A gay cowboy is considered by some to be the ultimate oxymoron.
In certain circles I’m considered an oxymoron too, without the oxy.
That’s never bothered me: contradiction is a sign of genius.
In these parts, a gay cowboy is really just a cowboy. Cowboys have historically never much taken to identifying themselves as gay or straight or anything other than a cowboy. It’s a modern-day defiance of labels that runs back to a time long before being gay was commonly named. Here, we celebrate gayness and queerdom and all the diversity of the world, especially when it comes to cowboy living – because at his heart, a cowboy is all about living to let live.
To that end, this celebratory post features a favorite song by The Cowgays (see also Chris Housman in his Dazzler of the Day crowning here). It’s a hand-clapping exercise in self-acceptance and self-love for all us gay kids who grow up wondering if we were worthy of it.
Wish I wasn’t gay, wish I wasn’t gay
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Clap your hands for Jesus, hallelujah, praise the Lord
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Used to lay in bed at night and cry myself? o sleep
Tossing and a-turning, wondering why
Thought that damned old devil had a hold on me
‘Til the day I finally saw the light
When I think back to how absolutely lost I felt as a gay kid, with no internet, no gay visibility, and no idea that everything I was feeling wasn’t wrong or twisted or sinful, I marvel at how relatively well-adjusted I turned out in spite of that (while simultaneously marveling at how genuinely fucked-up I was in terms of how ill-equipped and unloved I felt when I dared to step into my queerness). Things cut every which way back then, and there are still repercussions to having grown up like that.
Wish I wasn’t gay, wish I wasn’t gay
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Clap your hands for Jesus, I done shut that closet door
And I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Without guides or support or the basic recognizance of seeing myself in just about anyone else, I made my way mostly alone, and at the worst time of one’s life to be alone. Those formative years, while difficult tin many ways, served to fortify and build a strength in me that most of my friends didn’t need to have at such an age, and that some lucky people don’t really need at any age. I’m grateful for having built myself up then, and glad, in retrospect, to have done it all by myself, because it taught me I could survive just about anything, even when left entirely to my own devices. That’s a striking sense of independence that I wouldn’t trade for any years of youthful ease; it prepared me better than most to deal with an awful and often unfair and unjust world. Gay people of a certain age are simply built stronger, because we had to be. It was that or die, sometimes quite literally, and I had my fair share of close calls. It’s hard to feel like you belong somewhere when you never felt you belonged anywhere, and if you don’t feel like you belong at at early age you do wonder at what value you have on this earth.
Preacher used to tell me I was headed straight to Hell
For something that I tried but couldn’t change
Had to walk through fire ’til I found myself
Holy revelation, I’ve been saved
Wish I wasn’t gay, wish I wasn’t gay
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Clap your hands for Jesus, hallelujah, I’m reborn
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Strangely enough, and it came from somewhere deep within me, some vain sliver of a belief in myself, I never once wished I wasn’t gay. It would have been easier in those days, it would have made things fit comfortably into place, it would have solved any number of issues that came from being closeted and repressed and forced into a life that wasn’t natural for me – but for some reason I never crossed into that particular realm of self-hatred. Oh I hated myself for many reasons, but my queerness wasn’t ever really one of them. (There was so much more to hate than the fact that I found men attractive!) Still, I understood soon and well enough that being gay would indeed be more than ample reason for others to hate me, so I wouldn’t admit it until the age of 18.
Thought that I was lost with no end in sight
‘Til I found my chosen family tree
Any friend of Dorothy’s is a friend of mine
So cheers to the queers like you and me
Once I did, however, there was no going back, and forging a way for my gay self at a time when not everyone did was forging an existence brazenly fired in the heat of defiance and courage. In some ways, it made everything that followed a bit of a cake walk – something I need to remind myself when I recoil from simpler challenges. It made me into the man you see before you – and in a lot of ways it made me the cowboy I’ve only recently discovered in myself.
Wish I wasn’t gay, wish I wasn’t gay
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more
Clap your hands for Jesus, hallelujah, praise the Lord
I don’t wish I wasn’t gay no more!
