Feminine men gay
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 experience. 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
6 Steps Towards Whole-Heartedly Loving Yourself as a Feminine Gay Man
Source: Everyday Feminism
When I was a teenager, I was vocally adamant about not being attracted to other feminine homosexual boys.
I was, at that point, the amalgamation of my fear, anger, angst, confusion, and self-loathing.
I think back to those days and wish I could go back in time, not to check or lecture myself, but to give myself the love I wasn’t getting anywhere else.
I was in a bad place. I knew I talked like what people imagine gay men talk like. I knew I swished my hips when I walked. I knew I stood out.
Because people either ignored these things altogether or had something negative to say. I began to see the things that made me different as bad. That’s all that the earth had ever showed me.
I hated people like me because I thought myself something worth hating.
No one celebrated feminine gay men, and I wasn’t powerful or independent enough to stand on my own and celebrate myself. I desperately needed validation.
To be honest, I didn’t even grasp I hated myself as much as I was alert of the evidence that I hated others. I consideration myself above the stereotypes – I was notlike those ga
As the mainstream image of what a gay man is continues to morph into more of a hero and less of a victim, we continue to cast our most handsome, athletic and masculine men in the leading roles of the queer movement. As our rainbow fades to pastel, society now understands that gay men can be just like the rest of mainstream society. Our community has a new cast of same-sex attracted heroes who place our most chiseled, scruffy-jawlined faces forward for everyone to see. From TV stars like Wentworth Miller to athletes like Jason Collins, the world now knows that we can be strong and manly and fit right in with the rest of the boys. But there is a other kind of strength that has always existed within gay identity, although it might not approach in the form of bulging muscles and bass voices.
Unlike his masculine counterpart, the effeminate lgbtq+ man doesn't have the luxury of hiding behind a butch façade until he is pleasant with coming out of the closet. You know the type. He can learn the choreography to the latest pop lyric more quickly than you can learn the lyrics. In lofty school he had to construct a beeline for his wagon the minute the bell rang so that he could elude the worn-out name calli
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 plan 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 queer “taste” gene yet to be discovered?
Alan Downs, in his popular book The Velvet Rage, argues that the reason that homosexual 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 produce the appearance of beauty as way to mask 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 verify or disprove. I acquire no idea if it’s true. However, I act think The Velvet Rage is the most significant book we have on gay men’s development.
What I love about the publication are the first several chapters where he validates, with hard-hitting language, the challenges of growing up as a gay young man in a straight family. You will feel seen and heard in these chapters. They w