Existential Crisis of the 21st Century Queer

A few months back, I was on a date with a charmingly queer Australian gentleman. At the end of the night, after considering my grubby jeans, messy long hair and English reserve, he said ‘you’re not very gay are you mate?’ I didn’t really know what to say. I really am very gay, but exactly how gay does gay have to be? I suppose what he meant was that I’m not excessively camp; the behavioural model of the modern gay stereotype: effeminate, extrovert, flirtatious and very sexual.

Call me hung up, but to me this is a total paradox. After the huge courage and bravery of the gay liberation movement, which fought for the individual’s right to express their feelings publicly and without fear, a mainstream gay identity has been established which still leaves many within the gay community feeling alienated and uncomfortable.

In the 60s, what used to be ‘hush-hush, keep it behind closed doors and for God’s sake don’t get caught pants down with Jonathan’, is now ‘I’m just so gay! Look at me everyone, look how gay I am!’ I was standing next to a woman who jokingly shouted those very words at the party bus going past at the Brighton and Hove Pride festival this summer, having a laugh with her friends. It was odd to be laughing with them. In a sense, the secrecy, compulsory discretion and feeling of danger of covert homosexuality in the 1960s feels almost appealingly adventurous in comparison. There’s really nothing like a bit of danger to drive two individuals together, to make their love more passionate, more taboo, more precious. Danger and adversity affirms the reality of love and makes it stronger. It’s what makes Romeo and Juliet and countless other love stories so moving and tender.

Obviously it isn’t constructive to think along these lines, and I’m certainly not suggesting the re-criminalisation of homosexuality. The watershed of civil rights and legislative reform for gay people in Britain is a triumph of liberal democracy. As a British gay man I’m entitled to civil partnerships; legal protection from discrimination in the workplace and the trade of goods; freedom to join the armed forces and equal access to In Vitro Fertilisation (IVF) and surrogacy. It’s complacent to agonise over gay life in Britain when in many nations people still face the death penalty, severe sentences or just violent discrimination for being openly gay. But inevitably, one wonders where the LGBT movement is headed next, if not abroad. At least in Britain, the war is being won.

So we can all relax. No wait. Now we can all have sex! And we can all flaunt our sexualities publicly, shamelessly and safely. The industry which has boomed alongside the advances in LGBT rights in the last 20 years is extraordinary, attracting mixed emotions of jubilation and apprehension. Take Gaydar for example; a kind of randy Facebook for gay men. You upload your vital statistics and profile photos, you decide how sexually explicit you want it, and then browse for potential match ups in your local neighbourhood. Twinks, chubbies, bears, preppies, muscle men, the categories are endless. The sexual preference list is equally intriguing, including breath control, glory holes, vanilla, and my personal favourite, vacuum pumping. ‘What you want when you want it’, the slogan reads. Despite the obvious convenience of a potential hook up being just a mouse-click away, any day of the week, Gaydar’s unromantic presentation of sex merely as a commodity is a portentous example of the marketisation of homosexuality. But as my brother recently pointed out: “if the chances are only ‘one in ten’ then isn’t there a need for quite a lot of marketing?” He certainly has a point.

With the civil and legal rights now secured, and the encouragement from the likes of Gaydar, gay clubbing districts and Pride festival weekends, the debate now revolves around how one decides to ‘be gay’ and the public performance of sexuality.

Following the courageous act of coming out, I’ve witnessed many individuals abandon their individuality for the social requirement to ‘be gay’. It suddenly becomes the only thing that matters. In the process, a lot of what has defined their character since early childhood is then rejected in favour of broadcasting their sexuality to the world. This is where I take issue: ‘coming out’ shouldn’t have to entail a sacrifice of individuality.

I understand the need to perform homosexuality: we’re few and far between and no one, especially when young, wants a life of involuntary chastity. It is hard work being gay, but if you subscribe to the preeminent model of behaviour you may limit the development of your own sexual persona. Humans are socially defined by their skills, opinions and interests, as well as sexuality. Individuality is sacrosanct. Why rush into a generic sexual identity? Surely it’s worth taking your time over. After all, there’s nothing more attractive than originality.