鈥楩ound myself in crowded rooms feeling so alone.鈥�
This poignant Madonna lyric occasionally sums up how I feel. As I think I鈥檝e said, I鈥檓 no victim. But being away from Sydney, I am starting to pine for that sense of community and being among like-minded people. Lately, I鈥檝e been feeling like the only gay in the village.
鈥榊eah, yeah, fancy pants,鈥� the cabbie barked. 鈥榃e don鈥檛 do that,鈥� snapped the surly shop assistance. 鈥楬e鈥檚 such a queen,鈥� some redneck skank mumbled to her BFF with the muffin-top.
Really? What鈥檚 a queen? Do tell? Does he mince around in Calvins鈥� listening to Kylie on his iPod? Or is he too busy sucking-off men in public toilets? Maybe he鈥檚 getting trashed in a nightclub? Just look for the sissy under the disco balls. Or maybe they鈥檙e lurking around shopping centres waiting to molest little boys. Because, of course, all gay men are paedophiles.
These tired stereotypes have got to go.
Not only are they lame generalisations, they鈥檙e completely inaccurate misapprehensions to harbour. You might want to check your facts, for example, before suggesting someone鈥檚 a child abusing sicko or drug-addled rent boy.
World AIDS Day is today and Transgender Remembrance Day passed recently. Most people wouldn鈥檛 know. Unless they caught it on telly. 鈥楧amned, banner-waving activists and their marriage rights!鈥� Even though statistics show otherwise; HIV is a gay disease, right? And well, those trannie freaks, that鈥檚 too much to even think about. They鈥檙e all junkie prostitutes anyway.
Yes, most beige people are too busy nagging about things they don鈥檛 understand, or too consumed with Oprah鈥檚 impending visit and the Royal Wedding to be bothered with our human rights. Actually no, I鈥檓 not a hypersensitive whinger; I鈥檓 just realistic. And I鈥檓 tired of indulging the bullshit.
I miss Sydney. I miss being among others who get me. Mum鈥檚 cool, but we have our moments. Bloody old woman is set in her ways. Sydney peeps might bitch behind my back about the extra five kilos, but that鈥檚 what Duromine is for. Indeed,
I have this overwhelming urge to surround myself in an orgy of leather, glitter and feathers. Drag queens, dykes, bears, and rainbow flags.
Bring it, Mardi Gras! It鈥檚 supposed to be our gay Christmas, after all. It鈥檚 almost impossible to feel alone 鈥搃n this drowned world – during the Mardi Gras festival. And they even have shiny disco balls.
I heart this, your columns always inspire me.
We still have a sense of community Michael. Community doesn’t always equate to ‘the scene’ or dance parties…. does it??
The Sydney scene died a sad death years ago. I do not think you need pine for it at all. As for dance parties….. also dead and long gone….. all gay things must come to an end