lion and tigers and bears ....
**warnning: this post contains gratutitous male nudity and potato salad**
Being that I am an academic, when it came time for me to honestly address my sexuality the first thing I did was plop myself down with some literature on the subject. I spent a good four or five months learning the lingo and cultural norms of The Gays. During this educational phase of my coming out, I was familiarized with such queer standards as: top, bottom, vers.,trans. , and the ever-popular twink. Soon to follow were more advanced terms like: kink, beard, gloryhole, bathhouse, houseboy, and man-gina.
During that learning phase I attached a moral to each of these terms: top=manly, houseboy=whore, man-gina=ew. I can now justify these moral judgements based on the fact that I was still somewhat of an outsider; I had nothing more in commmon with the members of the groups than the attraction to members of my own sex. Further justification of these snap judgements is that I was not detered; I dove face first into finding a nieche in the same way the first twink set himself loose on the world (read: www.gay.com).
As I spent more time inside the fishbowl which I had previosly only observed, the stigmas and moral judgements began to fall away. I befriended houseboys; fell in love with many "bearded" men; bought [for research purposes] a porn titled "Gloryholez 10"; experimented with bottomming; sampled my fair share of man-gina [and twink]; I even subscribed to Showtime in hopes of
furthering my education through the sexual prowess of my idol Brian Kinney+.
Resultantly, I have very few hang-ups. Sexual liberation has been my gateway to so many liberating thoughts - it's been my key to the mind-trap set by our heteronormative society.
But it's not my purpose here to proclaim that I have reached the zenith of my "accept everyone" journey. I'm still learning everyday that I have walls to break down. Like: I may be a bear.
Even writing that makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth. Not only do I think it's degrading to us clump hairy men into a category which gets it's name from a grizzly creature that can often be found in the dumps of rural communities, I have always feared that I may be forced to join such a group on account of my hairy chest and ability to grow a full beard in two days' time. More to the point was the fact that I had assigned the catergory to include [excusively] dirty, old, hairy men (before you judge me, google "gay bears"). We fear most that with which we most identify ... or something mushy like that.
As we age, our tastes change. We change. I have matriculated from a man that appreciates a smooth chest to a man that has an equal appreciation for a man that has a five o'clock shadow with a tuft of chest hair. As well, as I get older I get hairier, so I'm giving into stereotype!
In a few day's time, I will, with ten of my closest [straightest] friends, embark on an annual trip to the woods of a southern New York State park to enjoy drinking games, optional showers, snowball fights,
and Halter's amazing potato salad. The time and place just seem right for me to put on my boots and stop shaving [my back and my face]. I am knocking down my bear wall and I'm doing it in a cabin in the woods.
Who knows if I'll leave my grizzly right there in that cabin, but that's the thing about boxes: It's safer to have lived one day inside a box than it is to walk around for the rest of your days afraid of what that box looks like from within.
+: Kinney is the basis for a very thoughtful exploration of "The Peter Pan Syndrome" over at afterelton.com. It's worth a read.
Being that I am an academic, when it came time for me to honestly address my sexuality the first thing I did was plop myself down with some literature on the subject. I spent a good four or five months learning the lingo and cultural norms of The Gays. During this educational phase of my coming out, I was familiarized with such queer standards as: top, bottom, vers.,trans. , and the ever-popular twink. Soon to follow were more advanced terms like: kink, beard, gloryhole, bathhouse, houseboy, and man-gina.
During that learning phase I attached a moral to each of these terms: top=manly, houseboy=whore, man-gina=ew. I can now justify these moral judgements based on the fact that I was still somewhat of an outsider; I had nothing more in commmon with the members of the groups than the attraction to members of my own sex. Further justification of these snap judgements is that I was not detered; I dove face first into finding a nieche in the same way the first twink set himself loose on the world (read: www.gay.com).
As I spent more time inside the fishbowl which I had previosly only observed, the stigmas and moral judgements began to fall away. I befriended houseboys; fell in love with many "bearded" men; bought [for research purposes] a porn titled "Gloryholez 10"; experimented with bottomming; sampled my fair share of man-gina [and twink]; I even subscribed to Showtime in hopes of
furthering my education through the sexual prowess of my idol Brian Kinney+.Resultantly, I have very few hang-ups. Sexual liberation has been my gateway to so many liberating thoughts - it's been my key to the mind-trap set by our heteronormative society.
But it's not my purpose here to proclaim that I have reached the zenith of my "accept everyone" journey. I'm still learning everyday that I have walls to break down. Like: I may be a bear.
Even writing that makes me throw up a little bit in my mouth. Not only do I think it's degrading to us clump hairy men into a category which gets it's name from a grizzly creature that can often be found in the dumps of rural communities, I have always feared that I may be forced to join such a group on account of my hairy chest and ability to grow a full beard in two days' time. More to the point was the fact that I had assigned the catergory to include [excusively] dirty, old, hairy men (before you judge me, google "gay bears"). We fear most that with which we most identify ... or something mushy like that.
As we age, our tastes change. We change. I have matriculated from a man that appreciates a smooth chest to a man that has an equal appreciation for a man that has a five o'clock shadow with a tuft of chest hair. As well, as I get older I get hairier, so I'm giving into stereotype!
In a few day's time, I will, with ten of my closest [straightest] friends, embark on an annual trip to the woods of a southern New York State park to enjoy drinking games, optional showers, snowball fights,
and Halter's amazing potato salad. The time and place just seem right for me to put on my boots and stop shaving [my back and my face]. I am knocking down my bear wall and I'm doing it in a cabin in the woods.Who knows if I'll leave my grizzly right there in that cabin, but that's the thing about boxes: It's safer to have lived one day inside a box than it is to walk around for the rest of your days afraid of what that box looks like from within.
+: Kinney is the basis for a very thoughtful exploration of "The Peter Pan Syndrome" over at afterelton.com. It's worth a read.
posted by brian. at 10:34 AM
