I hope this doesn't sound homophobic, but some gay writers feel so strongly dismissed by the rest of society that they can't write anything that doesn't underscore their status as an outsider, which they feel is double the outsider status of straight writers, who are also loners but less often discriminated against. And it's sometimes true, I guess, that when a gay writer comes out, he first has to overcome society's lingering homophobia (which does seem inextinguishable, doesn't it, even after so many celebrities have come out) and then, when he's finally feeling entitled to his gayness, he's rejected a second time by the gay community itself, which is full of shallow monsters who lack the emotional complexity of an artist, and who hurt his feelings on purpose.
Maybe I can't properly empathize with these gay men because I found acceptance so quickly and so easily. By luck, I guess, with my friends and family, and with gay men because I'm good looking.
This week I've been reading My Diva: 65 Gay Men on the Women Who Inspire Them, an anthology edited by Michael Montlack. Most of these writers seem to define "diva" as a woman who gay men admire because she inspires feelings of strength and courage. Usually it's Judy Garland or Madonna, but this anthology includes a lot of unusual divas like Annie Lennox and Wonder Woman, which is cool.
But how many times can an anthology get away with publishing the same line that starts with something like: "As gay men, we have all faced discrimination, exile and soul-crushing loneliness..." It's not interesting, as self-pity tends not to be to anyone but the person experiencing it, but what really miffs me is how it claims to apply to all gay men. Some gay men didn't require the assistance of a strong female role model in coming out. That's okay too, isn't it? I can't help comparing the book to the kind of older gay man who pulls you aside at a nightclub and tells you how fortunate you are to have been born more recently than he was.
