TNG Flashback: Becoming The Hated

The work day is almost over. We hope you use your last ounce of concentration to revisit this year-old TNG article. Originally published by TNG reader Ameriwire on 2/7/2008.

It’s a fascinating fact to me that people and their institutions tend to mimic—or discover themselves to be—the very objects of their professed abhorrence. Literature, film, history, politics and current events are rife with examples. So too is Washington’s gay scene.

I think the real lesson of the ‘hate-it-then-become-it’ narrative is lost on most people (including me until recently). Take for example Blade Runner, wherein the replicant-hunter Deckard ultimately realizes that he is a replicant himself. Or those goth kids in high school who hated the cool kids for being so shallow and unwelcoming to them, but who nonetheless were pretty much just as shallow and just as unwelcoming to everyone else. Or take Sen. Larry Craig, whose arrest for attempting to sexually engage another man in an airport bathroom was seen as all the more ironic in light of his previous public statements and legislative initiatives decrying gay people. I think the lesson most people take from such things is “it’s a bad idea to foster negative opinions and behave aggressively toward other people, because you may find yourself to be a victim of your own arrogant vitriol.”

But I don’t think that’s really the point. In some cases, it’s a damn good idea to foster negative opinions and behave aggressively toward other people, and it’s not an arrogant thing to do. Like, I’m pretty comfortable having strong negative opinions about Fred Phelps, George W. Bush, and Alec Baldwin, and even when I’m very scrupulous in my self-search, I don’t see anything arrogant, dangerous, or self-deceiving about my position. (Well maybe in the case of Baldwin; I guess I’ve never been much of an actor either . . . hmmm.)

The real lesson to take from these stories is that you can probably learn something about yourself by examining and identifying the people or institutions you dislike very specifically, and by asking yourself why you dislike them and how you are different. You might also want to ask yourself whether you should consider changing your position or changing something about yourself. Or both. Because of the human tendency toward arrogance, mental over-generalization, and self-absolution, your answers—if you are honest with yourself—may surprise you. (TNG Zack seems to have casually engaged in this exercise in honesty, actually, in his recent post about not being a hypocrite when it comes to cock-spotting in the gym showers.)

These thoughts crystallized for me at Crack 5 (that bastion of ponderous thought!) this past Saturday night.

As the confident (or drunk?) guys on stage showed us the neat tricks they could do with their bodies and celebrated their near nakedness—and as I caught myself enjoying it alongside the horny, flirty, muscular masses—it suddenly clicked for me why I came to ‘hate the gay scene’ so much, and why I’ve been sitting it out for the last five years or so. The fact is I really don’t hate it and I never really stopped being a part of it anyway; I just participated begrudgingly until recently. How can I deny that I liked seeing cute shirtless guys grinning, rockin out, and parading their neatly packaged groins on stage?! How can I deny that it’s absolutely thrilling for me when guys slip me their numbers or compliment my body, making me feel fantastically attractive? How can I deny that I love being a member of a group that has inside jokes that require no explanation for me, but which would be completely lost on most straight men? I can’t deny those things, they’re great. There are things that I really love about being around groups of gay men. So how did I come to think I hated it so much? What is it exactly that I dislike and how am I different?

I realize now that I’m very different in some ways and not so different in others. Yes, like almost all gay men, I love attention and affection from attractive young men; but no, I don’t appreciate the condescension, hostility, and shallow unfriendliness that I usually have to navigate to get it. I love feeling like I’m attractive and desirable and I like that many (though alas certainly not all) gay guys seem to appreciate my muscles, often even telling me so. But I hate the enormous pressure I feel to be in top shape at all times, or risk losing any value I might have had to them. And yes, like all human beings, I love feeling like I’m a valuable and appreciated part of a group . . . but I hate the fact that in gay circles I so often feel that I’m not.

The disdain I have had for Washington’s gay culture was misplaced; there was no need to throw out the gay baby with the designer bathwater. The value I get out of being involved is bound to outweigh the isolation I’ve felt by living in (halfhearted) protest. I’ve decided to re-engage the scene on my own terms. The things that frightened me into exile before won’t matter now, because I’m not gay anymore. I’m New Gay, baby.