The G Word

Today’s blog post has taken a selfish route; well it was always selfish. The crazy idea of my blog possibly helping gay people makes me feel better; that I’m at least trying to be a good person (more on that some other day probably). I’ve always been sensitive to the world around me and for some reason this week I’m feeling particularly disheartened. Maybe it’s because Trump is here, maybe Years and Years on BBC One has scared me, maybe it’s because racist rhetoric is now the norm, maybe it’s because three million Muslims are still being detained in concentration camps in China and no one seems to care, maybe it’s because global warming will kill us, maybe it’s because Love Island is still a thing or maybe it’s because another two people walked into me today because they were looking down on their phones as always. I’m so close to shouting, “FUCKING LOOK UP!” to someone. I just say it in my head instead as my blood pressure rises. As society makes me feel more invisible each day I’m worried that soon I’ll have a Grace Hanson meltdown circa season one: “DO YOU NOT SEE ME?!” (If you’re not watching Grace and Frankie you’re missing out on life).

On top of feeling disheartened, or perhaps as a side effect of it, I feel an overwhelming sense of helplessness. It feels like everything is going to shit and I can’t do anything about it. I’m no Alexandria Ocasio-Cortez, I don’t feel as though I can make a real tangible difference like her. The only thing I can think of doing to make some sort of order out of the mess is writing my feelings down. But if I did that each time I felt disheartened by the world this blog would take on an entirely new agenda and as Kourtney famously said as her sister cried over a lost earring, “Kim there are people dying.” So I’ll stop whining and using this very public outlet for what should very much be saved for private therapy and instead focus on that gay agenda every is always talking about.

So here’s part two in my adventures of being a big ol’ gay:

The G word. I used to be terrified of it: being called gay. It was my biggest fear. If someone called me gay on the school bus or in the playground at lunch it would ruin my entire day. Nothing worse could possibly happen. In Year 8 I even kept a log book of how many times I was called gay in a day; though I stopped after just one week when the pages were starting to fill up. And though it happened so often it never became less scary; in fact as the years went on it became worse. Sex and sexuality began to matter in the latter years of school and I was still being called gay every day in years 10 and 11. It felt like the water was rising, time was running out for something to change; and I was too afraid to admit what that meant.

I simply cannot give justice to how freeing it feels to reclaim a word that used to signify the worst possible thing in the world for me. But that change didn’t happen overnight; in fact, that change isn’t permanent even now.

Like most feelings and thoughts in life my comfort with the G word ebbs and flows. In the months after coming out I still flinched whenever I heard the word. My reaction to it had become so ingrained in my body that I couldn’t control the sickness in my stomach when I heard it. And though I mostly feel liberated from it now there are still times, almost 2 years later, that I find it difficult to describe myself as a gay man; to say that word.

To try and make sense of my ever changing feelings (and to make myself feel better when I slip back down on my journey to self esteem) I tell myself that there’s a difference between being unbothered by being called gay and identifying as a gay person. I no longer care if my music tastes are gay, if my posture is gay, if my voice is gay. Cos guess what bitch: I am gay! That don’t bother me no mo’. It’s the truth. You’re right. And?

But to call myself a gay man. For some reason that’s harder and I don’t know why. Maybe it’s because there are different levels of ‘gayness’ and there’s still a struggle to not be ‘too gay’. Not to make too much noise. I don’t know. I hope that as time goes by I’ll feel more comfortable. I won’t cringe when I hear something homophobic being said, urging myself to say something, staying silent. I won’t feel uncomfortable identifying as gay in a room full of straight men for fear of...god knows what. I know that will come with time. Unfortunately patience has never been my strong suit.

When I cast my mind back to high school I still wince at the memories. How I’d love to tell myself that it will get better after school when no one cares whether you’re gay or not. That it’s not always going to feel so high stakes. That being called the G word isn’t always going to feel like the end of the world.

It gets better, it got better, it keeps getting better. But that’s a lesson we all have to learn ourselves.

Brian Firkus grew up in remote Milwaukee with an abusive step dad who would call him ‘Trixie’ when he acted gay or feminine. The word ‘Trixie’ was loaded with such pain, humiliation and shame for Brian that it would make sense for him to want to avoid hearing that name for rest of his life. Instead, he took the name Trixie, gave himself the surname Mattel and became one of the most successful and wealthy drag queens of all time (I couldn’t not mention a drag queen, sorry ‘bout it).

I guess when I’m feeling disheartened by the state of the world, I can think of the Trixie Mattels who had the courage to change the meaning of their G word and create something great out of it.

The point is (and this is the real shit) at a certain time in your life, you’re the one who allows the power of a word to continue its hold on you. You didn’t start the trend but you’re sure as hell carrying it on. You’re the one allowing the shame and pain of the word to follow you through your adult life. It becomes up to you to create something powerful and positive out of something crushing and shameful. It’s. Up. To. You.

I still feel uncomfortable identifying as gay sometimes. But my world doesn’t end when someone calls me the G word. Sometimes I have to fight that conditioned response, that subconscious flinch, and tell myself ‘Um Josh, they’re right, you’re gay as hell’. I have to remind myself that being gay isn’t a hellish nightmare anymore, it’s not the worst possible thing that could happen, it’s my reality, and it’s beautiful, and I wouldn’t change it for the world.