The Gay Gang

I want to talk about pride. In actual fact I should say I want to talk about shame. I've often wondered, as I'm want to do from time to time, why it is that the gay community feels such an urge to be 'Proud'. From street marches to carnivals, from beauty pageants to sports competitions the homosexual has developed, is developing, wants to develop, is fighting a legal battle to develop an equivalent to any and all heterosexual displays of Human capacity. The Gay Olympics for example.

We are a bunch of lesbians and gays who want to play sport against one another. So I guess the showers could be quite the place to be during that time... but what worries me about such a show is: Do gay men and women need their own sporting event? Does a gay woman run faster or slower, is she in any way impeded by her love of the cunny that she can't compete with her dick sucking counterparts in the normal Olympics? Is it that the gay guys swim slower than the normal guys? (This I suspect is true. Swimming in a pool in a speedo with a bunch of well muscled speedo wearing men would slow me down. The erection would contribute a significant drag effect I'm sure [this is called wishful thinking. At best I might achieve a little wake ha ha.]). Anyway the point I'm making is not actually a point it's the question: WHY?

And it was up until recently a very, very difficult one for me to answer. Now I know the answer. Or at least I think I do. But since you know my style by now I have to set up my justifications first. And to do that I'm going to need the help of a rugby jock. Lets call him Jack.

Gay Guy = GG
Jack = J

GG: Hello Jack.
J: Watsup.
GG: The sky.
J: What?
GG: Never mind. Ok, on to our first question - There was a big match this weekend, and you guys won by a huge margin. How did that make you feel?
J: Awesome hey.
GG: I see. And when the match had finished the whole school ran onto the field cheering and clapping. How did that make you feel?
J: Lekker (Afrikaans for awesome) hey.
GG: Any idea why?
J: 'Cause like they were cheering for us. For the team. So ja, it was cool.
GG: Then after that you guys all jumped into your dads bakkie (pick-up truck) and drove down mainstream screaming like a bunch of hooligans right?
J: Is that like a Pelican?
GG: What?
J: A Hoolican?
GG: No - I mean like a wild bunch of united individuals with a common cause for celebration.
J: Ja. Like a pelican.
GG: OK. And when you arrived at the local bar drinks were on the house.
J: No that was Shitface. He climbed up on the roof later.
GG: Yes yes. I see what we're dealing with here. OK, so my point is you felt united right?
J: Right.
GG: Then when the school had the parade through town, you chaps led the whole thing in your rugby jerseys?
J: Correct. It was awesome hey.
GG: Hay is something horses eat. But yes, I get your point.
J: What's up with this oke, talking all funny like this?
GG: Never mind, it's genetic. Thank you for your time, I'll let you carry on stuffing the school chess champion into that cupboard.
J: Awesome!

OK. So what's my point? My point is that for most gay people I've encountered, barring a few, it seems that we spend a good deal of our time feeling like outsiders. We don't fit in. Or, in actual fact - as I guess is happening today - we're labeled as 'The Gay'. But this is still exclusionary. And so we grow up desperately wanting to be part of something bigger than ourselves. We want to be recognized as having capacity beyond just our label.

And this is a Human need. We want to demonstrate our capacity to contribute. Otherwise the rest of the cavemen will have no need for us, and make us do normal hunting work like the rest of them. So what I'm driving at is we all, on some fundamental level, after 100 000 years of evolution feel the need to somehow fit in or prove ourselves to our fellow humans. But how does that translate into gay Pride?

Well, in my opinion, it translates very easily. We, as gay people, want to feel as if we belong, and once we feel that we belong - either by being in an accepting community, or through legal recourse (as so often is the case) we then want recognition within that group. I'm not saying that within a bunch of homosexuals there is strong competition to see just who is the best homosexual... (except in the case of the Olympics, Mr. Gay World beauty pageant etc...) or am I? I think there is an undercurrent of gay comparability.

I know I for one, although I'm really, really into men, often times feel that I don't measure up to being gay enough. I don't cook, only started drinking wine in vast quantities recently, hate poetry, prefer male friends to female, hate the colour pink, don't scream like a queen, and I didn't until therapy hug other gay men upon meeting them. Last night for instance I had an amazing Christmas dinner with some new friends, and with some gay friends of mine whom I adore. But upon leaving the new friend (an amazing gay man) he wanted a good-bye hug. Now I've been trying to over-come my reluctance to hugging, and have been analysing my body position during hugging etc. and even so when I gave him a hug, he still commented: "Oh he's a new boy to hugging." To which the other gay lads all laughed, but hugged me some more, as if by way of demonstration. Don't get me wrong. The rush of human contact was unbelievable, and just the fact that they were then fixed on teaching me (over the next couple months) just how to hug properly made my heart warm. But I suddenly felt 'Not really Gay'. Or 'Not Gay Enough'. Daft I know. But I wasn't part of the club yet.

But with each evening or day I spend with my gay friends I loosen up, I become part of the gang. The Gay Gang. So when that pride march comes along I'm most certainly going to join it. Why? Because it affirms who I am. Not because I want to show off to the straights, but because I want to know for myself - I am who I am, and who I am is a gay man, who is now, finally accepting of who and what he is...

*I apologize for Jack being such a typical rugby moron, but it was necessary for the illustration and humour. Jack is now a financially successful businessman with a wife and 1.45 kids. He will die knowing that he was a 'good man'.

I want to help... but how?

I originally intended to post the top 10 happy things of 2008 in this spot, but now I feel it would be a cheap alternative to what is really going on inside my head. I have had the best 6 months of my life. Apart from making my first film, I cannot think of a time when I was happier. I've got an amazingly wonderful future ahead of me, with all the usual pitfalls that one has to contend with, but the long and short of it is, life is great. It's super great. Take for example - yesterday. 

Yesterday I was invited to join a group of friends to go to see an Adult Pantomime - Sleeping Beauty - which is fantastic by the by. Now my initial reaction was 'no, I've got things to do, paintings to work on, and who knows what it'll be like?' etc.  But then I thought - hang on, live the moment, and spend time with your friends. So I said yes. My word, thanks the gods that I did. I went and laughed. And laughed, and fucking laughed. And afterwards went to a wonderful bar/eatery thing, and got drunk. One of the chaps who was in this party was a British bloke who was running a bit of a feeding scheme in Bulgaria of all places. What a character. And what a wonderful way to while away a Sunday afternoon. Watching a bunch of men in drag in a converted church surrounded by gay men. I thought - those Christians had better start praying now. Actually I marvelled at the old beams and the nice door.

But what it got me thinking was how wonderful my life is. It's truly remarkable what has happened to me in so short a time, and how whenever I fall flat my friends all come together and pick me up. When I tell them to fuck off they come back, point out my silliness and help me remember why I love them all. I only hope I deserve it. But then it got me thinking about the boy who killed himself. And another dear friend of mine who's going through a mid-life crisis. I want them to experience life as I am. I want them to have a wonderful world. How can I help them? I can't pay for them - that is sadly my one and only problem. If I could earn just R2000 extra a month I'd be perfectly fine. But I'm not letting it stop me. 

So my problem is how to help my wonderful friends. And I lament because I can't think of how to draw them from the fog of depression. I look at my journey and it was only assisted by me 'wanting' to change. I wanted to be free of the anxiousness, the fear, the lonliness. Obviously for the suicide it's too late. But I want to help prevent that. Is this how mother Terresa started? Just wanting to help others find joy in existance? I don't know. I really, really don't. What I do know though, is that my friends work bloody hard to keep me going. And I shall do the same for them. I will reach out as best I can. 

And so I'm going to start by doing this; I'm going to list the best things about my friends, and those who don't make this list - I'm just warming up, your turn will come: 

1- Hans. His capacity to be so thoughtful as to my well being, to sacrifice his own time for me. Unbelievable. Thanks buddy.

2- Carmen. You are the perfect woman. Kind, generous, but firm, and fair. You are beautiful in all senses of the word. 

3- Hugo. You are my brother. I wouldn't be the person I was if I didn't have you to guide me and show me the right way.

4- Colin. Your amazing talent, your incredible wit. You inspire me.

5- Watson. Your youthful tenacity to being you, you are my constant support, and your loyalty to your friends is awe inspiring.

6- Ryan. You are the silent rock about which the world breaks. I admire your ability to go with the flow.

7- Justin. Your enthusiasm for life, for being you - you are my gay guide, and will always have a special place in my heart.

8- Jurgen. Wherever you are now, you were my role-model. I hope to be yours one day.

9- Leon. Your acceptance of people, and your willingness to help, your ability to be you and to be honest I cannont hope to match. But I will try.

10- Holly. Your support means more than you can imagine. I love you my little sister.

And to all the rest of you, whom I don't spend enough time, whom I haven't written something about here, please forgive me. I'll get to you, I really will. (Also please note that the list above is in no way indicative of friendship status or level, but purely a random numbering...).

So a big thank you to those people who have made a wonderful world all the better just for being in it. Fuck, I've gone all Hallmark now. Oh well, might as well finish the thought: 

MERRY FUCKING CHRISTMAS.

Suicide and the praying Christians

This morning I got the terrible news that a good family friend's son had died. In fact he had committed suicide. He was 25. I didn't really know him well. We'd spent literally years of holidays together, my broken family and his whole family of four kids and two loving parents. My family broke when I was ten or eleven. I, think like all children of divorce, didn't at the time take it too badly: I slept at the base of my mothers bed for almost a year before I was brave enough to move into my own room. But that's a different story. The story of this young man's suicide is the point here today. 

Suicide to me is a double sided fuck-up. My great aunt and uncle committed suicide. He was about to loose his second leg to illness and old age, and she was bed-ridden and slowly being eaten by cancer. He ended her life, and then his own. When I was told I was terribly sad, but also terribly proud. Such a noble act. What greater sacrifice could be made? What greater request could be fulfilled than to kill your wife, and then lie down next to her and end your own? They had been married for over 50 years, were both approaching 90 and had had a good life. To me, and his sister, my grandmother, it seemed like an act of amazing love and bravery. 

What this friend of mine did though, killing himself at such an age hasn't left me with the same feeling. In fact it's left me wondering what it's all about? Sure he had problems, he was an under-achiever, someone who didn't have direction in life. Coming from a big family I can understand that he may have felt alone or insignificant. Knowing his mother I know that would not have been anyone's intention and purely a contruct of his own depressed mind, she is one of the most loving and caring people I know. I can also appreciate that he must have felt he was saving everyone around him a lot of trouble by removing himself from the equation. Little thinking that his removal would cause more strife than he could possibly imagine. 

In the same conversation with my mother about this horrid event she also confessed to having relented to another old family friend of hers. Aparently this good friend of ours has started a prayer group for me. My own prayer group, I should be proud. It happens to be praying for my salvation and realization that 'choosing' homosexuality is the work of evil. And that I should be saved from my stupid decision and come right and start sticking my dick into cunts. You can probably tell from my language just how I feel towards this woman and her wonderful circle of Christians. She apparently talks to my mother about how the group is doing. Apparently not too well since I've been going out with more gay friends than I can remember, am actively looking for a boyfriend, and have been easing into this new life of debauchery quiet nicely.

But what makes me really angry, is not her misguided idea that I choose to suck dick, and not lick clit. I don't and have never choosen to. I have chosen to try to deny my inner self. And succeeded for quiet some time. But I don't choose to not have two arms, or two legs. Trust me on this, finding the male body amazing and the female body rather badly proportioned, and rather ungainly is not something that I can account for. A strong chest lightly dusted in hair has more appeal to me than two firm breasts of snow white. Why? I don't know. It just does. (Sorry ladies, it's nothing personal.)

So back to the suicide and how the praying Christians are involved. If they are praying for me to see the light, is it not strange that they should exert themselves so much over what I do with my genitals than perhaps what I do with my mind? Shouldn't they be praying that I don't cheat, lie, or decieve others? Isn't it more of a crime to lie to someone and take advantage of them, than to sexually satisfy a willing partner? For that matter shouldn't all of their exersions be directed to preventing kids from killing themselves? It seems to be a constant occurance. Well... so is homosexuality. Oh shut up. You know what I mean. 

So I suppose I'm writing this because I'm frustrated over the Human condition. Not my own this time, which is bizarre, but over others. We take our daily lives and those of others around us with such seriousness that I think we tend to forget the basics: Life and Death. Our evolutionary forefathers were solely concentrated on those two points. Live by procreation and food obtainance, or die by death (?). Did Zorg the caveman stop and wonder if Gog and Krug were fucking each other, and if perhaps he should stop and spend some time praying that they didn't? Or did Zorg realize that killing the tiger, raping the woman, and bringing home food for his children was more important? Guess what - Zorg brought home the bacon, lived life, and was happy when his family were fed. He died, and his children continued the pattern.

Krigger however realized he could get food for free by talking to the spirits who made all those funny things Zorg, and Gog, and Krug couldn't explain and who could ensure a successful hunt (sadly the fact that Zorg and co. have been successfully hunting for thousands of years seemed to have been missed). And Krigger realized that his words gave him power. And I suspect at some point Krigger wanted to sleep with Krug, but Krug refused, prefering his lifelong partner of Gog. Krigger, in a fit of jealous rage invents the Roman Catholic Church and turns homosexuality into just another item on his list of shit to fuck people up with so that they are so grateful Krigger has absolution for them (because as Krigger pointed out, everyone is inherently sinful) that they'll continue to give him free stuff so he doesn't have to do a stitch of work. Marvelous really. 

So we get prayer groups all hoping that Krigger's god will miraculously drive the demons from my consciousness and save my penis. Except then you get kids like my friend whom, ok he wasn't gay, but he certainly committed other sins (as do we all, remember Krigger's rule: All men are born sinful), and it's the pressure of these amazing groups that push kids to the point of no hope. If Kriggers god doesn't want us sinners, and our parents look to Krigger's god for all that is pure and good, then perhaps they don't want us around; horrid reminders of how far we are from their devoted ideal. I'm not saying that this kid committed suicide because his parents made God out to be great and any deviation from God's perfect words was to be looked down upon... or am I? I didn't want to be gay, God had said it was bad and everyone around me had agreed. I was different because Krigger said so, and everyone agreed.

If a non-existant being has more power over humans than other humans doesn't that say something about humans? We delude ourselves into following orders from something that is as material as vacuum. And why? Because that vacuum offers us an option for a better existance. Thing is, the only thing to existance is food, shelter, and sex. Get that right and you exist. Get a marvelous house, an amazing car, a beautiful wife, and a good salary - the only thing that improves is the food, and shelter. Sex is still the same. We have become addicted to the idea that a better house, richer food, bigger spaces, softer pillows are the essentials to life. And we're willing to sacrifice other humans to get it by placating a non-existant God.

The Christian who prays for the queer is really asking that the fag stop 'acting' against the being; so that the queer and the Christian can get better food, shelter, and sex. God doesn't give a fig whether or not we have happiness or not. If he did, he'd stop fucking around and give it to us. If we have to grovel for an all powerful being before he gives it to us - well then, God is my four year old cousin with the TV remote just before a major Rugby game. (I don't actually have a 4 year old cousin, but I needed one for the image to work, deal with it. (And I dont' watch Rugby either.)) 

I guess what I'm saying is that this bloke kills himself and our reactions are extraordinary. We all rally around the family, offer help and support. This is excellent, and something we should do more off. I however finally tell the truth about myself and my personal feelings and the same thing happens. Massive rallies are called, strangers who don't even know me suddenly start asking the most powerful being in existance to help little old me. So the point of this long post is really this: 

Don't stress about anything not directly related to food, shelter, or sex. Especially if it doesn't concern you personally. Learn to let go and rejoice that your roof doesn't leak, or that the food is a little bland. You're achieving the ultimate goal of evolution. You're surviving. Now don't go and ruin it by trying to tell others how to do it. Let them evolve as they want. All you now have to focus on is sex. And from what I hear (having not had it myself yet) it sounds pretty damned fun...