Gay-Acting Is So Masculine

This post submitted by Jeremy, who also feels that fashion should matter to you.

It’s true – for all the demands for a butch partner by gay guys, somehow a bit of fruitiness reveals a truly masculine persona.

Many people misunderstand masculinity as being an amalgam of superficial attributes – a deep voice, a cocky swagger, an interest in athletics. Masculinity, however, is a more abstract and principled concept, one that, ironically, is often invoked by feminine mannerisms.

A lack of self-consciousness is a basic tenet of an attractive masculinity. A man who makes no apologies for his presentation wields an enviable appeal. Whether that presentation consists of sibilant S’s and a “theatrical” style is inconsequential. An affected reservation however exudes constant self-doubt. Sure, a sense of propriety and respect for proper decorum in certain settings is necessary, but a demeanor that reveals an excessive level of questioning oneself in service of butch appeal is not manly.

A bit of daring is also associated with maleness, and what’s more daring than dabbling in femininity? All men know that effeminacy has harsh social sanctions against it – so the guy who can get away with exhibiting the right amount wins some man points. I had a pretty masculine straight co-worker who would had long hair and would sometimes come to work with his hair done in two French braids crowning his head like a princess. The incongruity between the do and his persona, mixed with the fact that he was bold enough to wear it, increased his appeal. Keep in mind that the style only teetered on border of what’s acceptable for a guy – if it were so outrageous that it seemed he was begging for attention then all appeal would have been lost (in fact my complimenting him on his “princess’s crown” gave him second thoughts about it). I have another straight friend who openly makes it a point to portray a macho image, to the extent that he refuses to smile for pictures. Yet somehow that image is solidified by the fact that he sports an extremely long, flouncy ponytail when he doesn’t have it up in a bun. A whirlwind shredding of gender expectations is sexually exciting, too. A fussy, fey top is a weakness of mine. While butch tops are the boring expectation, there’s nothing like lying on your back and seeing a persnickety, nasal-voiced tight-ass holding your legs in the air and pounding away at you.

But the most important attribute of masculinity is an air of security. Security in one’s manhood – in the knowledge that you exhibit the substantial qualities that define you as a “man” in society. A security that an affected machismo completely belies. A macho affectation is borne by those who feel powerless in more influential areas of society. Foppishness, on the other hand, is a luxury of the more comfortable classes. Take the example of a typical tough guy from a rough neighborhood. His sex appeal is easily understood. He has all of the superficial attributes of a manly man - a muscular build, a short haircut, a perpetual mug. He looks like he can protect himself and others from the physical dangers he’s likely to encounter in his surroundings, and that look works to intimidate potential enemies. But any crack in his soldier image, like say a polka-dot bow worn in his hair, would invite dangerous people to test his ability to defend himself. That’s exactly why said polka-dot bow would be the best testament to his self-security, and thus masculinity. It signals to everyone that he’s tough enough to take on the multitude of people who would take issue with him wearing it. In other words, it’s a simple manifestation of the handicap principle – a sexual strategy where animals demonstrate their physical fitness through behavior that intentionally handicaps them. The affable guy with the hair bow in the middle of the ghetto ends up being sexier than the guy who has to mug all the time and wear bland, monochrome clothing. This extends, naturally, to broader society, where the faggy guy demonstrates both an inner-peace and a secure societal position through behavior that holds the danger of turning off strangers.

So while we all may feel the pressure to “butch up” from the community, think twice about attempting to reign in all your feminine traits. You may end up extinguishing an ample source of your appeal.

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Dude, Where's the Keg?: Gay DC House Party Etiquette

With the temperature rising, and the probability of old scary looking men wearing tank tops on 17th street increasing, the number of house and patio parties will soon follow suit. These are important social events that consume quite a bit of conversation and gossip both leading up to and following them. In other words, they need to be taken very seriously. We here at TNG do not want you to flounder when attending these sacred events. Therefore, we have assembled some pointers on how to make the most of a gay DC house party.

The Evite
All gay DC house parties begin with an Evite, which is the invitation equivalent of a Wal-Mart or a Pizza Hut. This has always puzzled me. Gays will spend an obscene amount of money on jeans or (what they think is high end) art, but yet have no qualms about sending out tacky Evites to everyone in the city. The beauty of an Evite, however, is that you can see the guest list and mentally prepare for running into your ex's, enemies, frenemies, co-workers, and internet hook-ups. A key piece of information on the Evite is the number of guests invited. If it is 30 or less, you probably shouldn't roll up with eight of your somewhat close friends. Anything approaching 50 or more is fair game, and you can safely tell everyone on Facebook.

All Evites give you the option to reply yes, no, or maybe, and to add a message. Gays love the message option as it gives them the chance to show how witty they are. Expect deep prose such as "Wouldn't miss it! Hope you have enough vodka HA HA :) " or "Count me in, I love margaritas!!!" Those who can't attend usually indicate that they are doing something more fabulous, but will raise an obligatory toast to the occasion: "Sorry, Gary and I will be on a private island off the coast of Mexico, but we'll do a shot in your honor." Those who respond maybe are not coming to the party. These are the non-commital types who want to express that they would be there if it weren't for the other, more interesting and cooler party they are actually attending that night: "I have a birthday to attend, but will try to make it." Birthdays are common "maybe" excuses since anyone's birthday trumps a non-occasion party. I suggest you respond yes (or no), never respond maybe, and resist the urge to write a cutesy message. Also, don't artificially inflate the guest count by responding that you will be bringing 48 guests. There is always someone who will do that to be cute and funny, and that guy is usually an asshole.

Attire
Let's face it, DC is not a stylish city. Even at the "most fierce party" everyone will be wearing a tight-Ben-Sherman-Polo-ish-collared shirt. It is a safe assumption that every shade of the rainbow (pun intended) in cotton with a collar will be represented at any DC gay house party. In the summer this will be accompanied with khaki shorts and flip flops. In the fall/spring, the khaki shorts will give way to tight jeans, but the flip flops will remain. Gays love showing off their feet via flip flops. Their outfits and hair products will likely exceed 200 dollars, but standing around nearly barefoot is considered classy in these parts. I have never understood this. It is not until the chill of winter that the gays don shoes. In short, it doesn't take a whole lot of effort to look even remotely stylish. Avoid gold chains and jean shorts. Note: anyone wearing a baseball hat is a bottom.

Arrival Time
The rule of thumb is to be stylishly late. That rule is for (thumb) suckers. Arrive unfashionably early. Why? Alcohol. At the beginning of the party you have your pick of the litter. You can easily get in 2-3 rum and cokes before the cologne-drenched masses arrive. I don't understand why more folks don't appreciate the beauty of this simple concept: The early bird gets the worm. Once the party kicks in, the alcohol starts to disappear faster than a butch sounding voice at showtunes night at JRs. (Note to the hosts: it is usually the mixers and ice that run out first, leaving guests to stir up such magical creations as a rum and OJ, or rail-gin with a splash of water. Do everyone a favor and have an ample supply of soda, tonic, and juice.)

Another good thing about arriving early is that you get the lay of the land. Make a mental note of where the "extra" bathroom is, should there be one. You can avoid the pisser-line later on when the apple-tinis start to run their course. You might even be able to get a glimpse of where the back-up liquor is stored. This is key should the supplies start to run low.

Socializing
This is how gay DC works: everyone stands around with their friends and either ignores everyone else, or sneers at everyone else. Multiply this times 20 and you have a gay DC house party. Once someone in one group recognizes an acquaintance in another group, the two groups can open up, and introductions can be made. Until then, however, it is like a bad high school cafeteria. I don't have the solution to this, so I am just asking that you gay DC (collectively), please take the stick out of your ass and be polite and social when you are at a party. Also, please offer something more than your job on the Hill/campaign or your law school. If there is nothing else interesting about you, then please do the rest of us a favor and drink at home alone. Or better yet, move.

The Bathroom Line
If you weren't able to scope out that secret bathroom, you will be stuck in line waiting to pee. This is always time to make small talk with other attendees who you might not otherwise meet. For some reason, I tend to get stuck in line with (1) the only girl at the party who wants to shower with me with compliments; or (2) the creepiest kid who probably isn't 20 and has a belly-button ring. I have no real strategy for dealing with this other than to fake an important text message conversation or to pretend like you are too deaf to hear them.

Once inside the bathroom, remember that gay guys in DC are usually sickeningly wealthy and like to feel special by using an array of fancy toiletries. TNG does not endorse stealing. All I am saying is that at some point you will be alone in a bathroom with lots of expensive soap. Use your own judgment and morals.

The Music
It will suck. Don't tinker with the Ipod, however. It is just rude. Even if the host is your best friend and/or they are playing Whitney's "I Want to Dance with Somebody." Also, don't be friends with people who have Whitney's "I Want to Dance with Somebody" on their Ipod.

Drinking
Let's face it, you are there for tail. To get tail you must first drink. If you are like me, you tend to make one of two mistakes: (1) you drink too much, stare at the guy you like all night, don't talk to him, then go home to jerk off while thinking of him; or (2) you drink too much, approach the guy, and make an asshole out of yourself. Both of these errors result from drinking too much. I know I encouraged you to arrive early for the booze, but you need to master the art of pacing yourself so that you can get tail. Try to remind yourself, bunnies and puppies are cute; slackened facial musculature, slurred confessionals, and "I'm so drunk" are not.

Let me give you some pointers on pacing yourself. First, go the bathroom (preferably the secret one) every half hour or so, even if you don't have to use it. Take note of whether your ears are ringing, the toilet paper holder is unusually fascinating, or you're having a hard time handling soap. Second, count your drinks. It is pretty simple, but no one ever does this. If you get to a prime number over five you should probably stop. Lastly, watch the guy you are interested in. Make sure he is always one drink ahead of you. If you start to pass your tipping point, make sure that you are never talking louder, taking more, or wearing less clothing than he is.

Brunch
Relive all the memories and mishaps of last night with all your friends over eggs and bloody mary's. Yup, you are gay and you live in DC. Own it.

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A Life or a Lifestyle?

Queer life is pretty complicated. Unlike the straight world, our relationships are often defined by new terms such as "partner" or "special friend" instead of the straightforward boyfriend to fiance to husband. These new terms are often used by people who live far outside of the queer universe. What's evident is that far too many straight people lack the sensitivity and knowledge needed to speak about queers without pissing us off.

One of my biggest pet peeves is the term "lifestyle" to refer to the way we homos live. The term is usually used in a sentence, such as "I don't dislike him as a person, I just disapprove of his lifestyle." Whoosh! There I go, through the roof.

That's not to say that there isn't such a thing as a gay lifestyle. There is one. And it's generally what TNG is working to promote alternatives to. In my understanding of the gay lifestyle, gay men: wear lots of cologne; have sex with each other at the drop of a dime; spend more time at the gym and the mall than at work or being otherwise productive; spend more time having sex or looking for it than working out or shopping; use the word "fabulous" whenever they mean "good", "great", "fine", "well", "okay", or "terrific"; are either drinking or recovering from drinking, or both; are always ready with a clever quip delivered with a snap. Those sorts of things are what comprise a lifestyle. However, not every gay man maintains that lifestyle. Actually, very few — if any — actually do.

My lifestyle is defined by my core values. Those values translate into the following rules that I aim to keep every day of my life: Treat others as you would want to be treated; leave everything the way you find it, if not better; respect all life; to the extent that the other rules are observed, anything is okay in moderation. These rules result in a lifestyle that includes, among others, a career I'm passionate about, home-cooking 90% of the food that goes into my body, keeping fit and active through yoga, cycling and working out at the gym, living without a car, trying to help people in any way I can. So what if I'm attracted to men. How could that one fact that taint the otherwise respectable lifestyle I've fashioned for myself?

Most people who would be heard voicing the above quote about disapproving of the gay lifestyle actually have lifestyles that I disapprove of. They're living the American Dream, complete with two-car garage, 2.5 kids, white picket fence, a chicken in every pot... Basically, the pursuit of happiness at the expense of their personal health and the health of our planet and our collective future. How much of that is linked to their sexual orientation? Chances are, there are queers living right next door to them, attending their block parties and raising kids that sit next to their own in the elementary school down the street, maintaining the exact same "lifestyle" they are. Yet having gay sex behind their closed doors.

You don't see me protesting their suburban block parties, where they gather to celebrate their lifestyles, angrily telling them that they need to change the way in which they live. But maybe some day I will. And when I'm there, I'll make sure to inform them that they shouldn't use the term "lifestyle" to refer to queers and the fact that we have sex with people of the same gender.

Now, not all straight folk are completely uneducated when it comes to the ability to discuss queer lives. I have an aunt who is progressive enough to not only stay at a gay bed and breakfast, but upon arrival ask the bearish proprietors whether they mind having a "couple of breeders" staying at their inn. This is a true story, and she felt the need to tell me this story so that I knew that she was capable of relating to me with understanding and compassion. And I appreciated that.

We as a culture should be working to help educate the people around us. We need to talk to our straight neighbors, colleagues, family members. We need to talk openly and candidly about ourselves and use terminology with which they might not be familiar. It's our job as the men and women who live valid gay lives to share our experiences and with those "breeders" who, unlike my aunt, have no idea how to talk to us.

Coda: The image above was created by me, but based on a Coors Light ad I found somewhere on the interweb. Obviously the employees at the marketing firm for Coors Light have bought into the Gay Lifestyle idea, and think that we gays spend all our time lounging by the pool with our hot friends.

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Does Either Party Deserve Our Vote?

The last issue of OUT magazine featured an article on Gay Republicans. This article generated such a great deal of mail from the gay republican contingent of our community that the writer of the article wrote a rebuttal to the original article.

The gist of the first article was that the closet is a bad place to be, and many if not most gay republicans who work on Capitol Hill have locked themselves inside it. Being gay and out in Washington is a quick way to lose power—something that gay republicans seem to value more than their own self-respect. Many of the republican commenters took issue with the article, stating that it was little more than a hit piece with no representation from actual republicans.

The rebuttal was simple enough. The writer, Charles Kaiser, responded that in spite of the backlash, “none of his detractors challenged any of the facts in his piece”:

“closeted gay Republican Congressmen and Senators have a very long history of voting against the interests of gay people -- whether the subject is gay marriage, gays in the military, or something as basic as the Employment Nondiscrimination Act, a law that would make it illegal to fire someone just because he or she is gay. And many talented gay Republicans -- inside and outside of the closet -- agree with David Duncan, that there’s nothing wrong with working for someone with homophobic positions, if gay bashing is the price you have to pay to keep a Republican Congressman in office.”

Regardless of the foul play claimed by gay republicans, the fact remains that they continue support people who steadfastly work to deny equal rights to gay people. As Kaiser goes on to write:

“I salute the Log Cabin Republicans for their efforts to change their party from within, and I’m sorry I didn’t include more of them in my piece. But it’s hard to see that they’ve made much of a difference, when every Democratic presidential candidate in 2008 favored an end to don’t ask, don’t tell, and every Republican was in favor of continuing it; every Democratic candidate participated in a discussion of gay issues on Logo, while every Republican boycotted it; and McCain, Thompson, Huckabee and Romney all opposed passage of the federal Employment Non-Discrimination Act, while every major Democratic candidate supported it.”

While most gay people have enough self-respect to not put any issue above equality under the law, does this mean we should automatically vote democrat?

No.

As one commenter aptly wrote:

“the liberals gave us Don't Ask/Don't Tell, the Defense of Marriage Act and it was a liberal governor who gave Texans that famous anti-sodomy law. Gay liberals dump millions of dollars and votes on people who have routinely passed ant-gay laws.”

Sure, there are ways that liberals explain these acts of gay bigotry, but the fact remains that they didn’t fight for us when we needed them. Most gay people I know slavishly support Hillary Clinton for President, yet:

-she won’t stand up for full marriage equality Obama doesn't either

-she won't reject “don’t ask/don’t tell” based on discrimination (in public she only admits opposing it because it depletes our military) Obama does

-she won't (on her own accord) mention gay people in speeches unless she’s speaking at a gay event, usually fundraisers. Obama does

-she doesn't list any GLBT links from her website, probably for fear of anti-gay supporters finding them (her base is more blue-collar and less educated than Obama's). Instead she provides a separate GLBT site that she disseminates in some indirect way. Obama's LGBT resources are easy to find on his website

-she is against repeal of DOMA. Obama says it should be repealed

Hillary lovers always tell me that she can’t really say what she feels, for political reasons, but why should I be in Hillary’s closet if I’m not in my own? I never accomplished anything transcendant while in the closet, and neither will she. Her husband enacted “Don't Ask Don't Tell” when he had a Democratic Congress and enacted the Defense of Marriage Act (and then heavily campaigned on his support of it in the South), and he we gave him a pass. Hillary learned from him. She knows that LGBT people will vote Democratic, and she counts on us not going elsewhere. These are the people we give our money and support to? Obama has a true outsider's perspective by nature of his story and he presents himself as a refreshing presence that might not be ashamed of us in the light of day, but by what party precedent do we trust him? Put our trust in an unproven guy who gives a good speech? Bill Clinton gave good speeches too.

The sad fact is that neither party deserves the support we give them. While Democrats have been good for us on a number of fronts, if we continue to support either party in the way we have grown accustomed, we will continue to be taken for granted. Regardless of party, gay people have by and large acquiesced to an incremental strategy of change that to this point hasn’t provided jack shit, unless you want to count President Clinton’s decision to ban workplace discrimination in the federal government. Aww, how nice. Now Republicans have recourse when their bosses try to fire them for being the very thing they work to marginalize. Excuse me if I'm not filling out my DNC pledge card.

This misplaced trust our community provides isn't limited to politicians. I found out last week that the Human Rights Campaign gave their endorsement to U.S. Senators that voted for a number of judges, two of which are now on the Supreme Court, who will undermine our basic rights long after these Senators’ political careers are over. Disgusting.

We need to demand more from our politicians. We need to demand more from the gay organizations we support. We need to demand more from ourselves.

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The Couple in the Group House

When I first moved to D.C., I lived in a group-house-in-name-only. We were a bunch of Craigslist randoms that just happened to cohabitate. The sheer nonsense of our union was exposed when I left work early one afternoon only to return home to an improvised meth lab, constructed like an elaborate game of Mousetrap™, throughout our house’s first floor.

As I acclimated to the D.C. queer scene and met more people, I traded weird dormitory-style living arrangements borne of necessity for more cohesive, organic group house settings--pretty much all in Columbia Heights. You don’t have to be Tangina (pictured) to sense the poltergeists of gentrification encircling the Party on a Whim aisle of the new Target, and likewise sending housing (group or other) in the Cola Hey into total chaos. So inevitably, my house sold into million dollar condos, and I was left scrambling for a new place to find passive aggressive notes about dishes and/or bills.

My girlfriend was moving into the Aqueerium at 14th and Monroe--a still to this day shambolic utopia of dance parties, DIY music-making, and well-fed garden rats. My temporary decision to move in with her until I found housing turned into nigh-on three years of living together in group houses. Sure it’s awesome to pay under $200 a month in rent, and sharing a room seems more feasible in the honeymoon phase of a relationship (okay maybe this is a particularly dykey statement). These perks aside, being the couple in the group house pretty much sucks an elephant-in-the-room-sized-dick.

I have to preface this by saying I love my friends that have lived with me and my gf over the years. But let’s be honest, no friends, no matter how close, want to partake in the cuddliness, mundane domestic logistics, or naked contempt that are part and parcel to the average relationship. Friend relationships within the house begin to morph around “the unit” of the couple; meanwhile, the couple is struggling to stay relevant as individuals while working on growing together in healthy ways.

Last year, my group house disbanded, and I got my own place with the gf. I’m sad that we’re all a little more scattered and a little less entwined, but I think it’s probably for the best. When I bike past my old group-haunts in the Heights, it is almost as if I can hear Tangina cackle, “This house is clean!” (of couples).

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Thanks, Al Gore

I’ve been out of life-commission for about two weeks now. I should be able to blame this on the fact that I was juggling grad school finals and a 50-hour work-week; pathetically, however, I cannot. In order to displace the blame from myself, though, there is only one other entity for me to point a finger at: the Internet. Last week, I described Facebook to someone as a black hole of integrity; however, the Internet itself – the whole World Wide Web – is even worse than just FB. I say this because for me the Internet has become a black hole of not just integrity, but also time, real life conversations, fresh air, and hobbies. In fact, I am beginning to think that this fandangled Internet may be doing my life way more bad than good.


Zack has already commented on how the Internet has the ability to bring out his inner-creepster, and from the comments people left and from mine and my friends’ experiences, I am positive he is not alone. For each hour that I am at my computer supposed to be doing something productive (which is often because I’m a grad student and a teacher), you can bet that I spend at least twenty minutes being a creepster, perusing unimportant vice-sites, or living in the past via online pictures of myself and friends. The list of most-visited sites that drops down when I begin to type “www.” into my location bar is a shame, and the ridiculous number of social networking sites I’m a member of is an embarrassment. I have my homepage set to the news, and I feel like poseur each time I see it. Because of the Internet, I know more information about celebrities and acquaintances than is sometimes comfortable. In fact, although it may still be a long ways away, I am crossing my fingers that soon our generation makes the transition into it being socially acceptable to say, “Oh, I know that your second cousin’s brother goes to my alma mater because I stumbled across him following link after link from your profile – anyway, does he like it there?”

What’s worse than the Internet turning us into creepsters, though, is the culture of instant gratification and impatience that it fosters. The Internet is training us to live in a mind-frame of “what I want right now, I can have right now.” When I want to buy something, I can be purchasing it in the time it takes me to whip out my credit card. If I think of something I meant to tell someone, I can type it out and have my message in their inbox within minutes. Furthermore, as a person who is pretty impatient already, I feel like the Internet is making this personality trait even worse, or otherwise giving me ADD. Hardly a day goes by when I don’t have a thought like: Why isn’t my Blockbuster movie here, yet – I sent my other one back two days ago? Why hasn’t he responded to my email – I sent it like thirty minutes ago? And never can I sit down to do research without opening up five other tabs to do Google and/or Wikipedia searches of whatever pops into my head.

Today, I feel like I literally depend on the Internet – for communicating, for news, for being so Nuevo Gay, and for knowing the general interests and favorite music of anyone I have a conversation with. In fact, the two times in the past three years when I lived in Internetless apartments, my roommates and I would essentially balance on one toe while holding our computers inside the microwave if that’s what it took to pick up a nearby wireless signal. However, after my pathetic and unproductive past two weeks, I’ve been thinking that one day soon I may try to quit the Internet for a substantial amount of time. Sure, maybe I’ll get fired, lose any Ohio friends I have left, forget to wish some good friends happy birthday, and probably run up a $500 cell phone bill by replacing Gchat with texting, but it will reassure me that humanity does not equal technology.

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On Manscaping, Manhunt and More (or How to Be a Fag in Three Not-So-Easy Lessons) Part III

This post is the third in a three part series that was submitted by Al, who is a queer transman and fed up observer of local gay culture. Read the first two posts here.

Once in a rare while a seemingly decent guy did make it through to actually communicating with me more than once. At this point it should have been easy, breezy, beautiful, cover girl, n’est pas? Not so fast. Being trans may be ok with some guys, and they may have accepted my lack of gym bunny physique, but what of the other ways in which I don’t measure up? A new group of truths to disclose felt like a heavy burden.

Let’s begin by examining the average profile of one of my manhunt admirers in order to illuminate our differences. Sample: “discreet, straight-acting, masculine guy seeks same for NSA fun...” I don’t know how a guy goes about acting straight other than by fucking women, and does that really disqualify someone as queer? Wait, these guys aren’t queer, they’re gay.

The word “masculine” is another item I take to task. It is used often and I haven’t yet determined how it differs from “straight-acting.” The issue is that regardless of semantics, I am far from straight acting and not uber masculine. I can be one flaming, queeny, effeminate kind of faggot. I have been known to sashay as opposed to walk, use my limp wrist to point out quality couture in passing, and yes, I have a Hello Kitty collection (and a damned impressive one to boot). Testosterone may have lowered my voice, but I am never mistaken for straight on the phone and if you met me in person you wouldn’t need to hear that lilt as my wardrobe, complete with junior-sized girls short-shorts and tight graphic tees in my favorite color, pink, would hit you first, bitches! This is a tough one as effeminacy can be mistaken for femininity with someone who was assigned female at birth.

The aforementioned traits are in no way an indication that I’m lousy at being ftm. As if being told I’m not trans enough by other ftms for this very reason isn’t enough, I get girlified by cisfags too. Funny, I wasn’t aware that I had entered a gender contest. I only hope there’s a tiara for the winner.

A different portion of these profiles could be termed “fantasyland.” No, we’re not in Disney World and I’m not referencing fantasy football either (obviously.) I’m talking about the second line of our sample profile “in shape-gym 5x a week, you be too. 8” cut. Smooth...” Just being online and trusting that these pictures are actually of the people posting requires the suspension of disbelief, but really now, I’m supposed to believe all this? The only reason these Calvin Clones go to the gym that much, if that is true, is to get action in the steam room. Provided this is a good way to burn off calories, but it’s not going to get you in shape for the next gay games (unless they’ve added watersports). I go to my gym regularly, but really, who has that much time? Between working out and getting waxed these guys must be exhausted. Your supposed 8” aren’t going to mean a thing when you’re too tired to rise to the occasion.

Page upon page of snooty, PNP power-bottoms with mug shots of their bleached ass holes (do their mothers know those are out there for the world to see?) have left me lusting for a new site. In fact, I’d like to launch realqueerguyhunt.com, your one-stop shopping spot for real, decent guys who don’t use fake tanner, don’t go to gyms that necessitated getting a personal trainer to get in shape enough to join in the first place, and who don’t suffer from factitious disorder. And no, this site isn’t sponsored by Absolut Vodka. I’m calling all you queer guys who only have a two-pack, you scrawny emo guys who wear skinny jeans (you know you’re my faves), you truly radical and progressive types who fight against HRC assimilationists and their sterilized version of liberalism, you guys who know safer sex can be hot, you guys who listen to Tegan and Sarah, and of course you guys who don’t think what’s under my clothes makes me a girl. I know you’re out there and I bet you feel as insecure as I do in certain gay spaces.

I have a penchant for dramatic retellings, naturally, but I have met some good guys and do feel like a part of something. I was thrilled when my fag co-workers starting referring to me the way they do each other. For instance, when someone addresses the entire group they say “ladies” and if someone likes your shirt they compliment your lovely “blouse.” Ok, so some refer to their own junk as pussies, but refrain from using that term when it comes to me; discretion is a good thing. You see, faggotry isn’t simply the act of lusting after and loving other guys. It is a culture like any other whose particulars must be absorbed through various measures. This culture comes complete with its own foods (did you remember to pick up some cous cous at the Whole foods?); costumes (where did I put that Ben Sherman track jacket?) and customs (use your imagination). All cultures also have diversity; in this case I may need to search far beyond the city limits to find it.

So what would my profile on the new site read? How about this:
Headline: wicked smart, effeminate boy who used to be a girl seeks actual dates!

5’3, kinda muscular and slim, but sporting a little belly pooch. Will shave shoulders for second date. Interests: vegan baking, contemporary art, fashion, and collecting vintage Hello Kitty stationary. DDF, you be too. No BB or PNP. Post-graduate work a plus, but not required. Non-monogamy is ok, but cheating on your bf isn’t. Alternative, punk, artsy and emo guys will be given preference, as will genuine sweethearts. Interested? Email me.

*face pic required

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Phase 1: Ladies Only for Good?

This post was submitted by Meaghan, who loves the Phase and karaoke.

I wrote a post a few weeks back about Phase 1 Lounge and why I love it with most every fiber of my being. There were supportive replies and, as per usual, some replies from [gay] men about their distaste for a bar that won't let them in the door "without a vagina". I find that whenever I express my love for the Phase in a crowd of DC queers, I'm met with the same questions and snarls. Michael, who has been great about offering suggestions and opinions about everything I've submitted to TNG, posed a similar question/argument this morning. It inspired me to go into a more lengthy explanation of the notorious Phase policy, and hopefully shed some light or open up some conversation about its history and place in the new gay DC.

"All Males must have a Female Escort"

The policy at Phase 1 is hotly contested, discussed, and argued but it's also historical. Phase has been open for 38 years and the policy was established to protect the patrons. The policy was similar to that which was created (the bars have the same owners, Allen Carroll and Chris Jenson) for Ziegfield's/Secrets. In fact, I was informed that the Ziegfield's/Secrets policy was more restrictive. Both bars were situated in a part of the city that was notoriously unsafe, and they were erected at times in history when there was no safe place for queer people.

The policy at Phase has lingered not only because of the owner who enforces it regularly but because of the clientele. Phase-goers expect a space that is tipped in favor of their sexual preference, and that is often not the case in many establishments (even ladies nights) across the city. Additionally, when the deck in stacked in favor of men...across the board, internationally...there is little to no reason why women shouldn't be able to make exclusive space, or space that is highly restricted in their favor. The policy is not "no men allowed" or "men pay more" or "men will be heckled relentlessly if they dare to come in". The policy is "if you look like an asshole, or a Marine from down the street, or insist that it is your God-given right to come into a lesbian bar, or screech about how it's discrimination" you probably won't get in. But if you stand at the door, with your female escort, and you are respectful, courteous and consistently aware that your presence is a privilege and not a right, then you'll get in. And this is pretty much exclusive to Friday and Saturday nights, when there are tons of people. If you come in on a Thursday or Sunday, you probably won't have to face the policy.

There is a lot of frustration on both ends about this policy, and there are constant discussions about the policy and how it affects the livelihood of the bar. But one must understand that the imbalance of sexism and heterosexism still exists and creating exclusive/restrictive space is a way in which marginalized people can feel safe when the "mean streets" continue to do little to nothing to protect them. Speaking as a self-identified queer dyke with a gay brother who frequented DC establishments before he moved to NYC, I will say that men in this city are notoriously disrespectful to lesbians/dykes and even transfolk. Back when Wet existed, women who walked into the bar were hissed and lunged at for invading "men space". Gay men still take it upon themselves to invade MY personal space when I'm out in "neutral" bars or even at private parties. While I realize that my experience is very limited, get a group of lesbians together who have frequented places in DC and you will hear a resounding cry of ENOUGH. We're sick of being judged, fondled, oogled, and disrespected. So instead of challenging the policy at Phase, I would think it would be more important to ask DC's gay men and their chromosomally-similar friends and neighbors to start acting like they deserve the privilege.

I realize that TNG is doing its part to change the face of gayness in DC, but I do feel it's responsible and reasonable to consider what has been. Being a cisgendered man comes with a significant amount of privilege, even if you're gay. And with privilege comes the responsibility to deconstruct what has been, including behaviors attributed to your community but not specifically to you, in order to repair it and create fantastic newness. There is not a point at which someone, especially men when it relates to women-space, decides things have changed and everyone must play along. Lesbians are still tender, still sore, still hurting from the crap we've been through over the years, so complaining about our safe space and how it makes you feel does little to nothing to inspire us to move on and move through.

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Thoughts on Queer Spirituality

This post was submitted by frequent commenter Greg.
Especially during election years (and in Washington, when the hell isn't it an election year), we're always at the mercy of religious rhetoric. Whether it's the fundamentalist Christians' attempts to dictate public policy or Democrats pandering to and/or hoping to reclaim the "faith vote," it's hard not to see religion popping up in media reports and conversations around the city and the nation.

All-too-often that leaves queer folks out in the cold, through choice or exile (or, often, some combination of both). As a queer, it's one of my greatest heartbreaks that LGBTQI (whatever) people have been dispossessed of a rich and powerful spiritual heritage — one where we were often the edge-walkers, shape-shifters, and spiritual hearts of our communities around the world.

Like anyone who's done a modicum of research on queer history, I came across the idea of "two-spirited" people of the North American indigenous cultures — people who were believed to possess the spirit of both a man and a woman — and I was deeply inspired by this construct. These were cultures where a third-gender, one that was both male and female (and also neither) was part of the everyday.

A few years ago, a dear beloved of mine gave me a copy of Randy P. Conner's "Blossom of Bone: Reclaiming the Connections Between Homoeroticism and the Sacred," and reading it became a watershed moment. I learned of queer priestesses from the Mediterranean to Africa, gender-variant sexual healers in the Middle East, queer Santeros (followers of the African diasporic faith Santeria), and countless other peoples throughout time and history who found their (what I would call today) queer identities to be their sources of power.

I devoted myself years ago to an Earth-centered path, proudly calling myself a witch and actively devoting myself to Queer Spirit paths — roads of beauty, delight, deep authenticity, freedom and the powers of pleasure. I look to the past as I try to create a future for myself and hopefully for other queer people in my life — yes, there's a healthy dose of old gay in this new gay.

My choices to commit to a spiritual life has had a profound effect on my everyday goings-on and my outlook on the world.

Part of what's central to me about Queer Spirit is the dismantling of patriarchal/hierarchical ways of expression, thought, and belief, as well as living an authentic, unapologetic existence.

Gay rights pioneer Harry Hay coined a term that frequently serves as a touchstone for my relationships with others and even with divinity itself: subject-subject consciousness. This is the idea that queer people embody the possibility of relating to each other as true equals, co-creators in the moment. Straight couples carry around years of baggage surrounding gender inequity, but gay couples can capitalize on not having to wade through misogyny because of the very nature of our relationships.

(All the more reason why adopting negative connotative attitudes around seeming sub-identities in the queer community — top/bottom, femme/butch — is such an unfortunate occurrence. When we shit on some guy for being a nelly queen, we assert ourselves as tools of patriarchy, judgment, and classification based on misogynistic, subject-object consciousness — not co-creative, subject-subject consciousness.)

In my spiritual practice, I believe in various deities and interact with them through prayer, trance and regular conversations. However, with Queer Spirit as a basis for my religious beliefs, I do not think of deity as "greater" than me. Deity is not "better" than any of us. Deity is simply another form of existence, one that has a different set of perspectives, but not one that has any right to demand I do certain things, pay obeisance, or mindlessly sacrifice things in my life that are important to me (Yahweh would have gotten a grand "fuck you" if he asked me to sacrifice my son).

As for living an authentic life, I believe doing so is one of the greatest gifts that queer people can give themselves and the world at large. When we continue to be harassed around the globe with everything from insensitivity to death, standing up and choosing to live our lives as who we are is a revolutionary act, one that can be extrapolated into other arenas of our lives.

Once I came out and chose to live as an open gay man, it became more difficult not to be open in other areas of my life — everything from emotional authenticity with my partner to political authenticity (no, I will not vote for a Democrat who believes we aren't full human beings under the law just to oust a Republican). I realized that I identify much more with those third-gendered types than with men, and my having a cock and using it with delight doesn't precipitate my expression as someone who knows "himself" to be both male and female and neither.

This authenticity born from a Queer perspective also leads me to follow my dreams, my desires and my inspiration. I don't have to settle in my life for anything. I only have to act according to my core values and reach for the brass ring, embracing all the wild joy and wrenching pain that process engenders.

I would love to hear feedback from people about their interactions with spirituality and what it means in their lives (both positive and negative). I think it's high time that queers start to expand the dialogue away from standard "The-Lord-Is-My-Shepherd" talk to how our very identities shape our beliefs about ourselves and the world at large.

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Listless

This week, Time Magazine released its 2008 list of the 100 most influential people, and I just wasted close to an hour trolling the list for queers. You know who I found? Karl Lagerfeld and Suze Orman (all those popped collars don't lie). Yeah, the creepy old Nosferatu of fashion and dieting, and the lady that makes me feel like shit for just paying the interest on my student loans. Okay, so Oprah’s on the list and we all know about Gayle, maybe designer Takashi Murakami and golfer Lorena Ochoa are undercover ‘mos, and I guess you could argue that Angelina Jolie is bi-serious. But otherwise, this list seems short on queer representatives.

Maybe it’s just Time catering to a more mainstream audience, maybe lists are passé, maybe nowadays influential queers don’t feel the need to make a case of their sexuality, maybe in times of war and recession queer issues become backseat or absorbed into bigger concerns?

Scanning the queer press, I come up with names like Thomas Beatie, Irshad Manji, John Waters, Anthony Romero, Perez Hilton, Donna Rose, Lawrence King, and Lance Bass. When I think about iconic queer figures, it’s always through sepia-toned lenses (i.e. nostalgia for heroes of yesterqueer, like David Wojnarowicz--pictured).

There have to be some current queer leaders and revolutionaries, heroes and pioneers, scientists and thinkers, artists and entertainers, and builders and titans missing from this list.

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Theoretical Connections

John Marble's note about the BYT party and the craigslist M4M ads posted in it's wake reminded me of this video (above) from Jed Brubaker, a guy I met at the last TNG party. Jed is a graduate student in communications and technology, and craigslist “missed connections” are an interest of his. I’ve never read Jed’s research, and to be quite honest, his video (above) confuses me. I'll be the first to admit that maybe I'm not smart enough to figure out queer theory (Foucault? Gobbeldy-Gook), but I am intrigued by how gay identity is decided and debated online in ways that don’t take place offline, and done so in a way that the entire world can take part in, whether through craigslist, Facebook, or even here on TNG.

Jed mentions in this post a particular craigslist debate that is often evident on TNG as well: the dissatisfaction with mainstream gay culture felt by gay people who live in DC. As with TNG, the responses to one man's post about his dissatisfaction were fierce, cuminating in a discussion about identity which transcended the individual who made the post. In referencing another writer, Jed goes on to mention how “modern group identities are built on collective experience.” Being that our gay identity is “fractured,” and not completely homogenized, I suppose such a furious online dialogue is understandable among people who have had very different gay cultural experiences.

While going online seems to provide more options for communicating, connecting, and understanding one another, It's probably worth our time to ask ourselves if the medium of online interaction is ultimately a boon or a burden. I’m the first to admit that it might be a mixed bag.

I’ve certainly grown in understanding and patience since I’ve started contributing to TNG, and it’s made me reflect on my life and beliefs and helped me organize my thinking. For me, getting other people involved in the same process of discussion and refelction was a central appeal. But what about potential downsides? People are often mean and dismissive online, often because they can be so anonymously. Does cultivating these behaviors online translate to being assholes in “reality”?” Does the effect of community “policing” that takes place during online interactions a sum positive or a negative? Is there such a thing as too many options for connection? Are we all better served by unplugging completely in favor of a much smaller real world?

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A Simple Tale

This past weekend I went to Las Vegas on a business trip. I took my boyfriend. And let me tell you: that city is NOT gay-friendly. It doesn't matter how much glitter and excess it boasts or how many theatrical performances occur on its stages. Bette Midler could female ejaculate on a paper mache dildo made of $1000 bills and it wouldn't make Vegas any more hospitable to homos. My boyfriend and I had guys cat-calling us at the pool while making out and dealt with whispers of "look, they're gay" while walking around in public. A cabdriver wouldn't even take us to the gay bars. He said they were too far away. Bullshit.

Even a couple days of this begins to affect you. Beside realizing how lucky you are as a Blue State resident, you begin to assume that everyone is judging you for being gay. Below the fold is a little anecdote about assuming the worst.

I had eaten too many oysters at a typically Vegas-ian Italian/Indian/Asian/seafood fusion restaurant. As a result, my boyfriend and I decided to walk the 2 miles to the gay bars to ease my gastrointestinal pain (the cabdriver incident happened the next day. That's how I knew they weren't too far.)

Roughly halfway between the strip and the bars, a large group of girls passed us. One was wearing a shirt that read "Dip me in honey and feed me to the lesbians." I was so excited to see other gays out on the street that yelled to her "I love your shirt!" She thanked me and her girlfriend shouted back to me, "It's my shirt. She's just borrowing it." It was a cute exchange and we parted smiling.

My boyfriend asked me what the shirt read and I repeated its slogan to him. At that moment, another girl walked by and heard me. She said to me, angrily, "Yes, we're lesbians" and stormed on down the street. I assume that she, too, was so used to be called out on her sexuality that the merest mention of the word "lesbian" in her earshot was taken as a homophobic pot shot. All I could do was shout to her "No, we're fags! What bars are you coming from?" It didn't get a response.

So now I'm thinking back to the people at the pool who whistled at us for kissing. Two of them were guys. There's a 90 percent chance that they were fratboy douchebags whose idea of tolerance is asking politely "So, which one of you is the catcher?"

However, that still leaves the possibility that they were two queer boys, also feeling alienated, expressing their solidarity in the only way they knew how. I wonder what would've happened if I had walked over to say hi instead of shaking my head and turning away. I could've made some new friends. I could've gotten punched in the jaw. I guess I'll never know.

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On Manscaping, Manhunt and More (or How to Be a Fag in Three Not-So-Easy Lessons) Part II

This post is the second in a three part series that was submitted by Al, who is a queer transman and fed up observer of local gay culture. Read the first part here.

After mastering cruising, but failing to follow-up, I turned to the one true test of faghood; arguably the most effective way of learning: immersion. Sure, I have been to the bars. I’m not too keen on that scene, in great part because I don’t drink. Unfortunately, at least for the purpose of dating, I’m not in recovery. Shockingly, I simply chose not to consume drugs or alcohol in favor of sugar and caffeine. Reliable sources tell me that all the cute, available guys can be found at gay AA and CMA (crystal meth anonymous). With bar sluts off the menu, where was I to turn? After considering faking addiction in order to hit fake rock bottom and enter the program, I turned to the supposedly safe haven for those too awkward or too lazy for in person encounters - the Internet. I chose to conduct my study on the ever classy manhunt.net. This is where I discovered that the rarest breed of fag may be the kind one.

I began my experiment with a simple profile that bluntly stated that I am trans. One learns quickly that if one only lists the word “trans” they will be interpreted as mtf every time as evidenced by e-mails saying things like “you’ll make a pretty lady.” The initial profile also made it clear that I was looking for someone with a few brain cells that aren’t fighting each other and that I wasn’t looking for anonymous hook-ups. I accompanied my profile with a nice, professionally-taken head shot of myself.

I didn’t receive many responses despite there being several hundred local guys logged on at any given time. When I did get e-mails a few trends emerged. Let’s call the first group “the curious Georges.” Subject lines from these guys include “I’m intrigued” and “I like trannies.” Their one-line emails repeatedly related to my anatomy below the belt. One of my favorites simply asked “how do the hydraulics work?” Sometimes I got all self-important and struck out on an educational mission hoping their interaction with me could teach them a thing or two. Poised atop my soapbox I would attempt to explain that it isn’t that simple. Even when I did manage to break down the truth about trans surgeries I was left at a loss for how to explain that no, I don’t want bottom surgery. I have had top surgery, but I find it interesting that none of these men ever asked about my chest. It is as if breasts are so grotesque to them that they have deleted their possible existence from their minds.

A couple of the Georges did remain interested after I disclosed that, by their standards at least, I don’t have a dick. Some became more persistent. Conventional wisdom would dictate that trannychasers are a good thing. Who doesn’t want to be wanted, right? As my desperation for a date grew, I considered and even hooked up with some of these guys -- but there is a fine line between admiration and objectification. I’m out, not stealth, but I still would like to be seen as attractive despite being trans, as opposed to only because of it.

Another interesting phenomenon is the high number of seemingly interested parties who chose to ignore the trans portion of the profile. They’d send a cheesy electronic wink or a quick message and a dialogue would begin (well, when they weren’t too creepy, too old or hideous in which cases I’d never respond). My M.O. developed as such: a few e-mails went back and forth until the guy mentioned meeting in person. At this point I would reiterate that I am ftm checking to see if that was still ok. I didn’t want there to be any surprises and would rather get some of the negotiating out of the way online. Over and over again guys would either write back to say they didn’t know or simply never write back. That’s when I truly realized that people really don’t read those profiles. All they care about is a pretty ass, I mean face. I still can’t tell which are worse, the guys who never respond or the ones who write back saying things like “trans, that’s cool, good for you” and then disappear or act as if manhunt is a merely platonic online tea party.

If the full-disclosure profile was the control, the real test was still to come. Hypothesis – not saying anything about being ftm would result in many more responses to the profile. My hypothesis was proven right away. All I did was drop the line about being trans and like magic a storm of messages came in. Initially I figured why bother to disclose if we weren’t going to meet? I would only reveal I was trans if an actual encounter was alluded to, but over time I decided to just get it over with fast. Tired of wasting energy, I began disclosing in the first response I sent. Sure, the same issues arose that I’d dealt with before, but it was better than getting unsolicited snarky comments or insipid questions. What this did bring on were the comments that I have also heard in person. For instance, someone would send me a wink; I’d follow by responding and telling them I’m trans/ftm, then they’d write back with something like this: “wow, and I thought you were so hot!!!”

With the past tense these guys imply not only that being trans is not ok with them, but that I should be flattered and validated that I not only passed well, but I passed as someone cute enough to catch their eye. What am I supposed to say to that? How about “oh thank you so much Papa Gepeto, I hope your seal of approval makes me a real boy!” Please, I already feel like Frankentranny. You know, a monstrous creation of weird science with scars stretching all the way across my chest that lumbers aimlessly down the street unintentionally scaring innocent, faggot villagers.

Had my entire foray into online cruising only happened to teach me that my aptitude test was wrong? Was it all to teach me that I’m not a fag, but rather a magician? After all, it seems I can make men disappear, even without being in their physical presence!

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Gay & Lesbian Aging

"Gays and lesbians have had to experience the stigma of homosexuality usually before they experience the stigma of being old. For those individuals who have positively dealt with the homosexual stigma, it appears to make the stigma of growing old less difficult."

Most gay men I know are terrified of getting old. I have my own concerns also, like anyone. Mainstream gay culture equates youth with worth, and is often openly hostile to the community elders who have fought for our rights and advanced our cause during a transition of great public hatred and a holocaust of disease.

The hostility and stigma against the older generation is rooted in our own fears. The stereotype of the bitter, lecherous, and unhappy old queen is often scarier than status co-morbities such as crows feet, hair loss, and sagging skin. We deny those who embody our fears, and in the process we enslave ourselves to emotional insecurity and delay the maturity and personal growth necessary to developing meaningful relationships and a healthy sense of self.

However, as scary as this inevitable transition may be, you might be surprised to find out some interesting facts about growing old as a gay or lesbian person. According to Lynda Wolf, a psychology professor at Webster University, "The image of the older gay man or lesbian as depressed, isolated, desperate, and sexless is prevalent," but "does not hold up empirically."

Webster says that studies show that gay people are forced to both develop greater self-acceptance and self-confidence because we must deal with the adversity of marginalization. This allows us to deal with aging more effectively than many heterosexuals. Many straight people never face the level of marginalization that we do until they age, and they struggle more as they age because they don't possess the coping skills that allows one to successfully deal with the stigma of aging.

Research also shows that "lesbians and gay men were more likely to have a network of close friends than heterosexuals," and that we "are not dependent on family for their emotional support and needs."

Webster also states we are:
"much less likely to experience an empty nest syndrome, as support already comes from outside the home. Second, the community affords older gays and lesbians the opportunity to meet new people and socialize. As the homosexual community is usually noted for it diversity, older individuals have the opportunity to socialize with a wide range of individuals, young and old. In addition, work relations usually do not make up the majority of personal contacts outside the home for the gay and lesbian. Thus, upon retirement, the network of friends that the gay or lesbian has made remains relatively unchanged. The establishment of friendship networks or communities appears to make the aging process easier for gays and lesbians."

While we still have concerns about healthcare and housing, we are seeing that these issues are being addressed currently, and will likely be less of an issue in the future.

Ultimately, the facts tell us that we are situated to age well. Our most difficult challenge is not to survive a pre-ordained stereotypical identity, its choosing to develop our character and intellect so that we age with dignity, style, grace, and self-love.

Source: Lynda Wolf

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The Gay Gym

Okay. You got me. I'll admit it. I go to the gay gym. And I love it.

I know what you're thinking: Why would a self-respecting alterna-queer gay hipster be caught dead in the gay gym? You might be wondering how I even feel comfortable in the locker room, or whether I skip it all together and just walk home in my sweaty gym clothes. Or perhaps you imagine me wearing really bulky sweatshirts to cover my scrawny body so I don't get to intimidated by all the muscle jocks.

Well, my friends, the short answer is: None of the above. I was always picked last in gym class. I was never naked in the high school locker room. And I couldn't hit a baseball to save my life. But somehow I feel perfectly comfortable at the gay gym.

I think I attribute this odd comfort to a variety of things. But the main reason is this.

Gyms are always very sexualized environments. There's the locker room and the showers. Then the hot guys lifting weights, stretching, bending, making fuck-faces in the mirrors... Really, what gay guy can resist? No wonder gays like going to gyms.

But unlike the at the "straight gyms" where any sexual interest must be hidden, where any flirtation must be covert, any glances must be furtive... Unlike the straight gyms, at the gay gym if you want to look a guy you think is hot, you just look at him. If you want to talk to someone and maybe ask him out on a date, you can walk right up to him and start flirting. And if you want to