or rather rites…of passage, that is.
I was doing laundry last night and wondering how to kill time while simultaneously reflecting back on my evening out with Little Buddy.
She had taken me out to a show for some quality us time, which was awesome fun – as usual – but also something I enjoyed being able to enjoy with her. Planning a party is always kinda stressful, so I know I wouldn’t have been able to really enjoy myself in her shoes at the surprise party she threw me.
I know, I’m projecting!
Anyway, this was just time for us to witness and enjoy!
Enjoy…his tribute show honoring Sir Elton John.
It was amazing…just the right type of retro-drag-schmaltz. I’m sure I will get to more depth than that at some point, but something else caught my attention while I lay on the couch, listening to the washer spin.
He took a break during his show to acknowledge special events people were out celebrating. Naturally, Little Buddy was ready. I thought about sinking under the table, but knowing my gut reaction to spotlights and microphones, LB had provided a picture to make me easier to track down.
It was fine. He took it easy on me. Plus, Little Buddy had thoughtfully avoided any pictures with the diabolical “50” in them.
I’m kinda still busy selling myself on those digits.
However – and this is what I was thinking about last night – he did bust the chops of a couple of younger folk.
There was another guy celebrating his birthday, he was marking his 28th. Tony suggested he could maybe help him out by being a Big Brother for his drummer. His drummer, of course having caught my eye several times over the course of the night.
It’s not that I minded this drummer boy, if you will, staring at me. Darkened dinner theater corner is some of my best lighting. Plus, one has to admire the craft of an overt flirt like this. He was using his de facto bandleader as an excuse to gawk openly at me, since I was right over his shoulder. Whenever he would look at his band mate for cues, there it was. I could feel him staring at me from behind his sunglasses.
Yeah…you keep telling yourself that, Xtopher.
Anyway, he was looking pretty cool in a patterned shirt under a white fur vest paired with white polka dot pants. It was a fun outfit.
I appreciated it even more when Tony gave him a little hell when introducing the band. I swear he said his drummer’s name was “Michael Homo”, but who knows for sure? Anyway, there he was being outed as a 25 year old college student while Tony quipped he got college credit for playing music for old people. I think that was supposed to be a cheeky bit of self deprication because this is also Tony’s 25th anniversary year, but I think most of the room felt that burn.
I just sat there and laughed.
But I was realizing how desperately young gays, like this Mike Homo fella, need a good intro into camp during their formative years. This drummer boy has the schmaltz with a gay tilt that is Tony Starlight. Lucky for him. And, further, it needs to be personal and intimate, this camp schooling. The modern crop of gays seem to get their camp exposure from RuPaul’s Drag Race. Fine, I guess if you enjoy that kind of thing. But all it seems to be creating is a bunch of gay parrots that speak in bitchy one-liners and memes.
I’d like a side of personality with mein camp, please.
I’m not saying that a sense of camp humor is the first thing a gay needs to learn, but it should be a part of the whole. I think it’s a part of being fully sub-culturally aware, regardless of whether it’s an active part of your personality.
It’s part of our collective history, and I think young gays today don’t understand that history. I love pride month as much as the next gay – total lie, I eschew pride most of the time, but at least I know what it’s about.
Hint: the party is not what it’s all about.
What frustrates me about pride month isn’t so much that I seem to have permanently misplaced my pride body, but rather that our month has been reduced to as many weekends of parades, costumes, excessive drinking and indiscriminate sex as one can cram into a month.
Today is February 3rd and in the first 72 hours of Black History Month, I have yet to see a randomly occurring parade, party or orgy. I think the gays are missing an opportunity. Sadly, I think this thing that should bring us together and strengthen us as a community is on a trajectory to become a divisive agent within our ranks.
and engage in a conversation about the cultural relevance of either.
Whoa. How did I end up here?
Suffice it to say, I had a point…originally.
Maybe I can salvage my train of thought. It was a rough day at work…
Gays today are being cultured by their own generation. I’ve had conversations with younger men that left me not only certain that they had very little – if any – idea of the struggle to earn the freedoms they enjoy.
That’s kind of on us as a culture.
Sure, it wouldn’t hurt to teach some gay history in schools…but how likely is that to happen?
And the hard part here is that a good chunk of a couple of generations was wiped out by AIDS, so there’s not a lot of us old geezers around to do the good work. Not to mention the priority we put on sexualizing our youth obsessed subculture versus taking the time to raise them before we rear them.
But on the other hand, that phenomenon goes both ways. There’s a fair number of Daddy Hunters out there sexualizing their elders. If that’s not a misconstrued cry for help…
Anyway, back to the gay rites of passage.
If I was allowed just one, it wouldn’t be coming out to oneself, or ones family. Nor would it be the first time in a gay bar or pride parade or sexual encounter.
I think my prescribed rite of passage would be to read Tales of the City. At least the first six books.
Actually, I think that would be a good thing for any person wanting a glimpse into the breadth of our culture and how our struggle impacted individuals. Sure, there’s a couple odd story lines in there. Otherwise, it has a lot of important exposure for people: gays, lesbians, trans, young, old…not to mention rich, poor, middle class, happy and not so happy childhoods and how they prepare individuals to become a part of the culture they identify with or the adult chosen families that they find themselves a part of.
What say you, mein reader…what would you prescribe as a rite of passage into this gay culture we are inhabiting?