Where do I start?
When I was a young boy, I was drawn to certain things like a moth to a flame. My big three passions were classical music, figure skating and growing flowers. As Rufus Wainwright would say, "Pretty things." I know that's about as stereotypically gay as one can get but there it was, long before I had any concept of human sexuality, much less my future homosexuality.
I came out in 1969 at the age of 19, shortly after Stonewall but severely nudged by the Vietnam War and a draft notice. I don't speak for the gay community. I can only speak from my own experience and perspective. At the time I began the process of coming out, I didn't know another soul who was openly gay. If there was any angst I felt during adolescence before coming out, it grew from that isolation. Stonewall was widely publicized and shocking to society. Queers fight back. How I loved it. Positively exhilarating. Stonewall gave me a calmness, a serenity, a huge sense of hopefulness and an inner power of conviction to say out loud, "F*ck you, I know I'm right. You're wrong," to whoever voiced opposition, obstacle or disgust. I had shed the shame.
Here's where I become a bit perplexed with modern times. It's popular these days to hear gay men express the idea that their sexual orientation is but a small portion of their being. Except for that one thing, they are quite like other men. That may well be true for some but it was never the case for me. I am quite different from heterosexual men and being attracted to men is only a small part of what makes me different. Of course, I fully endorse and have long fought for our quest for equal rights -- to marry, to serve openly in the military, to have every right -- but on the other hand, I have no desire to emulate heterosexual men. It isn't who I am.
Stonewall. Before and After. It was easy to feel when I came out (and so closely tied to Stonewall) that the world had shifted overnight. Everyone in the gay world before that date was as miserable and alone as I was and everything after that date was quite wonderful. Okay, things were less than perfect, especially legally, but we were already working on that and we believed we would get there eventually. The most important parts for me were finding a way to connect, a way to be happy and an end to the despondency that things would never get better.
Of course, I realized later I was wrong. The world had not shifted; I had shifted. Gay people, at least some of us, had always found a way to connect. It wasn't all miserable and dreary before Stonewall, simply unseen. That's what I learned from my elders. I laughed out loud at Kyril's review of the Chaz Bono documentary, "I hated it!" because that would have summed up my review of Brokeback Mountain. It just didn't ring true to me. Find love and give it up? Who are these people? I don't know them. Oh, gawd, here we go again, gay people as victims. This is where we may again differ in opinion. Gay people have been victimized, I won't ever deny it. The death of Tyler Clementi brought me to my knees, took me down, the overwhelming sadness and unnecessary loss of life and talent. So misery didn't end with Stonewall for everyone either.
But I don't want to be known only as a victim. I know my people. We're ingenious, resourceful and persevering. And if this steps on toes, so be it, we are abundantly talented and hugely creative. We have pluck! I want straight society to embrace us because we're wonderful and any society should be damn proud to have us and our contributions. If you think I'm making shit up, well, gawd knows we've had enough shit made up about us. So bring on the good shit because we have plenty!
That was supposed to be a short introduction, not a rant, but it does expose my mindset. As the story unfolds below the squiggle, you will see I wasn't the only young queerling drawn to classical music.
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