What does the label "gay" really mean?

There's always been a part of me troubled by the label 'Gay'. When I was quite a bit younger I thought it a funny word for something so hated - not 'happy' at all, seemingly designed as torture. Nothing at all like what the word meant in the old movies from the 30s and 40s I enjoyed watching as a kid. I have struggled at times to figure out what that label essentially means, what it actually says about me personally, and as a member of this society. I have watched the acceptance of gay folk change dramatically over my lifetime as the society I was born into and raised within evolves and struggles to come to terms with its gay children growing into gay adults who demand equal rights. From the time I was about twelve or thirteen years old -- in the first half of the 1970s -- all I knew was that such a label offered me nothing positive whatsoever. Back then I had, with equal measure, an overwhelming intense curiosity and desire to explore my physical and emotional attraction to other boys, and a certainty that If I risked reaching out to someone honestly, being discovered as 'queer', that I was going to be punished for that crime.

I was convinced I was a disgusting sinner in the eyes of God for my thoughts and feelings, and that my desires were a curse and a punishment for something I had done. I knew somehow that if I was found out, I could expect only hatred in response. For me, at that time, there seemed no option but to repress those thoughts and desires and pray harder to God to save me and make me 'normal' (Note: He did not and I thank him greatly - if he exists). I learned to be good at pretending to find girls sexually attractive, I learned to laugh at the queer jokes (and look like I meant it), and openly reject anything remotely perceived as gay. There were no positive gay role models for me, no ‘out’ gays on television, and the few images that were available in the movies were very negative - the movie 'The Celluloid Closet" documents this very, very well.

Aside from some of the obvious social stigma of the time, I experienced intense institutional homophobia as a child, forced to endure participation in the Evil Roman Catholic Church - and very sick parents - sick with the deep wounds of the trauma from the sudden death of my brother at 13. It's a miracle my sisters and I walked away intact to the degree we did, never mind that I should feel 'proud' to be me (on any level) - that just never played a part of my upbringing or thinking.

Growing up in the suburbs of New York I had a few opportunities to explore sex play with other boys, but I was always much too afraid and never felt free enough to risk seeking to experiment. I preferred the safety of taking care of my own needs and fantasize about what it might be like to have a lover, or a life-partner (I imagined a male-male relationship would be sort of like a marriage, like Laurel and Hardy or Abbot and Costello) -- But much better looking, like Redford & Newman ;-). By the time I reached seventeen I was working on a good sized nervous-breakdown, with a substance abuse problem and some real serious emotional problems - what we call today PTSD, OCD, Anxiety and Panic disorders (p.s. the alcohol and drugs did NOT help).

As a means of getting out of the terrible environment I was in, I decided to join the US Navy, a good idea I thought, as my two grandfathers, an uncle and my father had all served in the Navy. I look back now and think WOW, no decision could have been more important at that time, and so wrongly decided - on so many levels. I left for boot-camp in Feb of 1979. (To put it in context this was three months after Harvey Milk and George Moscone's assassinations in San Francisco). Harvey's election to office was huge news and the Gay-Rights Movement was beginning to gain real momentum and some political power. I heard Harvey Milk's call for everyone to come out and destroy all the closet doors, forever, but I felt I was just not ready for that – I was too afraid still, and so what did I do? what any good self-loathing homo would do! Jumped out of the frying pan, and into the fire! Looking back I think I was so afraid to come out that I put myself in a place where I felt there was no chance whatsoever of that happening. Surely I could prove my manliness, that I wasn't anything like those other queers, those sissies - It was a self-imposed three year prison sentence, but something I learned a lot from and I am grateful now for what the experience taught me about discipline and facing fear.

In Navy boot-camp I "cleaned up my act". I lost weight, firmed up and I don't think I had ever been in better shape physically. After boot camp I was ordered to go to school at the San Diego, California Naval training center. It was there that I had my first sexual encounter with a fellow male student - behind a building on the base one night after drinking together at a bar downtown. The experience was more about fulfilling needs, than having a really strong attraction to this particular person. A brief affair lasted a couple of months, before we each went our own way. I received orders to serve overseas and he went to a ship somewhere - we never kept in touch. I served another two and a half years in the Navy, always being concerned about being outed and being very careful. While I am considered relatively masculine, and not stereotypically ‘gay’, there were those whose 'gaydar' picked up on me, and I had a few more, but few and far between, experiences.

After receiving an honorable discharge from the Navy, in the early 1980s I moved back in with my parents and went wild - I was so happy to be free - and wanted to find all the gay bars I could - wehoo - I was 21 and ready to explore everything that freedom offered. I had kept my desires under control for far too long in my view and it was time to let loose... I found no problem finding ‘friends’ at the clubs - the problem was fighting them off! For the next few years I visited bars and clubs on the weekends, and had many one-night stands with guys I met. I had several very brief relationships which never seemed to work out. I am very lucky I didn't contract HIV. Back then, many of us ignored the early ‘safe-sex’ warnings.

After being out of the military a few years I gained enough confidence and courage to come out to my family. First to my older sister, who has always accepted me unconditionally, (it was not a problem for her at all, as I expected, just a surprise). Next I came out to my parents - that I am sorry to say - did not go well at all. My father fell silent, and my mother released a tirade of abuse that would make a drunken sailor blush. For years I tolerated intense verbal abuse, while I struggled to get and stay clean and sober, accept myself for who I was, stay employed and regain my independence.

It took me a long time to clean up my act. At 31 years of age I finally put down the alcohol and drugs, and I have been clean and sober ever since. I have been in a (mostly positive) exclusive relationship with my partner for 13 years now. My parents eventually divorced and 15 years after I came out to them they each acknowledged me as someone they were proud of, and that my being gay ultimately did not matter- that I was, in fact, acceptable to them. While I wish they had come to that conclusion much earlier, I guess our parents, and the others who have caused us harm, can only do what they are capable of doing, given where they are, and the information and knowledge they have at that time. I suppose it is up to us to be forgiving and not hold on to anger and resentment - that's not weakness in my view, rather being kind, compassionate and forgiving.

What I've come to know is that labels are like masks that obscure the essential truth. Labels we put on ourselves and others don't really say much about who we are. So called ‘gay’ people can be very, very brave or cowardly, just as 'straight' people, and so-called 'straights' are not all narrow and rigid in their thinking. We all struggle through difficulties, it goes along with being human. I think though that what makes one brave is the willingness to rise up after being knocked down, time and again, getting up and facing your demons and fears, each day and accepting them for what they offer and can teach you. I think Nietzsche was right when he said “that which does not kill us makes us stronger”.

As for coming out or being out - for me it's been a very long process, certainly not an event. "Coming out" happens over and over as new people come into your life. I understand the arguments for coming out to anyone and everyone and believe they are valid however given my life experience - and where I am now - I've decided upon the approach that my life is an open book, but I decide who reads which chapters. If you've made it this far I'm impressed! Thank you for taking the time to read my story.

Slán agus beannacht leat! (Irish: Goodbye and blessings upon you!)

- TA OBroin

 

@babyjax13, @jvn95, @TheEdend -- Thanks to you each for taking the time to read my story!
After re-reading I noticed that I should have updated it. My relationship ended after 15 years - and we remain friends. I met someone new and am in a relationship with a awesome young man from Texas I met online. We moved in together and are doing gr8!