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Thursday, 25 September 2008 |
 When it comes to the naming of the female anatomy, the girls really got a bad rap. All the colloquial names for their little patch of privacy are just plain nasty. But when it comes to the little names we gay boys have been given for who we are, you'll find it's a fine line between what's funny and what's just plain offensive.
I get on really well with one of the straight guys I work with. He's an audio engineer, and for some reason I have always gotten on really well with this particular brand of media worker. Maybe it's because they're just about always the angriest, least satisfied and most stressed-out people in the media. Or maybe it's because they feel particularly comfortable with me because I don't take their ranting seriously. Whatever it is, we fondly call each other names each day. Each week he seems to come up with a new one, and so do I. I called him “an angry little lesbian” once, and he loved it. The next day he called me “the prancing pony”. The next week I started to call him “the face of Tasmania,” (he's not a pretty guy) and he came back a few hours later calling me “The Token Affirmative Action Employee”. We're both lucky, I guess, that neither of us takes much seriously. And this little game of “sticks and stones” makes us both laugh in an environment where everyone is under a great amount of stress.
This week's name-calling and teasing began in earnest. He was in my shared-office annoying my roomie when I put my hand in the air, school-student style, and said, “Excuse me, Miss, isn't it time to go now?”. He smiled and replied with, “Now come on, Nancy... you don't have to get your Calvin Kleins in a knot.”
For a brief second I was offended. For the first time ever with him. And it wasn't because he knew what brand of underwear I prefer. It was because he referred to me as “Nancy”. It was only a very brief second, perhaps less than that. But I got offended. And it got me to thinking about which point it is that something goes from funny to offensive. There is nothing innately offensive about him calling me “Nancy”. It was actually quite funny and everyone within earshot cracked up with laughter. I even got over myself quickly enough to laugh, without letting anyone know that inside I was offended – even though it really did last only a second.
But what if I had have been truly and deeply offended to the very core of my being? What if, instead of taking a mild upper-cut to my sometimes easily-bruised sense of masculinity, I, in my moment of emotional instability, misheard what he said and thought he had actually called me a “Nancy-boy?”
It's dangerous territory, this homophobia and vilification stuff. It's fine for him to refer to me as a “Prancing Pony” or as “Nancy”, but what if he had have said the same thing to another gay guy in the building, someone didn't know him the way I do? Would this other guy know that my colleague hasn't got a homophobic bone in his body? Or would he raise the rainbow flag and march to the steps of Parliament House in protest over my workplace's lack of action against homophobia?
Although I truly thank and bless those activists who have gone before us and paved a much more tolerant road for us to walk on in 2008, I also wonder about those, like my colleague, who would find themselves in a human resources, and possibly a legal mess, because one of us could so easily take offence to the way he speaks to those he is being genuinely affectionate to. It's hard to offend me. I left my sensitivities to this stuff back in high school. But I am not the average gay guy. Words like “fag”, “poofter”, “fudge-packer” and “pansy” can still deeply hurt those who have not had my particular journey. But we also can't deny that, even in today's world of teenagers, the word “gay” is still used to describe something that is lame, stupid or somehow not as good as it should be. I also understand that this way of using the word “gay” is pretty damn homophobic itself.
I guess I fear that people would put on some kind of act when they are around me. Because I really do not seek anyone's respect for being a gay man. The way I live my life, the relationships I have with those around me and the work I do are much better indicators of who I am. I don't want to walk into a staff meeting to silence because everyone's too scared that I might be offended. That, to me, is infinitely worse than a “Backs to the wall!” joke. I don't want people to think they can't share their opinions, views and all those things that are so deeply them because they fear that I won't understand, will feel left out or will somehow fly off the handle and assume they are homophobes. I want to connect with the people around me as me. Sure, “gay” comes with my package. But so does “passionate”, “loyal” and “very good at what I do”.
I like to think that at least one of those will usually speak louder than “gay”.
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" kind of thing) now for saying it in that derogatory sense. 
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