Being gay is a strange and ever-changing thing. Sometimes I feel as if I was dropped into a culture that I never wanted to be a part of and now must constantly keep up appearance just to save face. As if gay sex and dating isn’t hard enough we have to deal with coming out, homophobia, elitism in the community, racism, stereotyping, and fat-shaming. It’s one thing if being gay was just about liking dick or thinking that facial hair was hot, but it isn’t. It’s so much more. One of the hardest things I had to deal with upon coming out was losing my sense of community.
First, it was my family. Although to this day I remain in contact with my family it will never be as it was when I was younger and straighter. When I came out it took years for my parents to come to terms with my news. Once I had gotten into a huge fight with my mother over the situation that after I told her that I loved her, she hung up on me. To this day that remains one of the most emotional moments in my life, that my own mother couldn’t tell me she loved me. So, I had to learn to live without them. When I got engaged and married my husband it seemed as if this was a relief for my parents. I was now somebody else’s problem. I know this isn’t the case and they’d deny it, but I don’t ask them for help and I hardly ever have. Part of this is because our lives are so separate now. It’s even weirder to think that I am now supposed to make my own family as if I haven’t already lost a great one. Even on social media I will see my grandma, my aunts, or my siblings post statuses about their lives and I feel so far away. It’s almost as if they see me as a different person now. I guess I am. The second community I lost was inside my church. I was excommunicated and left the LDS church at 19 because I was openly gay. Religion was so important to me growing up that learning to live without it has been almost impossible. It feels as if I lost my place in the universe. I lost friends and mentors too. It seemed as if this one decision had put me on a path that competed with everyone who was already in my life. The new people weren’t always so great either. The gay community is much more of a high school faction than an actual community. We have the jocks, the cheerleaders, the plastics, the drama queens, and the twinks. If you’re buff then you’re a “jock” and if you’re lean then you’re a “twink”. If you aren’t fit then you’re an “otter” but if you’re not lanky enough you become an “average” joe. Suddenly if your pecs aren’t as defined you turn into a “daddy” and if you get too hairy you become a “bear.” It’s almost as if being gay is like a videogame and coming out is like the “start screen” which then leads to picking your avatar and going on a bunch of quests. Apparently, I’m a bear, and that’s what the nice people call me, because I’m overweight but I’m technically not hairy enough to be called this, nor do I like these labels. Figuring out where I belong has been torturous at times. I’m too effeminate to be with the guys. I’m too open-minded to be with the liberals. Even people who are exactly like me can’t relate because they are too busy finding their own place in this world. For now, I just sit at home and watch Netflix while I try to make this marriage life work. It’s easy for the most part, but sometimes I wonder if it’s just a purgatory with no advancements. I can’t have kids and move my future along. I can’t go back. I’m just stuck here longing for everyone else’s communities.
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Erick L. Graham Wood
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