Tag: Queer

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Queer, Just How Queer? by Ricky


     I am not the pejorative “queer” in any way, shape, or form. I may be a bit eccentric or odd to some people, but “queer,” never!


     I believe in God, America, and mom’s apple pie, that’s not “queer.” I believe in freedom, the Declaration of Independence, the Constitution, and mom’s homemade ice cream, that’s not “queer.” I believe in the Scout Slogan, Scout Oath, and the Scout Law, that’s not “queer.” I believe in baseball, basketball, football, and John Wayne, that’s not “queer.” I believe in hamburgers, hotdogs, and yellow potato salad, that’s not “queer.” I believe in Cheerios, Wheaties, and Baseball Nut ice cream, that’s not “queer.” I believe that love conquers all, that good triumphs over evil, and that much harm is caused by people who do not understand and do not live their professed religion, that’s not “queer.”


     I believe that my children love me and that they know I love them, that’s not “queer.” I believe that God loves me in spite of my shortcomings, that Jesus Christ died for my sins (yes, I do have some), and that I might live to see His return, that’s not “queer.” I believe in the King James Version of the Bible (as far as it has been translated correctly) and The Book of Mormon, that’s not “queer,” that’s religion. I believe in the inherent goodness of men, women, and friends, that’s not “queer,” a bit naïve maybe but not “queer.” 


     I am physically 64, psychologically 12, and love “G” rated movies, that is odd, but not “queer.” I believe that in spite of my foibles and shortcomings, I am a good person, that’s not “queer,” that’s confidence. I believe in Classical Music, Santa Claus, and Peter Pan, that’s odd or even eccentric maybe, but not “queer.”


     I believe in Superman, Batman, and in “fighting” for freedom, justice, and equality under the Law for everyone. I believe the Constitution exists to protect The People from the Government and the minority from the tyranny of the majority. None of this is “queer,” but it is Americanism. I believe that all elected officials convicted of crimes should be permanently ineligible to hold public office and I believe all stockbrokers, CEO’s and board members of corporations that engage in fraudulent activities or that go bankrupt should be held financially accountable to pay back stockholder losses from their personal accounts and the corporations dissolved, that’s not “queer,” that’s justice. I believe in honoring, obeying, and sustaining the law, that’s not “queer,” that’s good citizenship.


     No. I am not the pejorative “queer” in any way, shape, or form. I may be a bit eccentric or odd to some people, but “queer,” never! 


     However, I do have a penis fetish.


© 21 June 2012

About the Author
Emerald Bay, Lake Tahoe, CA

Ricky was born in 1948 in downtown Los Angeles.  Just prior to turning 8 years old, he was sent to live with his grand-parents on their farm in Isanti County, Minnesota for two years while (unknown to him) his parents obtained a divorce.

When reunited with his mother and new stepfather, he lived one summer at Emerald Bay and then at South Lake Tahoe, graduating from South Tahoe High School in 1966.  After three tours of duty with the Air Force, he moved to Denver, Colorado where he lived with his wife of 27 years and their four children.  His wife passed away from complications of breast cancer four days after 9-11.

He came out as a gay man in the summer of 2010.  He says, “I find writing these memories to be very therapeutic.”

Ricky’s story blog is “TheTahoeBoy.blogspot.com”.

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How Queer Is Queer: Just Being Me by Donny Kaye

“SOME DUDES MARRY DUDES.  GET OVER IT”
“I HAVE A PHD. Pretty huge dick”
“BEST LICK ON A STICK”
“I LIKE GIRLS THAT LIKE GIRLS”

     These were some of the t-shirt messages I enjoyed while interacting with participants in this past weekend’s PRIDE celebration.  And the t-shirts?  The t-shirts don’t hold a candle to some of the titillating visual experiences of viewing participants in various costumes throughout the weekend.

     So, just how queer is queer? Can you ever be too queer? Is there an option to be or not to be? How Shakespearian!

     Yes!

     I am! Queer that is!

     It’s Friday night of PRIDE weekend and I’m walking down Colfax headed into the action, as it were. My youngest daughter has just text me saying “it’s your first dad” referring to it being PRIDE weekend. Actually last year was, she just didn’t know it!  Then, that is. And yet when I came out she was the one of my three children who said “I’ve always known dad”. In that instance I must’ve been too queer.

     That warm sunny Sunday afternoon in April over a year ago when I had my “I can’t stand it any longer” conversation with my life partner, she said “I wondered when I first met you”.  There must have been something there, I mean, like over-the-top in too queer.

     When I had breakfast with my dearest friend Grett who I’ve known since she was two years of age, amidst the tears and in the sense of shame in revealing to her that I kept the secret for far too long, she said “I’ve always known”. 

     There seems to be a pattern; partner, daughter, best friend, all seemed to have known. In fact when I consider the many coming out conversations I had with my “then” circle of friends” not too many were surprised. It was the confirmation that sent them scrambling! 
I don’t know if that was about me, or them, but definitely it was too much!

     And so this Friday afternoon as I walk through the cloudy streets in Denver headed into Friday night PRIDE celebrations I wonder about too queer and it being too much! In the question of too queer it seems more about them than it does about me, after all, I’m just being me.

     Yes, I do have an eye for design and color. I’ve always searched for just the right things to put together, like in clothing-wise and decorating-wise and in every-other-way-wise!

     If not HGTV and the shows on design always (or most of the time) presented by recognizably gay men, I enjoyed the food channel. Could that possibly be a tip-off, in terms of being too gay?

     Yes, I’ve always been on the sensitive side as my mother used to say. Even when I announced to my mom that I was getting married her response was, “Why do you want to get married? There is so much of life for you to experience!” I have an ability to listen to people and to intervene on others behalf as they need me. I sit and cry with them. I’ve always been able to put my arms around someone consoling them in their upset, doubt or grief.

     So, there you have it; my attention to design, my interest in food, the emotional sensitivities and then you add the fact that I’ve never liked sports, and I happened to choose a profession where I worked with women all the time–what else could you expect. Even before I began my career in education when I worked in the factory, I was one of the only stockmen who could keep all of my dyke female machine operators happy!! 

     Certifiably queer! I am just me! 

     The questions and the discomfort around my possibly being too queer really do rest with everyone outside of me and not really with me.  As I exist in that realization, I wonder if the pushback is about their doubt about themselves and the possibility that they are too much, in one way or another. Possibly at some point in their lives they’ve considered a variant sexual experience too! One thing for sure, I’ve certainly gotten their attention, if gaining attention is what the t-shirt slogans and the unique dress (or undress) are all about.

     When considering the question of “too much,” the actual realization is that the quality of being too much exists in the eyes and mind of someone outside of myself and then gets projected back onto me, making me wonder if I am too much!  Those dirty rascals!

     And so I ask you my dearest of friends am I “too queer” or might I just be BEING ME?

About the Author

Donny Kaye-Is a native born Denverite. He has lived his life posing as a hetero-sexual male, while always knowing that his sexual orientation was that of a gay male. In recent years he has confronted the pressures of society that forced him into deep denial regarding his sexuality and an experience of living somewhat of a disintegrated life. “I never forgot for a minute that I was what my childhood friends mocked, what I thought my parents would reject and what my loving God supposedly condemned to limitless suffering.” StoryTime at The Center has been essential to assisting him with not only telling the stories of his childhood, adolescence and adulthood but also to merely recall the stories of his past that were covered with lies and repressed in to the deepest corners of his memory. Within the past two years he has “come out” not only to himself but to his wife of four decades, his three children, their partners and countless extended family and friends. Donny is divorced and yet remains closely connected with his family. He lives in the Capitol Hill Community of Denver, in integrity with himself and in a way that has resulted in an experience of more fully realizing integration within his life experiences. He participates in many functions of the GLBTQ community.

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I Do Deviate by Nicholas

     I am not terribly fond of the term “queer.” I do not share the enthusiasm for that word that many younger gays and lesbians seem to. I came out in the great age of gay lib when we most wanted to show the world how not-queer we were. I needed also to show me how not-queer I was. 

     “Queer” depends on a context. It needs a norm to deviate from. It needs a norm from which to accuse others of not measuring up to or violating. Queer back then meant weak, inadequate, incapable, diseased, shameful. A queer was one who couldn’t live a healthy life. A queer was sunken in lust and incapable of rising to the romantic heights of love.

     I’ve had my lusts for sure but have known and given love as well. The problem for me is that while I do not identify as queer nor take any pride in being queer, I am definitely not normal—normal as defined by present day American culture. I do deviate. Let me count the ways.

     Sex, of course. I, a man, have sex with men. Not normal, though I hardly see it as queer. Most of that sex is currently with one man—my husband—in a sort of nod to normality. But I guess that is queer, for me to talk of a husband.

     On to politics and the queer thing shows up again. Though I see many of my political views as fitting easily into mainstream liberal American thinking, I can’t help but feel that is getting queerer and queerer. For one thing, I value intelligence. So that by itself pushes me off the political stage. I tend to be critical of politicians, all politicians, even those on my side. I don’t believe Barack Obama can fix the economy and certainly not in ways I would think essential—like helping poor people instead of rich ones. But Republicans on the other hand would only make a bigger, more inequitable mess of it. I would really rather see an American president talk about investing more money in public transit than giving nice speeches about gay marriage. Go figure. I must be queer.

     I do see myself as part of some larger things like a community, a society, a world, a natural system. That’s queer in the individually greedy USA. I don’t mind paying taxes and think that more people (i.e., those who have fed hugely from the money trough) should pay more so others can count on a decent life. Now that’s really queer. My lavender is now turning pink, as in pinko.  

     I can’t leave out religion because this is where I get really queer. My soul pulls me in to be part of one though I remain highly skeptical of it. I guess I’d call myself Christian though I prefer to follow the example of Jesus Christ as a man seeking to include everybody in his fellowship. I find it intriguing that Christ taught with stories and parables and not the heavy-handed lectures that his followers prefer today. I think that the “Jesus is my personal savior” approach to spirituality as kind of preposterous and egotistical and the body and blood stuff is just gruesome and distasteful. 

     I see the Christian message as one inspiring humans to be kind, do good, practice humility, and restrain egoism. It is a way of questioning, not of imposing answers on others, not a way of trumpeting ego and excluding people you don’t like because of something handily called “god’s will.” I am so queer, in fact, that I like to say your faith is only as strong as your doubts.

     Well, it seems that I am more queer outside of bed than in it. And that is a status that I highly cherish and value in friends as well. One is better off being queer not only because the sex is actually better but so is the rest of life. Be yourself means, always be yourself, that unique person with your unique perspectives. It’s a full-time job being queer.

About the Author


Nicholas grew up in Cleveland, then grew up in San Francisco, and is now growing up in Denver. He retired from work with non-profits in 2009 and now bicycles, gardens, cooks, does yoga, writes stories, and loves to go out for coffee.
  
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Queer, Just How Queer by Phillip Hoyle

      I love to use the word queer, the term brought into gay prominence in political and academic queering movements of the 1960s through the 90s. I also like it for the memories it raises of my grandma Pink, who in old fashion used the word for anything odd. I like it for its political symbolism and for making positive a word too long used as a pejorative. I like it for its strength. I like it for its inclusive quality covering the bases of LGBTandQ concerns. I like it for its exclusive quality, as in not too many people I run into want to be called by this moniker. I especially like the discomfort its use raises among some of my gay friends! It’s a word of wide potential and great humor. So just how queer am I? It’s a fair question. I’ll try to answer it once and for all.

     This morning I looked through the photographs on my digital camera that included those I took last summer at Pridefest Denver 2012. I was surprised to find there quite a few more images, ones I thought had been erased when I uploaded them into my computer. I flipped through frame after frame and saw so much of my life there, even photos from Pridefest Denver 2011. First I saw a photo of my partner’s 90-year-old mother, sitting at the kitchen table drinking her morning coffee. I often kid her about all her gay sons although only one of her offspring turned out to be gay. Her multiplicity of gay sons is made up of all of Jim’s and my gay friends. I call them her growing family of gay kids. She smiles for me and takes delight in these others who bring her presents of chocolate, humor, and unaffected affection. She represents in this picture a nine-year connection I have with her son and the growing numbers of her other gay sons. The photo reveals layer after layer of queer experience and relationship, but it’s just the beginning. I did mention two sets of photos taken at Pridefest, but I haven’t yet told of the hundreds of photos of the family of plastic pink flamingos that live in our yard shown standing alone and together among a variety of ferns. I took these and many more in the past couple of years, the queer obsession of a queer artist! I also haven’t mentioned many photos of flowers, of my artwork, of self-portraits, of extreme Christmas decorations at a local gay bar, of the bunch of men I run with at parties, in restaurants, and on the street. I haven’t told you of pictures of an art display, of drag queens, of small, large, and supersized lesbians, of gay architects and engineers, of employees of Chipotle restaurants, of young people polling for the Obama campaign, of great arches of rainbow colored balloons, of a guy wearing fairy wings, of a barely-clad muscle man standing by a muscle car, of the model in a platinum blond wig and red bikini sitting in a red convertible advertising At the Beach, of a parade on-looker smoking a huge stogie, of people dancing, of a young drag queen posing sexily for me, of a young man in shorts sitting on the curb with his little dog watching the parade, of political signs urging the election of sane officials, of leather studs, of a drum and bagpipe band in their smart kilts, of religiously motivated anti-gay protesters, of two young guys in interestingly revealing slacks, of Senior Citizens doing a dance routine with their walkers, of youngsters calling attention to Rainbow Alley, of the prominent landmark The Center makes along the route, of the partiers on its roof sometimes watching the parade passing by below, of the poignant reminder of the ongoing presence of AIDS among us, of wild hairdos, of the Imperial Court, or of the leathery Uncle Sam who stopped to ask me, “Where’s the free beer?” I haven’t said a word of many other pictures of musicians, dancers, activists, on and on. These photos are my people whom I celebrate with my little digital camera as passionately as Walt Whitman in the nineteenth century celebrated the democracy of America, the endless variety of life, the human body, his own body, and his sturdy comrades with whom he liked to lie in Leaves of Grass. 

     So just how queer am I? Really, really queer. I’ve been trying to tell you just how queer in my stories! In summary of all I’ve said to you in the past, hear this: 

* I’m as queer as the little boy who wanted to wear both cowboy and Indian costumes in public.
* I’m as queer as the boy who donned his great aunt’s wig and sister’s skirt and went to the family grocery store to show himself to his dad.
* I’m as queer as the teen who used to lie in bed next to his dad, not only to read alongside him but also to smell him.
* I’m as queer as the teen who bragged to another boy about marking his friend with hickies.
* I’m as queer as any teen boy singing in the school choir and more than most of them.
* I’m as queer as the high schooler who looked forward to each issue of House Beautiful.
* I’m as queer as the boy who ordered prints from a NYC art print company and treasured the company’s catalogue with its variety of homoerotic images.
* I’m as queer as the young man who discovered the striking 
International Male ads and catalogue.
* I’m as queer as the young man whose first male friend in adulthood was homosexual.
* I’m as queer as the young man who read all the homosexual-theme books in the public library.
* I’m as queer as the young man with wife and children who at age thirty fell in love with another man.
* I’m as queer as the young man who reveled in the idea he was bisexual.
* I’m as queer as the young man who discovered that his homosexual proclivities lay at the center of his sexuality.
* I’m as queer as the middle-age man who had sexual affairs with other men.
* I’m as queer as the writer who when he was asked to include cultural diversity in an adult religious education resource anthology quoted gay writers and HIV-related themes alongside many other cultural writings.
* I’m as queer as the middle-age man who left his wife to live as a gay man in a large city.
* I’m as queer as the old man who snapped photos at Pridfest knowing he was as queer as anyone there and loved the notion and the reality of it.

     I am the old man who says all these things proudly and with love, deep love for all my companions:
* Male and female
* Educated and uneducated
* Professional and worker
* Wealthy and dirt-poor
* Crazy and sane
* Chic and tasteless
* Laughing and crying
* Hale and exhausted
* Living it up and overwhelmed
     
     So, how queer am I? Pretty darn queer and happy as a lark about it.
     And now, if you’ll pose, I’ll take even more pictures with my camera, snapshots of the folk who add so richly to the queerness of my existence and the joy of my gay life. 

About the Author

Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, giving massages, and socializing. His massage practice funds his other activities that keep him busy with groups of writers and artists, and folk with pains. Following thirty-two years in church work, he now focuses on creating beauty and ministering to the clients in his practice. He volunteers at The Center leading “Telling Your Story.”