Feminine gay men
Gay Men and Femininity: The Horror
Why are there so many hair stylists who are gay? Why are our homes so often featured in interior layout magazines?
Why are we often the tastemakers of the fashion industry?
Why is there an entire décor resale website named “Previously Owned By A Gay Man”?
Is there a exceptional gay “taste” gene yet to be discovered?
Alan Downs, in his popular manual The Velvet Rage, argues that the reason that lgbtq+ men are overrepresented as leaders in these industries is that we’ve had to become masters of hiding. As kids our real selves did not get validated, and so we learned to create the appearance of beauty as way to hide our “unbeautiful” selves from the world. “We’re experts in making things and people see good,” writes Downs.
It’s an interesting theory, and one that would be difficult to prove or disprove. I own no idea if it’s true. However, I do assume The Velvet Rage is the most important book we have on lgbtq+ men’s development.
What I love about the book are the first several chapters where he validates, with hard-hitting language, the challenges of growing up as a gay young man in a direct family. You will feel seen and heard in these chapters. They w
Artwork by Christopher Ikonomou (Xe/He)
I experienced homophobia within my first two weeks at UCLA — a surprise considering Chancellor Gene Block deemed UCLA no place for discrimination in his new undergraduate student welcome speech.
I was first belittled for the way I speak — the slang I use, the relative pitch of my voice, and my vigorous inflections — by two guys who were talking to one of my roommates. As I joined the conversation, they picked up on my stereotypically feminine voice. They mimicked me, repeating what I said in high-pitched voices while laughing at each other. When my roommate called them out, they got defensive and denied any bigoted intentions.
Later that week, I saw one of the guys in the hallway outside of the floor’s lounge. As I passed by, he asked me how I was doing in a way that I felt was overly cordial considering our previous run-in. I ignored him, and as I turned the corner to my dorm, he said, “Yeah, fuck you!” while someone that was standing with him followed me around the corner and watched me enter my room.
After, I sat at my desk, shocked.
I saw him again while passing through the lounge, in the stairwell, at the other end of the
As the mainstream image of what a gay male is continues to morph into more of a hero and less of a victim, we proceed to cast our most handsome, athletic and masculine men in the head roles of the queer movement. As our rainbow fades to pastel, culture now understands that lgbtq+ men can be just like the rest of mainstream society. Our collective has a new cast of gay heroes who place our most chiseled, scruffy-jawlined faces forward for everyone to see. From TV stars like Wentworth Miller to athletes prefer Jason Collins, the planet now knows that we can be strong and manly and fit right in with the relax of the boys. But there is a other kind of strength that has always existed within gay culture, although it might not come in the form of bulging muscles and bass voices.
Unlike his masculine counterpart, the effeminate gay man doesn't have the luxury of hiding behind a butch façade until he is comfortable with coming out of the closet. You know the type. He can learn the choreography to the latest pop song more quickly than you can learn the lyrics. In high university he had to produce a beeline for his car the minute the bell rang so that he could avoid the worn-out name calli
6 Steps Towards Whole-Heartedly Loving Yourself as a Feminine Gay Man
Source: Everyday Feminism
When I was a teenager, I was vocally adamant about not being attracted to other feminine same-sex attracted boys.
I was, at that point, the amalgamation of my fear, anger, angst, confusion, and self-loathing.
I think back to those days and wish I could go back in time, not to check or lecture myself, but to give myself the love I wasn’t getting anywhere else.
I was in a bad place. I knew I talked like what people imagine gay men talk like. I knew I swished my hips when I walked. I knew I stood out.
Because people either ignored these things altogether or had something negative to say. I began to see the things that made me different as bad. That’s all that the earth had ever showed me.
I hated people like me because I thought myself something worth hating.
No one celebrated feminine gay men, and I wasn’t tough or independent enough to stand on my own and celebrate myself. I desperately needed validation.
To be honest, I didn’t even perceive I hated myself as much as I was awake of the reality that I hated others. I reflection myself above the stereotypes – I was notlike those ga