The last time I volunteered, it was for a church. And it ended very badly. Their invitation to “come as you are” should have come with the footnote, “as long as you’re willing to change”.
Fast forward seven years, I have the career, the man, the mortgage, the cat and the Jamie Durie outdoor furniture, so it’s time I did something with those couple of hours I have left over each week after the aforementioned are invoiced, romanced, paid, fed and sat on.
Problem is that I can’t cook, clean, paint, tune-up cars or fix fences.
So the solution is to volunteer at my local high school.
One of the local schools links up at-risk Year 10 students with adults of good character in the community. So I got the police check, did the interviews, and now I am officially a mentor to a young guy.
However, I haven’t told the school that I’m gay.
They just didn’t ask. So I didn’t tell. And to be completely honest, I don’t want to tell them.
I like people assuming I’m straight. I prefer to be known as a radio presenter, a writer, a web developer and a guy who keeps his lawn looking good. Rather than “that gay writer”, “that gay guy on the radio” and “that gay neighbour”.
Not because gay is a dirty word, but because it’s a word loaded with assumptions about what I do in my bedroom, whether I cross-dress and whether I will infect their children with HIV.
I know I shouldn’t care what people think about me, but the fact is we humans, even gay ones, are social creatures. Our society is built on giving a shit what people think about us. Life isn’t a drag show. Cutting remarks, insults and pretending we don’t care what people think might be fine when it comes with sequins, stilettos and lip-synching at Flamingo’s. But in the real Tasmania, where I live, managing assumptions, presenting my most acceptable face and being relatable pays my bills, stops my fence being vandalised and means that a 15 year old high school kid doesn’t have to be afraid of me cracking on to him. Because it would never cross his mind in the first place.
Yet, despite the justifications I am able to make about why I won’t tell them, it still feels a little bit like I’m selling out.
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