I have never been one to shy away from PRIDE. When I was but a wee lad, my brother, my tough nephew and some neighborhood guys better at boxing than I always made sure I knew I looked and acted like a sissy. In America, a sissy was a frightened boy. He might have become effeminate or GAY if no one ‘called’ OR SOUGHT TO CORRECT him on matters relating to his appearance as a boy moving toward manhood. Peers took pleasure in ridiculing such a boy. One learned how to “man-up”. In many circles during the late 20th century, this was ( and arguable still is) the norm. Today, in the face of non-binary and trans generation, the lines are being blurred – if not – outright eradicated. I don’t agree with that movement, not entirely.
Somehow I thanked the bullies who taunted me. Because I did not strive to be odd in the manner of my walk, some of my physical structure was a result of my being “born that way”. Flat feet, pigeon-toes and poor hand eye coordination. Yet I took pangs to rid my walk of my sway. I also tried to put more bass in my TENOR-LIKE voice. When hanging around those tough straight fellas, I looked upon myself as somewhat lacking in comparative stature. Still tough guys were difficult to ascertain. If one were more sensitive and given to listening (on a few occasion I saw tough guys melt and shed tears. Of course they did these things out of sight of others. But they somehow trusted me.
Some of them did their part to defend those other “sissy”fied guys. Sometimes their defensive posturing was self serving: Tough guys needed brainy guys to help with homework. In high schools gay guys were thought to be good at math. Indeed in the minds of many African American’s, intelligence was equated with being “white”or worse “effeminate”. Yet true to these stereotypes there were some sissies who the girl like. Rough and tumble guys always seem to know who they could turn to who among gay guys were known to be good for doing those difficult algebraic equations. I guess they took to books more than the ‘rough house” guys. Later in life we could ascertain who among us were destined for factory jobs and military training. I, was often “on the fence” on the other hand wished I could dribble a basket ball or strike a baseball better than I could. I never was good at sports. My lack of coordination kept me on the sidelines. No one chose me to be on their team. Yet many a times there I sat among girls, not as one of them but rather close to them. I could hear their whispers and learn to discern their temporary but truer feelings. Still, I felt I was not gay. Still I did not frown on those who chose to take the tough guy stance and bully others like me.
I understood something about the codes of oddity. It left one to being ridiculed. One has to find his own way. I stayed closer to teachers and librarians. Thus I become a book worm and for most of my young life, I stayed that way. I lived in books. I was a black boy but sought intelligence…. at least, halfheartedly. I loved books and while some thought I loved to read. It was the images in the books that attracted me.
By the time I reached high school, I noticed effeminate guys banded together. They too saw that I was different. They assumed I was some sort of strange animal. Sometimes I did not fit with the bullies, yet somehow I did not fit with them. Often, I saw them at their worst just as I peeped the bad ways of others. I came to realize, It was wise to avoid angry gay guys. Some were good at jeering and even thievery. Woe came to the guy who fell for their shenanigans and their bribes. They imposed an ugly and vengeful retribution on fools who were perceived as loners. Anyone outside the coded groups could become a target as gays sissies even younger kids were often seeking revenge for some transgression done upon them. I was to learn being gay does not shut one off from engaging in criminal behavior.
Heck, the very act of being gay, once was enough to be considered a criminal. As I grew, I found that Western society did not always embrace homosexuality and so-called diversity as it often does now. Many acts now considered “normal” used to be punishable by repressive State laws. These repressive laws often permeated the minds of those who sought entry into the mainstream even though they saw themselves as gay. Some acted out accordingly. Still times would change and now being homosexual is no longer listed as an psycho-somatic illness. Such is the dichotomy of time and morales.
WHAT ABOUT LESBIANS
While coming up, lesbians our age were simply ignored by society. I, however found them rather attractive. They, like me, seemed lost in our their own status as social outcasts. Our mid 20th century oriented society of males desires had already carved space for lesbians. They were considered extensions of the male gaze. However, a lesbian or dyke chic who proved herself not available to the sexual transgressions or the fantasy of straight guys ….Guys who sought to violate them if they could… could work their way in. Some guys would let some of them “hang around”. But girls who hung around the fringes out of the way places and secret smoking corners, or allies Either connected with my eyes or leered at me as we knew each of us were interlopers sojourning on the fringes of these closed societies.
Older lesbian were another story. In urban settings, they seemed kinda scary yet cool. As I grew and began to lose my sway, as I began to respond to my own internal developments, I found such sexual fantasies of lesbians stemmed from the femme fatale and Film Noir television images I grew up on: Female movie stars dressed in men’s attire were something to be desired. Now that I am an aging man, I realize Its a sickness when males are reared on such patriarchal biases. Yet it happened. Yet the values I acquired came form being bullied into my corner. I stayed in the no-mans land during my young adulthood. I had sex with girls yet still befriended homosexuals.
My roommate in college was a gay man. I took alot of shit from my straight male class-mates. Their retort was always to ask me “why do you room with that faggot”. I used to laugh and replied, why don’t you ask him? I knew their drunken rage would not carry over to walking up and insulting a upper class-man. Such as my roommate was. He carried clot on the campus. His suave and piercing gaze kept rift raff away from him. If they dared to call him #a faggot” in broad daylight they knew there would be a price to pay. You see there is no embarrassment greater than being publicly reprimanded by a homosexual male. Such encounters were avoided at all costs and never to be personally experienced. While I have waxed to and for on the on debates about homosexuality , I never have challenged a gay man nor lesbian woman in public. When it comes to debating, I treat all as equal with respect. If I am ever attacked for being a product of the male patriarchy society and being subjected to ridicule on any other matter than my preferences or lifestyle, then the gloves of the decency I ascribe to can come off. Then my opponent be it he or she had better be ready. That means I argue political and social issues with a vengeance. STRAIGHT NOT NARROW
SWAYING TOWARD PRIDE
It was back in 2006 while living in Atlanta, Georgia that I first took part in photographing my first Pride event. The event had just gotten underway yet a storm came out of nowhere and blew the main stage over. The next day, some argued in the press that it was an act of GOD. I for one never know what GOD approves of. I tend to shy away from those who claim to. Despite my neutrality, lines have been drawn. Camps have been created and seldom is their meaningful discussions. Even before I left the United States it seems like LBGTQ communities had shut (straight men) like me out. I suppose this is for their protection? Yet lack of communications and interaction bred contempt. Wounds once opened by transgressions can not heal.
NOW THAT I AM THE NORDIC WORLD
Saturday September 1 2018, I will traveled to Karjaa to photograph the days Raseborg Pride 2018 Parad Kulkue Puistojuhla Parkfest festivities. Just two days ago, I attended this first committee meeting to create Raseborg Pride 2019 planeringsmöte / suunnittelukokous 2019. I remain STRAIGHT NOT NARROW. Not narrow minded. Look for more in the coming months, STRAIGHT NOT NARROW. You should try it. Time and changing morals waits for no one. As to my own challenges, I don’t walk with a sway anymore. Old age is setting in and now I walk with a limp. I have not been called out for living with a ‘faggot’ anymore. I am HAPPILY married to a woman and still repressing some of the patriarchal lifestyles I grew up under.
Testimonials & Lies 