay culture and no longer be regarded as masculine, or he can ignore it but, as noted before, in virtue of his being gay, is still not regarded as masculine. To embrace popular gay culture or not, a man should never have to compromise his sense of masculinity, and I would argue that those men who have always appeared more feminine, whether through their fashion sense, lack of muscles, higher voices, etc. are likely to have a more resolute notion of what masculinity entails, for those are the people who have always had to deal with it, who have had it questioned from a young age, who have had to prove themselves time and again to their peers and their family and so on. Their concept of masculinity might vary greatly from a straight man’s concept, but that in no way suggests it is any less valuable or less real.

Personally, I do not relate to popular gay culture, for I am not the biggest fan of pop music, I don’t enjoy dancing, I don’t engage in girl talk; but I am also not particularly sporty, I am not especially muscular and certainly can be emotionally involved in some things. My passion and lack of physical prowess should in no way deny me my sense of masculinity. So why does it? Conceptually, I know what it means to be a man. I know also what kind of man I am. However, I hit a wall when I look at myself through the eyes of my family, the people with whom I grew up, with whom I spent all my time as I developed my personal sense of identity. My family is my problem. My family, with their rigid rules and ideals, pressured me always to be something else, and whenever I strayed from those notions of theirs, relationships deteriorated. I realise now that I need to remove myself from this, and expose myself to a different, kinder, gentler, more loving point of view, and the sad truth is that this will not come from the people with whom I share blood. It will come from the people with whom I share love. I have learned that these are not always one and the same.

Being a man means having the strength to see yourself for everything you are, and living the life that you need to live, regardless of what others want and expect, regardless of how difficult it might be; it means overcoming fears and accepting not just others and their views, despite how painful and wrong they might appear, but also your own, despite how painful and wrong they might appear as well.

I am a man.

My First Post

So this is my very first post on my very first blog site. I have never done this before, but I realised it was time. I recently came to the realisation that I am not connected, in any way, to the people with whom I need to be connected. I have been dealing with issues of my sexuality and my identity for far too long now and have had no guidance from or even exposure to the type of people that might be able to relate to me.

Obviously, before I continue, please let me suggest that if you are a homophobe, then you might think about leaving now - I doubt this would interest you.

My goal with this blog is to get a dialogue going about all the things that amount to being gay in the hopes of coming to a better understanding of who I am. Believe it or not, I have not known many openly gay people and the few I have known have, for the most part, tainted my own personal image of what it means to be gay. I recently found something online that counteracted this, namely a gay family that showed me a better side to the world I need to know. My current situation prevents me from really exploring these things where I am and so I turn to you. I think perhaps I could embrace life in a different way if I could talk about all the things for which I do not currently have an outlet.

So let me start with a request: I would be so very grateful to anyone and everyone who would be willing to tell me when and how you first knew you were gay, and what being gay really means to you. Was the realisation a difficult one, or were you able to embrace it easily? While I realise many people have families that might accept them or shun them, or reluctantly and begrudgingly come to terms with them, I am more interested at this time in how it felt for you to accept being gay yourself. Were you ashamed or proud? How does one embrace that gay pride when a life of negative conditioning prevents you from seeing something beautiful in it? (This is not to suggest I do not see other gay people as beautiful - strangely this only applies to myself. Urgh...)

Oh, and please feel free to ask any questions and share any or all your thoughts. Ultimately, my endgame is to connect with people, meet people, make friends, debate, share ideas, build a community of people to know and love. Corny, but true and sincere, I assure you.  Thank you,


J