Sans Fig Leaf
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"Passing"
5 June, 2003
I was staffing a table in the dealer's den of a convention, hawking the publications of the literary society of which I'm a founding member, when a young man approached the table almost furtively. He had a close-cropped blond crewcut, restless blue eyes, and wore a t-shirt emblazoned with the American flag. He started thumbing through one of our 'zines as he asked questions about what kind of stories we publish. I'd gotten less than halfway through my speil when he interjected a comment about the strange people one meets at "these kind" of conventions. Then he glanced around, as if afraid someone might overhear him, and proceeded to tell me that he was surprised at how many homosexuals seemed to be in evidence. He went on to talk about how unsettling it all was, though he had always been raised to live and let live, he was having a difficult time finding normal people to talk to.
Trying to be diplomatic, I said something like, "Well, what is normal? I wouldn't worry about it, besides, you can't always tell who does or doesn't fall into some categories."
"Oh, no," he said. "I can tell. That's why I was so happy to see a normal guy like you in here."
"Me? Ha!" I replied. I wasn't sure what else to say, because I was staffing the table and representing the entire organization, not just myself. Beside, I really don't think my sexual orientation, or the orientation of any other writers, has anything to do with whether their stories are worth reading.
As it happened, I didn't have to make any decision. Michael, who had been busy with other jobs at the same convention, came strolling up to the table and said, "Hi, honey! How's business doing?"
The poor crewcut guy looked stunned. As I answered Michael's question, the guy sat the zine he had been browsing down, and quietly slipped away.
I often wonder why so many people just assume I'm straight--particularly since a large number of people I went to school with all assumed I wasn't. I don't go to any effort to pass myself off as straight. I don't particularly feel either butch or femme. I've taken some of those tests to measure your masculinity vs. feminity and on every test I come out at a completely different spot on the spectrum from the previous test. I've had gay men tell me that I'm a flaming queen visible from miles away. I've had others laugh at the thought that anyone would describe me that way.
I know what it comes down to is which non-verbal cues and behaviors each observer tends to focus on. I'm just not completely certain which of my habits, mannerism, and characteristics evoke which conclusion.
As a species, we seem to be hardwired to classify everything. Some of classifications are quite useful. If you can recognize the signs of another person's anger, you may be able to avoid a painful situation. Other classifications aren't so useful. For example, why is it that I can clearly remember this guy's hairstyle and his t-shirt, but can't remember the name that was plainly visible on his convention badge? I understand perfectly why I remember his eyes and his facial expression and even his tone of voice. But what did his hairstyle or t-shirt have to do with anything? I probably took note of them because they are traits often associated with a certain sort of knee-jerk conservatism. Given his comments, I wouldn't be surprised if he did actually espouse some of those opinions I associate with that sort of conservatism.
Except that I've known several people with completely different political and cultural beliefs who like to wear their hair in a crewcut. Or just find it convenient for some reason. Many of them are just as likely to wear a patriotic t-shirt as not.
Just as he was wrong in concluding, for whatever reason, that I was straight, I could be wrong about why he said what he said. You see, the next day he returned to the table and bought a few back issues. Though I tried to be friendly in a non-threatening way, he didn't want to hang around and chat. I don't know if he was uncomfortable talking to me because now he perceived me as a gay man, or if he was embarassed about what he had said the day before.
Why did he decide to come back and buy some of our back issues? Did he have friends who were faithful readers who urged him to give them a try? Did he see enough during his brief visit to the table to realize we printed a kind of science fiction he liked? I don't know.
I can't be sure that his comments on the previous day indicated a distaste for gay people, or simply embarassment at his own reaction. I can recall many times when I've caught myself having a racist or sexist thought--just reverting to that old childhood programming--and then I got disgusted at myself when I realized I was reacting like a bigot. I can easily see someone being in that situation, compounded by being in an unfamiliar setting, saying things like he said, and then regretting them afterward.
We're all just passing through this life. There's too much joy to be experienced, too much work to be done, too many friends to hug, too many evils to conquer, to waste time worrying about what other people think of us.