Category Archives: Gay

A Gay Soccer Player

My friend Rob alerted me to the story of gay soccer player David Testo, who came out in November of last year, but hasn’t played since. In a candid and compelling interview, he tells some behind-the-scenes stories of what it’s like being gay as a professional soccer player, and, on a larger scale, what it’s like to be gay in the sports world.

One day we will reach a place where coming out won’t even be an issue. It likely won’t happen in my lifetime, and that will always make me a little sad, but it’s heartening to see us inch toward that. My admiration goes out to guys like David who take those first brave steps in a vocation where it has traditionally been – and to this day remains – something kept silent and secret.

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Now THIS I Have To See

A Filipino film that tells the story of a bitter, aging gay man. HELLO.

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A Good Guy With A Great Cause

My generation grew up without the Internet. We learned how to find information through a card catalog in a library – both seemingly foreign to most kids today. While I may sometimes lament the way the Internet has reduced simple social interaction, it is invaluable as far as giving otherwise-isolated kids a way to connect and feel less alone.

Back in the 90’s, I found my escape through magazines and books, and the limited entertainment that offered a peek at the possibility of a gay life. Whispers of being gay were shrouded with the most horrendous connotations, and there was no greater insult than calling someone a ‘faggot’. If only there was a way to see that being gay wasn’t a bad thing, that there was no need for all the shame. That would have made all the difference.

One of my lifesaving discoveries was xy magazine. Say what you may about its porny-leaning tendencies showcasing young guys, it was the only thing I had. It wasn’t so much the stories or the photo lay-outs that resonated, it was the letters from other young men like myself, those who were searching for something that made sense, something that unlocked all the other issues that arose from being gay.

Today, there is easier access to information and to others who are going through the same thing, and for all those young gay men and women feeling sad and alone, it’s a great thing. My pal Dan recently alerted me to a new site aimed to offer a centralized source of information and help for gay kids everywhere  EqualizeYouth.org ~ (http://equalizeyouth.org). Started by Derek Gerson (who himself was inspired by the ‘It Gets Better’ video project), it will contain stories, blog posts, memes, videos and more of other gay youth and supportive allies. Right now it’s still in the infant stages, and looking for those willing to lend a helping hand in getting it off the ground. Check out its fundraising efforts at indiegogo.com/equalizeyouth, and then get involved directly with the site. The only way that this endeavor will succeed is if we help to spread the word. That’s what I’m doing here, in some small way. Now it’s your turn. On behalf of Dan and Derek, I thank you.

For further information, you are welcome to contact Derek directly at Derek@equalizeyouth.org.

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An Apology to Anderson Cooper

Dear Anderson Cooper –

A year ago tomorrow, I posted this rather mean letter to you, imploring you to come out as a gay man, and condemning you for not having done so earlier. My reasons for doing so, and the points I made then, are still relevant and valid, but calling you out by name was not the best way to do it. For that I must apologize, and it’s going to be a little awkward and uncomfortable, but you deserve  it. (When you’re right for insufferably 99% of the time, an apology is not something that comes easily.)

Looking back at that letter, I see now that I was wrong in singling you out. When so much is made of bullying, how could I act as such a bully myself?  Forcing you to come out was its own act of bullying. I realize now that it’s never right to force someone to come to terms with something as serious and important as their sexuality before they’re ready. Everyone – gay or straight – has the right to live their life as openly or as privately as they wish to do so, and the choice to be open or closeted is entirely up to them. The rite of passage that comprises coming out is different for each of us, and especially different for those in the public eye. Every person does it in their own way, and everyone should have the option of doing it in the safest and most comfortable manner for them.

In the year since I wrote that letter, you came out rather gracefully and powerfully – not in a hyped-up manner, but as a matter-of-fact, a simple statement of truth. In doing so, you helped remove the inferred aspect that something was wrong with being gay. There is no way of knowing how much that may have helped someone, but I am sure it has.

 

And so Anderson, I am sorry. You had to do it in your own time, in the same way that each of us has to do it. It wasn’t fair of me to call you out, it wasn’t right for anyone to do that. The shame is that there are people who still think there is something wrong with being gay. I have to believe in the idea that if we were all to be out and openly gay, some of that stigma would go away.

As I watched the opening of the second season of your talk show, you already seemed happier, more at-ease, more free. Maybe that’s just projection, maybe that’s just what I want to believe, and though I don’t know you personally, I do feel that it has made a difference – if not in your own life, then in some of ours. Thank you for being so brave. Thank you for showing us who you really are. And thank you for doing it in your own way, on your own terms, and reminding me that some things are still sacred, and some people still noble.

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That Lusty Cockmonster Letter

At times like this, it pays to pay attention to football. Apparently football player Brendon Ayanbadejo, the Baltimore Ravens linebacker (don’t ask, I can’t tell what that is) recently vocalized his support for gay marriage. In response, Maryland state delegate Emmett  C. Burns Jr. wrote to the owner of the Ravens and asked that he ‘inhibit such expressions from your employee’. In true sportsman-like fashion, Chris Kluwe of the Minnesota Vikings penned this magnificent retort, in language so pure and succinct I can only hope to one day achieve something as powerful:

Dear Emmett C. Burns Jr.,

I find it inconceivable that you are an elected official of Maryland’s state government. Your vitriolic hatred and bigotry make me ashamed and disgusted to think that you are in any way responsible for shaping policy at any level. The views you espouse neglect to consider several fundamental key points, which I will outline in great detail (you may want to hire an intern to help you with the longer words):

1. As I suspect you have not read the Constitution, I would like to remind you that the very first, the VERY FIRST Amendment in this founding document deals with the freedom of speech, particularly the abridgment of said freedom. By using your position as an elected official (when referring to your constituents so as to implicitly threaten the Ravens organization) to state that the Ravens should “inhibit such expressions from your employees,” more specifically Brendon Ayanbadejo, not only are you clearly violating the First Amendment, you also come across as a narcissistic fromunda stain. What on earth would possess you to be so mind-boggingly stupid? It baffles me that a man such as yourself, a man who relies on that same First Amendment to pursue your own religious studies without fear of persecution from the state, could somehow justify stifling another person’s right to speech. To call that hypocritical would be to do a disservice to the word. Mindfucking obscenely hypocritical starts to approach it a little bit.

2. “Many of your fans are opposed to such a view and feel it has no place in a sport that is strictly for pride, entertainment, and excitement.” Holy fucking shitballs. Did you seriously just say that, as someone who’s “deeply involved in government task forces on the legacy of slavery in Maryland”? Have you not heard of Kenny Washington? Jackie Robinson? As recently as 1962 the NFL still had segregation, which was only done away with by brave athletes and coaches daring to speak their mind and do the right thing, and you’re going to say that political views have “no place in a sport”? I can’t even begin to fathom the cognitive dissonance that must be coursing through your rapidly addled mind right now; the mental gymnastics your brain has to tortuously contort itself through to make such a preposterous statement are surely worthy of an Olympic gold medal (the Russian judge gives you a 10 for “beautiful oppressionism”).

3. This is more a personal quibble of mine, but why do you hate freedom? Why do you hate the fact that other people want a chance to live their lives and be happy, even though they may believe in something different than you, or act different than you? How does gay marriage, in any way shape or form, affect your life? If gay marriage becomes legal, are you worried that all of a sudden you’ll start thinking about penis? “Oh shit. Gay marriage just passed. Gotta get me some of that hot dong action!” Will all of your friends suddenly turn gay and refuse to come to your Sunday Ticket grill-outs? (Unlikely, since gay people enjoy watching football too.)

I can assure you that gay people getting married will have zero effect on your life. They won’t come into your house and steal your children. They won’t magically turn you into a lustful cockmonster. They won’t even overthrow the government in an orgy of hedonistic debauchery because all of a sudden they have the same legal rights as the other 90 percent of our population—rights like Social Security benefits, child care tax credits, Family and Medical Leave to take care of loved ones, and COBRA healthcare for spouses and children. You know what having these rights will make gays? Full-fledged American citizens just like everyone else, with the freedom to pursue happiness and all that entails. Do the civil-rights struggles of the past 200 years mean absolutely nothing to you?

In closing, I would like to say that I hope this letter, in some small way, causes you to reflect upon the magnitude of the colossal foot in mouth clusterfuck you so brazenly unleashed on a man whose only crime was speaking out for something he believed in. Best of luck in the next election; I’m fairly certain you might need it.

Sincerely,
Chris Kluwe

P.S. I’ve also been vocal as hell about the issue of gay marriage so you can take your “I know of no other NFL player who has done what Mr. Ayanbadejo is doing” and shove it in your close-minded, totally lacking in empathy piehole and choke on it. Asshole.

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[Editor’s Note: Thank you Brendon Ayanbadejo and Chris Kluwe, for being such brave straight allies, and such decent human beings. The world will get better because of people like you.]
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Proud to be an American

This will hopefully remain a blog relatively free of politics, because there’s enough of that out there, and I’ve always wanted this space to be a respite for such polarizing issues. Yet as a gay man in this country at this time, I cannot be completely silent, especially when I see the differences between the Democratic and Republican platforms. It should be no secret whose side I’m on, but I think Michelle Obama puts it far more eloquently than I ever could. At the 7:00 mark, I started to get chills.

“If proud Americans can be who they are and boldly stand at the altar with who they love, then surely, surely, we can give everyone in this country a fair chance at that great American dream… because in the end, in the end, more than anything else, that is the story of this country – the story of unwavering hope grounded in unyielding struggle.”

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The Gay Divers

Way back in 1995, I was just beginning to come out as a gay man. I wasn’t even old enough to drink, and in that tenderness of youth I had no idea what I was doing. I devoured any remotely gay book I could find, starting with the Greg Louganis autobiography, ‘Breaking the Surface’.

He had just come out as an HIV positive gay man, and his story was a riveting one. I might not have been able to relate much to the discipline of becoming an Olympic Gold Medalist, but I could totally understand the coming out portion, especially at that particular moment in my life.

To read about someone as respected and accomplished as Mr. Louganis, and to know that he had gone through something similar, was incredibly moving and powerful. Whenever anyone questions the relevance and reasons of public figures coming out, I think back to that time, and how reading about other gay men absolutely galvanized me.

Now I see that Matthew Mitcham has an autobiography coming out at the end of the year, entitled appropriately enough ‘Twists & Turns’. As another gay Olympic Gold Medalist, he’s an inspiration for those just coming out today. I may be at a different point in my life, but I can’t wait to read it.

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Wait, Mika Is Gay?

I will not believe it.

Seriously, I think it’s great. I have nothing against gay people. Besides, I’ve been a fan of Mika’s music more than I ever cared about who he slept with. He’s an amazing musician, and his second album was just as powerful and exciting as his first. I’m not sure how his next one (The Origin of Love) is going to add up, based on the lead single (which failed to wow me as instantly as his previous lead-offs did). But the proof will be in the entire body of songs, and I’m always open to listening.

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The Magic of Matthew Mitcham

Okay, I’m a bit biased, as he’s the first (and only) Olympian who was nice enough to follow me on Twitter, but Matthew Mitcham is my new favorite diver. (What’s the matter Tom Daley? Are you scared of me or something?) Even if Mr. Mitcham didn’t extend that courtesy, I’d have been enamored of him for being one of the only Olympians to live proudly and openly as a gay man.

It seems like such a small thing, and such an insignificant thing when you’re in the running to be the single best diver in the world, but to some of us it makes a world of difference. To some, this is everything – the peek into a future of possibility and hope – the seed of an idea that this might one day be you. If you’ve had to grow up without that, you have no idea what kind of power that holds.

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The Gay Olympian: Matthew Mitcham

This is Matthew Mitcham, an openly-gay Olympic diver from Australia (talk about a triple crown).
He’s probably the most prominent and well-known of the gay men at the games (at least, he’s the only one I’ve heard about, and these things usually manage to trickle down even to the must oblivious of us).
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Pride Overload

I am writing this a few minutes after returning to Albany. It is 9:44 AM and Kiera and I just did Boston Pride yesterday, so the thought of another Pride Parade and Festival, for Albany no less, is not quite as thrilling as it once was. However, I know once it begins and I start seeing those smiling faces, all doubts and dreariness will be a thing of the past.

That’s sort of how my ambivalent relationship with Gay Pride works. The bitchy side of me believes (and not wholly unrightly) that Pride is something I have every day. Living openly as a gay man in upstate New York is its own statement – one that, fortunately, means less and less as more and more people accept equality. Being that I surround myself with friends and family who don’t see me as just a gay man, I tend to forget how important these days are for those who are just coming out, and for those who don’t have acceptance in their lives. It always strikes me when I’m standing there watching the beginning of the Boston Pride Parade.

It kicks off with the motorcycling ladies, who sit on their hogs beaming with joy, rainbow boas intertwined among the chrome handles, exhaust streaming from their pipes – and when they rev their engines and beep their horns the crowd cheers, and always, without fail, tears come to my eyes. Not enough to fall, nothing to wipe away, and I fight them back for fear of looking foolish, but that is my moment of Pride. Construction workers pause in their drilling, hotel staff filters out to the curb, waiters and cooks line the street, and in that beginning there is all the hope in the world. It seems such a silly thing, a trifling bit in a chaotic universe of more pressing and real concerns, but for some of us, it means everything.
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A Very Gay Parade

This weekend, in what may be a completely foolish move, I’ve committed to attending both the Boston Pride Parade (Saturday) and the Albany Pride Parade (Sunday). Last year I only made it to Boston, and recuperated on Sunday (not really necessary, but a nice buffer). This year I’ve agreed to judge the Albany Pride Parade floats (I assume) so I have to be there. No guarantee on my status or outfit (I haven’t had time to do up two pride costumes, so the Albany one is decidedly simpler. In fact, it’s probably the simplest thing I’ve ever worn in public – and those are usually the ones that make the biggest splash – think Madonna at Cannes circa 1991.)

The parade always reminds me of a story I’ve told here before. While working at the Rotterdam Structure over summer break, I encountered a co-worker who had only met one other gay person in all his life. He was well-built, wore tight t-shirts and gold chains, and had the Italian guido look down pat (and I mean that in the best possible way.) On our first shift together we were folding shirts when he asked me if I liked parades. It was out of the blue, not related to anything else going on, and I wasn’t sure I heard him correctly.

“Umm, not particularly,” I answered. “Why did you ask me that?”

He proceeded to explain that his Uncle, who was gay, always liked parades, and he wondered if all gay guys did. His genuine and earnest, if slightly stereotypical, question touched me. He was not saying it any derogatory or mean way, he was genuinely curious and wanted to expand his understanding. I will never ridicule anyone for inquisitiveness.

I do still have a chuckle at the whole exchange, but that’s the sort of thing that brings people together, bridging our differences and forming a bond beneath the common joy of laughter. In the same way that I lumped him into what I viewed as a classic Italian Stallion stereotype and had to reconsider my views when he turned into a sensitive person, so too did he manage to reconfigure his take based on his limited experience with gay people.

We were young and foolish then, but we had hearts and open minds. Has the world changed so much, or have I?
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The Gay Religious Experience

This is one of the very first songs I danced to at a gay club in Boston. It was at Chaps, which was still on Huntington, right across from the Copley Marriott. A few retail co-workers (shout-out to the Fanueil Hall Structure crew) were going, and having recently turned 21 I decided to join them. (Aside from a one-time-only chalked-license night at the Branch one previous summer, I was never one for under-age drinking.) Once I turned legal, I didn’t go crazy, so I had been of age for a couple of months before really utilizing it.

My poison then was the White Russian. Yeah, I was once that kid, but at least it was better than the amaretto sours I started on. (We won’t mention Boones here.) After my third, I was relaxed enough to join my friends on the dance-floor. I had been to one or two gay dance clubs before, but had watched the dancing from a distance.

Thanks to countless choreographed danced numbers practiced in the carpeted world of my childhood bedroom, I could cut a rug as well as the next gay guy, so the dancing never intimidated me. And even the tiers of men watching from the elevated section above didn’t phase me. There was a certain freedom from worry in a gay club that straight people will never understand. Even if they spend a few nights in a gay bar, they can never know what it’s like to have spent a lifetime in a straight world, only to have that oppressive tension (even if nothing ever happened) lifted. Maybe that’s why gay clubs are so much more exciting than straight ones – everyone is just relieved and happy to be there, and we’re going to have the time of our lives no matter what.

I don’t remember all the songs we danced to – just this one – as this was the climax of the night, the song playing when everyone was collectively moving en masse, when for a few brief moments the whole becomes greater than the sum of its parts. It’s the time when even the shy guys will take their shirts off and swing them in the air with gleeful abandon (most, not me). As we moved in unison, dancing and jumping and clapping to the music, I thought surely there was salvation here, surely this was heaven, surely this was the closest I’d come to a religious experience.

I remember that night to this day, so important was it to my initiation into the gay world. While I would never be a regular club kid, I would always enjoy the occasional night out, and when Chaps moved over to the theatre district, it was never quite the same (nor was it as easy a drunken walk home). That moment, and its place in my life, had passed. But we had that time together – all the men and women in that darkened room, with a throbbing strobe light, the pounding beats, and that feeling of shared elation.

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Bravo, Andy Cohen

A number of years ago, when Bravo was first making its mark in the pop culture world, and I was sending out promotional missives to any and all interested (and mostly uninterested) parties inviting them to check out this website, I sent one to an executive profiled in Out or The Advocate (that was the way I networked) and Mr. Andy Cohen was kind enough to write back.

It wasn’t a lengthy diatribe, but it was enough encouragement from a man whom I would come to admire and respect, and whose conversational genius was about to explode on ‘Watch What Happens Live’. For me, it was a simple nod of acknowledgement, something that has often been missing from my insular world.

Since that time I’ve loosely followed Mr. Cohen’s upward trajectory as he landed fun gigs (Hello Miss America) and his reality shows stampeded onto the pop culture landscape. He even got me hooked (to my eternal guilty-pleasure shame) on a few of those Real Housewives (NY, NJ, & Beverly Hills only, thank you). What made him even more remarkable was the fact that he did all of this as an open, if unassuming, gay man. When he announced he was writing a memoir part of me jumped for joy, and part of me cringed.

We all knew he could talk, but too many good talkers mistake themselves for good writers. Luckily, Cohen’s voice translates well to the printed word, and his conversational strengths result in a breezy tome. In fact, Most Talkative may be the perfect summer book for anyone looking for an effervescent, easy-going romp. That’s not to say it doesn’t have depth.

Cohen has always been a rather under-the-radar gay person, not loudly proclaiming it, but proudly owning it. It’s the way of the new gay – aware, self-confident, and matter-of-fact about the non-issue of sexuality today. Reading about the ways he came to this self-realized evolution is the most powerful aspect of his book, even as his humor and self-deprecation sprinkle the proceedings with laugh-out-loud hilarity. (The camp letters to and from his mother are insanely hysterical.)

He doesn’t dwell on his more-or-less happy childhood (admitting that it is the part he likes least about most memoirs), and it is a refreshing attribute that the book does not get bogged down in a pathos-filled past. While his struggles over coming to terms with his sexuality and the coming out process lend en unexpectedly emotional depth to the early proceedings, they are balanced with Cohen’s self-deprecating wit and willingness to make himself the butt of most of the jokes.

A must-read for any gay boy (and said boy’s parents), it is often hilarious, occasionally poignant, and wittily cutting, mostly at the expense of the ‘Jewfroed’ author.

It’s also a good book for anyone just starting out on their career – especially for those doubting their passions and wondering if they’re on the right path – not by giving the blueprint to the way of success, but rather by inspiring anyone to do what they really love doing, and to do it well.

Like the subject himself, Most Talkative is compulsively engaging, riotously gregarious, and wildly entertaining, even when it’s at its most earnest. At the end of it, you’ll feel like you just had the best late-night conversation with a life-long friend, and you’ll want to do it all over again the next day.
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Thank You Mr. President

There is something incredibly affirming and powerful about hearing your President speak directly in support of you as a full-fledged citizen for the first time. It’s something straight people have had always, and that they have sometimes taken for granted, but when you’ve never had a President in office say that – on your behalf – it means more than I thought it would.

In the wake of the news in North Carolina, to hear our President proclaim unequivocally – at last, and once and for all – that he supports gay marriage, is a galvanizing and monumental moment. It is an act of forward-thinking progress, political courage, and history-making fortitude.

It may be damaging politically, and it may tilt a tight election the wrong way, but it was the right thing to do, and as such President Obama will rightfully, and proudly, be written into the history books, whether the prejudiced people like it or not, as a champion of all citizens, regardless of race, religion, natural origin, gender, or sexual orientation.

This is history. This is real. This is now. And this is major.

Pay attention – because what just happened in North Carolina will be seen as an act as backwards as sending Rosa Parks to the back of the bus, as mindless as denying women the right to vote, and as shameful as beating Matthew Shepard to death. To argue with this is to argue against love, and I defy anyone to take such a stance and stand behind it with any semblance of reason.

It’s time to pay this President the same respect that you would pay any President in office. There is no excuse for ever having done otherwise. President Obama, I stand behind you, and I thank you for representing the finest values of freedom for which this country has always stood.

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