When my partner David took me to my very first gay bar (15+ years ago), I knew exactly what to expect: a relatively small, dark, and smoky dance floor thumping with deafening techno music, a
rhythmic array of multi-colored strobes and laser beams piercing through manufactured fog and bouncing off the countless mirrored surfaces of a giant disco ball, a writhing mass of hunky men with thick mustaches dirty dancing in barely crotch-length leather shorts and shimmering gold short-sleeve tops with deep
v's showing off their hairy chests, flamboyant drag queens stumbling around in stilettos - sloshing pink martinis all over each other as they jostle for position to ogle the hot bods on the dance floor, spiky-haired biker chicks staking out their territory at the bar - arm wrestling over a pack of Lucky Strikes - staring you down as the one and only obstacle between you and the bartender, chattering clusters of cliques comprised of hair-dressers,
fashionistas, choreographers, make-up artists and the like, dishing wildly (and simultaneously, I might add) about who was doing whom and what they were wearing, and perhaps a handful of highly buffed and waxed
indian chiefs, police officers, construction workers, military men, and/or cowboys in glitzy disco garb rallying support for a rousing chorus of 'Y-M-C-A' . What else would you expect at a gay bar??
Of course, I fretted the entire way there. Not only was I lacking the wardrobe to pull off a look that was 'gay enough' for the gay bar, but I wasn't sure I really
wanted to pull it off. I mean, even though I had come to terms with the fact that I was gay, and had taken some rather bold steps to proclaim my affection for David and to out myself to friends and family, I was really conflicted about the fact that I had to fundamentally change who I was to fit into my 'new lifestyle'. It simply wasn't me.
Yet here I was... on my way to my first gay bar with my new gay lover... about to flutter far from the comfort of my cocoon with untested and brightly colored wings... newly
metamorphosed into something completely different... woefully under-dressed and decidedly over-stressed. Talk about putting pressure on myself! At least I had the drama part down.
Imagine the anti-climax as we stepped out of David's tan Saturn into the summer-scorched parking lot of a somewhat dated, highly stuccoed strip mall in the heart of Old Scottsdale, and worked our way to a back corner of the building where we found the small and unassuming entrance to BS West. Other than being a little hard to find at first, there really wasn't any indication that this place was any different than any other bar I had ever been to. In fact, there really wasn't anything special about it at all! There was no techno-thumping emanating from within. There were no drag queens draping the doorway in seductive poses, beckoning us to enter. There were no special hand signals or code words required to get by the doorman. Nothing! It was just a regular entrance to a small two-story bar that could have passed as any watering hole in Arizona.
Somewhat conflicted with a mixture of relief, surprise, disappointment, excitement, anxiety, and general perplexity, I clutched David for reassurance and ventured inside. Upon entering, I was immediately assuaged by the all-too-familiar and utterly disarming bubble gum backdrop of Cindy
Lauper's 'Girls Just Want to have Fun'. Oh yes, it's true. And while it wasn't what I expected, it was most certainly appropriate. As I looked around, clad in my Levis and button-down oxford (with hints of pink that made it 'gay'), I saw scores of others who were sporting similar fashions, and was immediately confronted with the realization that I was not out of place in this bar. Not at all.
The first guys I set eyes on were fairly handsome thirty-somethings dressed in rugged jeans and Eddie-Bauer style shirts. They looked like average guys who just got off the construction site, and were meeting for a drink or two before heading home. Impossible. This is a
gay bar for God's sake!
I whispered to David...
"Hey, what are those guys doing here?"
"
Ummm..." he uttered, "...having drinks?"
"No... but why here? They're not gay."
"
Ummmm... OK."
"And that guy... he looks like an accountant or something!"
"
Ummmm... could be. (?)"
"And her... she looks normal. What's she doing here? Is that a lesbian??"
"
Ummm... 'she' would be a guy..."
"A transvestite?! No way! She doesn't look anything like Liza
Minelli or Elizabeth Taylor!"
David sighed with exasperation.
"OK... here we go..." I continued, "that guy's gay. I can totally tell by the highlights in his hair and the way he rolls his eyes and uses his hands when he talks."
"
Ummmm... they're pretty much all gay, Scott. Really."
And so it went. As the night went on... little by little... my stereotypes and preconceptions about being gay were snuffed one by one. These were just regular people - who happened to be gay, lesbian, transsexual, or bi-sexual - out for drinks, laughs, and/or companionship just like anybody else at any other bar. Aside from the fact that there was clearly same-sex attraction in the air, and the mildly distracting flock of drag queens that strutted throughout the club, you really wouldn't guess that it was anything out of the ordinary. It struck me that for the most part these people weren't defined by their sexuality. It was just a part of who they were... nothing more, nothing less.
After I adjusted to the relative normalcy of the place, and my incessant and absurd line of questioning finally subsided, David and I settled into the part of the bar that best fit our lifestyle... at the pool table. It's funny, because that's where we always ended up at our regular
neighborhood bar, and I never imagined that a gay bar would have pool tables too.
Who'd've thunk it?
We ended up staying for several hours... had a few drinks, met other couples, and played pool most of the night. It was a lot of fun, and not at all what I expected.
As I reflected on the evening in the car on the way home with David, I felt warm and reassured. I finally had a glimpse of what my life would become as a gay man... confident in my sexuality, partnered with a wonderful (and patient) man, and free to be myself. And I liked it. I no longer felt like I had to behave a certain way to be accepted - by anyone. I didn't have to act like I was straight, nor did I have to act like I was gay. It turns out I could simply be me, and happen to be gay. What more could I want?
Lost in thought, musing about the future, I was suddenly pulled back to the present by a muffled commotion outside the car... like a brewing road rage coming to a boil. Our windows were rolled up, so at first the sounds were muffled, but I could distinctly hear angry voices... yelling. As I looked out the window to my right, my view was consumed by a big pick-up truck driving very closely next to us, and the driver's fist was pounding angrily on the side of his truck. Glancing upward, I made eye contact with a VERY angry jock with a severe crew cut and teeming with testosterone. He was screaming profanities at us. The truck swerved back and forth next to us, threatening to hit the car, and the driver was not alone. The cab contained a trio of angry young men who were all shouting, waving their fists, and threatening us vehemently.
At first, I thought perhaps we had accidentally cut them off in traffic or something. But as I listened more carefully, I started to comprehend what they were saying. DIE, YOU F$%KING FAGS! YOU AIDS MOTHER F$%
KERS! WE'RE GOING TO KICK YOUR F$%KING ASS!
It was then that I realized I had been caressing the back of David's neck as he drove. I had been doing so ever since we left the bar, and these guys obviously didn't like that. I really hadn't thought about it. Normally, I would have been more careful about publicly displaying affection, but the experience at the bar had given me a different perspective - a new found confidence - one that was evidently misplaced and not without consequence.
Fortunately, we were on a main thoroughfare on a Saturday night, so there really wasn't too much these angry homophobes could do. After a litany of threats and profanities, they squealed off ahead of us with a profusion of middle-fingers and farewell curses. Had we been somewhere more remote with fewer witnesses, I have no doubt they would have forced us off the road and beaten us up - if not worse.
A little shaken but physically unscathed, David and I made our way home in tense silence. My hands stayed politely folded in my lap the entire way as I processed the events of the evening.
Ultimately my lesson(s) from the gay bar were ones that have lasted with me to this day.
First, LGBT people are as varied as society itself. If you go to a gay bar, you're bound to find the same assortment of personalities and lifestyles you would find at any straight bar. The only real difference is who goes home with whom.
Second, LGBT people don't frequent gay bars or reside in gay communities because we thrive on being different from the rest of society. No... we are simply looking for environments where we will be accepted and where we can feel safe... a place where we can caress our partner's neck without fear of being attacked. The reality is, there are enough angry homophobes out there to create a real concern for all of us who identify as LGBT. Just check out the video from my last blog if you don't believe me.
And
third, a stereotype is nothing more than a caricature of reality and should be treated as such. Yes, stereotypes have some basis of truth... you bet. I could go to
Boystown this weekend and find elements of all the
personas I described earlier (as well as find the bars that cater to them); and truth be told, I might even share some quiet chuckles with my friends making inappropriate jokes at their expense. It's human nature. Let's face it, the root of all humor begins with some form of insult, and stereotypes were spawned for the sole purpose of serving up a punchline. Heck, we all do it... life would be awfully dull if we couldn't poke fun at each other and ourselves!
But if you can't get past the stereotype... if you're not willing to see people for who they really are rather than how you would like to see them... then you might want to do some reflecting of your own. Stereotypes of any kind open the door to the myths and misconceptions that surround them, and that's what ultimately leads to prejudice and bigotry. None of us starts out as a bigot, but it's a slippery slope and we're all perched precariously at the top of the hill.
Fifteen years ago, my view of gays was clearly misinformed and laughably juvenile. I had assimilated all the stereotypes I had ever heard, and applied them with a broad brush to an entire community. As crazy as it seems, these caricatures influenced the way I viewed and treated LGBT people in general. It wasn't until I literally stepped across that threshold and saw the world through a different lens that I recognized the error of my ways.
As for the angry jocks that verbally assaulted us on the way home, I can only hope they eventually saw the light too. Societal views about gays have evolved quite a bit since then, and hopefully theirs did too. Life is too short to live with such anger and contempt. Live and let love, I say.
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