Tag Archives: gays

Dainty

Dainty: (adj) of delicate beauty; exquisite:

 I have been alive for all four stages of gay America.

Phase One: We hate gays.

Phase Two: Maybe we don’t hate them, but we don’t want to be one.

Phase Three: We accept gays, reluctantly.

Phase Four: How much gay might be in me?

If “gay America” was an advertising campaign, it was probably the most successful one there’s ever been, along with convincing housewives that Brawny paper towels are better because there’s a muscular man pictured on the wrapper.

It does create a quandary.

Without being homophobic, it crosses my mind that if I’m at a movie with another guy, the assumption of the auditorium may be that we’re a gay couple.

This is why heterosexual men are now traveling around in odd numbers: three, five and seven, for instance. It’s the only way to appear to be a gang instead of a gaggle.

But the worst part of it is that as a musician, an author and even occasionally a poet, I do want to coax my dainty side from the shadows and allow my words to color a picture with softer hues than black, gray and brown.

I want to be tender.

I want to be softer.

I want to be gentler in the areas where my heart comes near the soul of another human being.

I am weary of braggadocio.

I am completely exhausted by macho wrangling.

I want to be the person I need to be, to make sure that I leave a lingering message of openness and kindness.

Can I do this without being tagged with some new Internet term—like “metrosexual?”

Is it possible for a man to be dainty without being gay?

Is there a door to more expression instead of inserting coarse language to assure the hearer that there’s “muscle behind the message?”

I’m not gay.

I’m not afraid of being gay.

I’m not intimidated by gay people.

But I am dainty.

And I don’t want to apologize for it just so my silly mind and confused history of prejudice will drag me into ordering a second beer—just so I don’t look effeminate.

 

Countryfied

Countryfied: (adj) not sophisticated or cosmopolitan; provincial.

Short elections ago, when candidates were desperately searching for a means or an end to guarantee the vote of people of color, there was an abiding premise that the United States was becoming a deeper shade of beige.

Those running for election tried to guarantee the support of the younger crowd who could hip and hop instead of the older ones, who seemed to flip and flop.

Then, in 2016, the notion of the decline of rural America and the urbanization of the nation was startled by the election of the new President. His constituency didn’t seem to know too much about Hollywood, the Oscars or America’s Top 40.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Their musical selection landed somewhere between “the Johns”—Lennon or Cash. Their clothing was simple and bought from a common department store they shared with their neighbors (being careful not to wear the same shirt on the same day).

Their food was country-fried because they, themselves, were countryfied.

Although attempts were made to characterize this voting block as bigoted, prejudiced, ignorant and unwilling to accept new ideas and different people, it turns out that in many cases, they didn’t hate blacks, gays, Hispanics and feminists—just chose not to hang around them.

The reason for this, in their minds, was simple. These countryfied folks were taught to be humble and not pushy, with a stringent fear of God and zealous honoring of the flag. They deemed themselves patriots. Actually, it’s the piece of arrogance they proudly display while trying to suppress any other willfulness that attempts to surface.

So suddenly, in our time, the politicians are trying to find “countryfied” again.


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Convert

Convert: (v) to change; transform.

All my life, I’ve been asked to convert.

As a young boy, I was threatened that we would soon convert to the metric system. Still waiting.

I had to convert to being color-blind. I wasn’t raised that way, nor was anyone else under the age of twenty.

I was told to convert to the idea of divorce, and then to the concept that dividing children between households was wise, even though Solomon passed on the idea.funny wisdom on words that begin with a C

Each time it has been explained to me that for the sake of tolerance and mercy it is good that I allow for other people to have their choices.

I had to convert to the practicality of pro-choice, even though I find abortion enigmatic.

But now I’m being asked to convert to sexuality. I have always believed that sexuality is having an orgasm. I do not care how you reach that climax, nor should you be interested in my path.

But we were told to convert because of the stigma, prejudice and animosity toward homosexuality. Excellent. This made me more open, congenial and kind to lesbians and gays. Then I was told this was insufficient.

I was informed that even though lesbians and gays were “born that way,” there is another group—bisexuals—which should be included, even though their existence brings to question the assertion of being born gay. Not satisfied with the LGB community, transgenders were thrown in. Transgender actually has nothing to do with sexuality but is a processing in the lives of a few people to discover in what gender they truly find themselves.

Then, this was no longer sufficient. Even though for years it was the LGBT community, a Q has been added—for “questioning.” This is apparently for people who were not born in any particular way, who are deciding who they want to be, even though we originally said this was not something you determined.

What is obviously missing from the acronym is an H—for heterosexual.

Why would that be?

I guess if I want to convert to something, I would like to see a consistency in thought rather than trying to jump on at the amoeba stage and hang around for the entire evolution… to being human.


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Community

Community: (n) a group of people living in the same place or having a particular characteristic in common.

Our little village was filled with community pride.

It was cute–a little bigger than a postage stamp, yet you could walk around the entire downtown area in less than ten minutes.

Growing up there, I was taught that community is not so much sharing a location, but rather, absorbing a basic ideology.

I’m not sure who came up with the standards or the principles which were passed down among the locals and inhaled like air, but generally speaking, you could do well in my community if you understood the mindset and the dress code.

If for some reason, you wanted to vary from the common universal brain, or clothe yourself in such a way as to gain too much attention, then you were initially viewed as comical.

If you persisted, you went from comical to being deemed confused.

And if confusion was maintained, then you would be considered dangerous and need to be dealt with by the negative approaches established by our community.

It was a very successful system.

We were able, through this system, to keep all blacks, Hispanics, gays, lesbians and long-haired rock and rollers far from our borders–without ever firing a shot.

The teeny tiny handful of those who remained were simply ostracized–or maybe just received really poor mail service.

None of the people in our community considered themselves prejudiced–just enamored by a preference. After all, if you wanted varying behaviors, you could drive twenty miles down the road to the Big City, where there were all sorts of options available, complete with rape, murder and a variety of other crimes. We were thoroughly frightened of the outside world, without ever being officially indoctrinated into a cult.

But our community was a cult.

I found this out when I wanted to stray from the daily routine and pursue my own ideas. No one struck me, no one physically attacked me, and no one even openly rebuked me. They just left me out of everything.

The system works to this day. All across America little towns have a network of gossipers who warn of suspicious arrivals, allowing the community a chance to provide the inconsideration to drive good folks away.

 

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