Rolling Out
Colin Phillips is your typical queer guy, except he's also disabled. His blog will explore how his queer experience is and is not influenced by his disability. He will also challenge your attitudes toward disability and the ideal body. When he's not blogging, Colin is a social worker and policy analyst.
Cruising online? It can be slim pickings.
Hey y’all! It’s great to be able to blog again, and don’t worry; I’ll be sure to post Part Two of my coming out story in a few days. First though, I need to rant.
If you live in downtown Toronto, you will know that we just had a provincial by-election. I’ve been careful not to name my political affiliation here on GGT because I have other forums for that work and didn’t want to “go there”. The truth is though that I’m a New Democrat and, dare I say, a respected one at that. I chair one of the Party’s election planning committees, which means that the by-election was pretty much all I did for six weeks.
Planning a socialist uprising is hard work and doesn’t lend itself to going to the village and hopefully picking up. It doesn’t stop this gay boy from wanting some attention though. Enter cruising the internet. Now, I do cruise online a fair bit; especially in the winter when I can’t be bothered going out in the cold. The by-election just drove me to the keyboard even more. The frustrating thing is I didn’t meet anyone and I couldn’t help but wonder if cruising online is dead.
There are obviously thousands of guys in the city who meet each other online. The problem is that I’m finding more and more of them are “masculine”, “straight acting” (unpacking the internalized homophobia in that lovely gem of a term should be a PhD dissertation), “non-scene” types. In other words, boring and not the least bit attractive to me. Even for a roll in the hay, I want there to be some chemistry and maybe a hope for something deeper developing. Some of you might be thinking that I’m being too picky; that I should realize that cruising sites probably won’t lead to brilliant sex, never mind a match made in heaven. I’ve been with a few of these “straight acting” boys though and there is just nothing there. No passion. No sense of enjoying the queerness of having sex with another man. And, quite honestly, none of the tenderness I’ve even experienced after meeting someone in a club. Nothing!
Another by-election is over, and I have recovered from an exhaustion induced flu. It’s time to get back out there and find myself a nice queer and proud boy. To hell with the internet. Well, besides the pictures.
December is an anniversary for me; I’ve been out for eight years now. It’s funny that I’ve never talked about my coming out experience here. Now seems like a perfect time to reminisce.
My disability did have a major impact on how long it took me to realize what exactly was going on. I don’t know how common this is, but I wasn’t sexually attracted to men for the first year or so. I didn’t have crushes on boys, didn’t want to date anyone, and didn’t explicitly fantasize about gay sex (more on that later). My burning desire was to see the guys at high school naked. So, I was seeing a social worker about this and our thinking was that other boys showered together after gym class and sports and were able to see how they measured up. I obviously couldn’t do that and was feeling left out.
That theory held up until I met him. I won’t give too many details because we’ve been friends ever since but I have never told him just how much of an impact he had on that confused teenager. I met him at a weekend away and we got along well; so well that he told me about his boyfriend. I didn’t think much about it, though I did want to see him naked. I was watching TV a few days later when I started thinking about him and being with him. I fantasized about him the next night and it was both the most liberating and the most sensual experiences I’ve had. I don’t mind telling you that I still remember the feeling of the organism. The clarity and intensity of the fantasy blew me away; it was like nothing I had experienced before. It hit me right then; I was gay.
To be continued….
FOR OUR SISTERS:
Geneviève Bergeron,
Hélène Colgan,
Nathalie Croteau,
Barbara Daigneault,
Anne-Marie Edward,
Maud Haviernick,
Maryse Laganière,
Maryse Leclair,
Anne-Marie Lemay,
Sonia Pelletier,
Mchèle Richard,
Annie St-Arneault,
Annie Turcotte,
Barbara Klucznik-Widajewicz
Died; December 6, 1989
Montreal, Quebec
A warning: This post plays into stereotypes of both gay and straight men. I really don’t care.
I remember watching the news last Sunday night, when a picture of murder victim Christopher Skinner came on the screen, and thinking “he was gay”. Sure enough, I woke up to media reports about a gay man being beaten and run over by a SUV. His friends and family immediately questioned whether this was a hate crime. I am never one to jump to conclusions, so I was skeptical. That was before the family released more pictures. That was before we learned that he lived with his fiancé and their dog, Lucy. That was before the prime suspect was described as wearing a black undershirt and having a “military style haircut”. There’s little doubt in my mind now; if this incident didn’t start as a hate crime (it probably did), the driver knew he was killing a queer man.
Chris’ funeral was Thursday. According to the Star, his sister spoke of all of the silliness the two of them got up to and his friend said that he was the life of the party. To be clear, I never met Chris. Two images come to mind though; him and his sister dancing around the living room, and a guy who couldn’t go ten minutes on Pride Sunday without being hugged. All of the pictures of Chris show an attractive, well dressed, well groomed man: a gay man. This wasn’t a “masculine”, “straight acting” guy. This was an out-and-proud gay man. I know it, you know it, and his killers knew it. I can’t understand why the police aren’t naming what is obvious.
Like many of you, I am attending the vigil for Chris in the village tonight. I already know I will end up crying and have been reflecting on why over the weekend. After all, I’m a news junky; murders never affect me. The answer is painfully simple; I look at the pictures of Chris and I see my friend K.F.’s poise, D.S. calling himself princess, S.W.’s often changing hair colour. I see me. I don’t want to take away from Chris’ death and the hell his family is going through. The reality though is I’ve been reminded of how vulnerable we are all as gay men. My biggest hope is that Church Street is mobbed tonight. Together, we can say that homophobia is not tolerated in our city.
One of my heroes, Scottish poet Robert Burns, wrote:
Then let us pray that come it may
(as come it will for a’ that)
That Sense and Worth, o’er a’ the earth
Shall bear the gree an’ a’ that
For a’ that an’ a’ that
It’s coming yet for a’ that
That man to man, the world o’er
Shall brithers be for a’ that.
Let it be. Let it be.
Yesterday was an odd day for me. I didn’t go home to go to London for Thanksgiving because my parents are going to be here for a medical appointment tomorrow. The plan was to celebrate the holiday a day late and in a hospital cafeteria. Classy, eh? The plan changed on Wednesday afternoon, when I got word that my friend, Gary, had died in Waterloo. His funeral is tomorrow, in his hometown. I won’t see my biological family for the holiday, but I will reunite with my “Waterloo family” during dinner tonight and when some of us make the drive to the funeral.
Gary was one of my attendants in Waterloo; someone who helped me get dressed, eat, do the laundry, etc. I have a close relationship with all of my attendants. You can’t help but get close; they come to know everything from how you like your steak, to what kind of underwear you wear. Gary was different though; he was gay too, and like me, someone who was going to become a university professor. So, despite an almost twenty year age difference, we became very close. He was the only older, queer man I knew during my first few years as an openly gay man. He told me stories about the early queer scene in Kitchener and sat with me when I was heartbroken.
Yesterday was also International Coming Out Day and I was reflecting on how Gary impacted my queer identity. So, there I was last night with my single lamb chop; a bit lonely, yet with a great feeling of being surrounded by people who I love, sad that we lost a friend far too soon, yet rejoicing in all that he was. I guess I was reminded of life’s paradoxes last night and was thankful for it.
I was arrested this week and charged with sexual assault, all because of a stupid night. I decided to go to a club and see if I could pick someone up; I hadn’t had sex all summer and I just needed to shag. I met Robert at the bar. He was pretty drunk (so was I), but I could see that he had a great chest and God, I wanted him! An hour later, he was lifting me out of my wheelchair, into bed, and taking my pants off. He said that he didn’t want me to wear a condom and I agreed. Why the fuck was I such an idiot? (more…)
If you picked up the last issue of Xtra, you may have read the delicious Michael Pihach’s editorial about the ongoing closure of Crews and Tango. Michael explains that he couldn’t find out why the bar closed, let alone who actually owns it. It turns out that rumours that the old house will be torn down to make way for condos are unfounded; the lot isn’t big enough. So, Michael says, it’s time for the owner to speak up and explain what’s happening.
I never went to Crews and Tango. The stairs at the front door kind of got in the way. (more…)
I had my mum staying with me for a week recently, because my dad had to come to the city for surgery. Now, my parents live in London; a city that prides itself on its medical community. So, you can imagine how serious Dad’s operation was if he had to have it done here. I thought Mum and I would be pretty stressed by week’s end and that we would deserve a night on the town. Of course, Church Street is one of my favourite neighbourhoods. It was only natural that Mum and I would hit the village. (more…)
If you have been around GGT lately, you’ll know that we are sponsoring the Canadian premier of the musical BARE, by WaterEdge Productions and being staged at Hart House Theatre. I attended the opening night on Friday and was thoroughly impressed with the depth of the plot and the caliber of the cast. (more…)
It’s Pride week in Toronto! No, seriously, it is. July 13-17th has been declared MAD! Pride in the city. MAD! Pride is a festival organized by people with psychiatric disabilities, consumers of mental health services, and their supporters. Its goals are to celebrate mad culture, empower the community, and draw attention to the stigma associated with mental health issue. (more…)
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