Leaving and Returning to the D.C. Gay Bubble

This post was submitted by Tyrone Hanley, from the comfort of his bubble.

Stepping out of your bubble is never easy. One such bubble-bursting incident came this past weekend for me.

I spent the weekend at Hersheypark in Hershey, Pa., for my boyfriend's birthday celebration. Normally -- an amusement park would not fall outside my comfort zone. However, this time was different. I decided to wear my newly purchased American Apparel Board shorts, which are significantly shorter than your average men’s shorts.

Initially, I was excited about them. However, the morning we were to depart I began to re-think my purchase. I’m a very sensitive person, and I was not sure I was ready to put myself out there. I had a strong feeling that my shorts would get a fair amount of negative attention. It’s clear to me that men are not supposed to wear short and tight shorts – at least not in the U.S. Nevertheless, I figured since I bought them, I might as well sport them.

Three hours later, we arrived at Hersheypark. Right away, I felt people were looking at me and my shorts. I am sure most of this was simply in my head -– I approached the situation with Carrie's mother in my head yelling, "They are going to laugh at you!"

More than likely, most people did not give a rat's ass about my display of my legs. They were probably more concerned with getting themselves into the park. Yet, I am not going to dismiss my anxiety as mere paranoia and/or sensitivity. I know I was justified in feeling nervous.

Any time a person steps outside of the gender box, society is very quick to push him or her right back in. I wanted to simply conquer my fear and ignore what others said about me.

How I wish it were that easy for me. It was not.

I respect and admire people who go about life with a carefree attitude, but I am not one of them. Seeing people laughing and staring at me, overhearing people make mean comments about my shorts in passing, or having someone say under his cough "excuse me" in a sarcastic tone -– all of which happened throughout my day -- hurt me and took lots of the amusement out of my time at the park. I could not stop thinking about it. The only time it was easy for me to forget about my feelings was when I was being tossed and/or twirled by some ride and trying to fight back my nausea.

I could have worn a longer pair of shorts the second day of the trip. I had a backup pair just in case I was not feeling comfortable in my new ones. However, I chose not to make the change for two reasons.

First,I thought it would be easier the second time around … you know, the whole “what-does-not-kill-you-will-make-you-stronger” mentality.

Second, I felt it was important to expose people to something different. I am not going to pretend that wearing short shorts was going to change people's notions of gender, but the more people are exposed to difference the more comfortable they become with it. Comfort brings acceptance and acceptance brings social and political change.

The challenge is –- this is a slow process, and it is asking a lot from everyone, especially the person who is considered different or inferior. To put oneself through a great deal of ridicule is a huge barrier to overcome. It takes a strong soul to survive those battles. Who wants to be a martyr anyway? I do not think I have the strength or desire to take on those fights, and I do not blame any one who would rather escape to a bubble than spend his or her life fighting for acceptance.

I am aware that there are drawbacks to living in bubbles, but the positives resounded much louder this weekend for me. Bubbles play a crucial role in surviving oppression, providing a haven from prejudice and non-acceptance. In our bubbles we can more easily express our full selves (well, at least the aspect of ourselves that "fits" within that bubble).

I am thankful for the plethora of gay social spaces and Pride season in D.C. They tell me being gay is not only good, but also something worth celebrating. Outside of the D.C. gay bubble, strong forces would like queer people to think otherwise. When Sunday evening came around, I was ready to flee back to my bubble. Nothing was sweeter than returning to the Chocolate City known as Washington, D.C.