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OREGON’S LGBTO NEWSMAGAZINE
JUNE 17. 2011
57
Finding Hope (and Pride) in a Time Warp
W hen you’ve worked in the distant suburbs
as long as I have, in order to survive you learn
to master the art of maintaining minimal—
but vital— levels of interest. It’s a magical
combination of escapism and perseverance. I We’re clearly products of our
conjure up miniature mind games that serve
as more than survival mechanisms, they func environments—and, as a collective,
tion as outright sanity-keepers. For example, I our evolution is uneven.
might count and categorize themed Disney
sweatshirts, note the frequency with which I always muster responses—I’m required to, in
people marvel at w hat’s “over there, across the a way. “Should I let my husband shave his
bridge” or catalog misbehaving, screaming head?” O f course you should', shaved heads are
children, reminding myself to savor sweet sexy— but make sure the buzz is really short. Or,
“I’m going shopping for my boyfriend, what
freedom and never have any.
Although I tease the northernmost point of should I buy him?”
I often ramble and, soon after, can’t repeat
Clark County relentlessly, there’s a perk I rarely
discuss. Braving these suburbs day in and day my replies if my life depended on it. I could
out offers an interesting perspective on gay explain that wigs and dresses for men are “in”
progress, a barometer if you will— like a litmus now and the next morning watch an army o f
test, one set well outside the safe confines of husbands saunter in for their coffee dressed in
our city. This gauge certainly isn’t a concrete drag. O r I could pitch bunny suits. The possi
measurement, but reading people and, in turn, bilities are endless.
Interactions can be uncomfortable. Some
relating said findings to how far we’ve come
proves interesting. It’s like visiting a political times, patrons recount tales o f their gay
friends, pointless stories intended to prove
time warp—with lessons.
O f course I find expected stereotypes. Plen some made-up queer camaraderie. “This friend
ty o f overly delighted women are way too im I work with, he’s a gay. Well, he said...” Pauses
pressed by my sassy queer countenance. Being in conversation and long, vexatious silences
gay, after all, gives me authority on virtually all become the norm when we broach more
things superficial. Ever the caged zoo animal, meaningful topics: adoption, marriage or
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We’re clearly products of our environments—
and, as a collective, our evolution is uneven.
Most of my closest gay friends were born and
bred in the suburbs. Yes, most made quick es
hand-holding. Hands Across Hawthorne re capes, but generations of hesitancy and awk
mains a hot topic at our water cooler. It seems ward pauses— not to mention shame— are so
that everyone in Clark County was glued to deeply ingrained in our psyche that lip service,
their late news that night, amazed there are alone can’t undo a lifetime of indoctrination.
more gays in the world than the one who doles That takes concerted action: volunteering at
out lattes and undoubtedly errant fashion BRO, spending a weekend watching queer
advice.
documentaries featuring Joey Arias. Reading
All the (welcome) talk about hand-holding And rIhe Band Played On. Bona fide effort.
made me examine my own history with man-
As much as I praise those who show affec
on-m an affection. Now, it’s not like I’ve had a tion in the city, I reserve my utmost for those
slew o f serious boyfriends— my yet-to-be- brave enough to do so in suburbia. In the same
pinned-down neuroses have limited me to a coffee shop where I sweat over hot espresso
mere handful. As a younger gay, I brazenly while Bev yammers on and on about her hus
grasped countless boys’ hands while venturing band’s haircut and attire, high school sweet
to The City Nightclub or Peacock in the Park. hearts come in, obviously on a date, order
During Peacock’s drag show, I sat with boys drinks and sit down to cavort and converse.
on blankets, sipping booze from thermoses Every now and then, the couple consists o f two
and showing all the affection I could muster.
girls or, although rarer, two boys. They weather
Time wore on, I got a bit older and I’ve yet to unnecessarily long stares, louder sighs and cold
have a partner completely at ease showing affec shoulders. Nonplussed, the duos seldom miss a
tion in public, save for my last. Some cringed, beat. And, quite suddenly, my suburban gay
others whispered “not here,” as if clasped palms barometer spikes in our favor.
equaled performing fellatio in the food court at
Pioneer Place. Those fledgling courtships were Sometimes I temper rampant cynicism with hope.
less about my poor dating track record; they I'll be at Just O ut'r booth, #9, from 3 to 6 p.m.
were essentially their own benchmarks.
Sat., June 18. E m a ildaniel@justout.com.
f if