RSR Op-Ed: My Sexuality Is Not a Punchline…

By Matt Baker

The war in Ukraine along with all the horrific visuals it brings to social media was something I was prepared for this week, or at least as prepared as anyone can be in these times. What I wasn’t prepared for, was my reaction to some of the political satire being shared in opposition to Putin’s unconscionable invasion of a neighboring state. Putin in drag makeup. Putin leading Trump around by a leash in BDSM gear. Putin and Tucker Carlson shirtless on horseback.

The final straw came when a comedian I follow and admire posted a very simple video of Trump speaking positively of Putin and his actions, the comedian adding his own commentary that “Trump sucks Putin’s dick…” I don’t know why I chose this moment to finally voice my pain at this type of comedy, but I knew nobody else was going to be my voice and nothing was going to change otherwise. As tenderly and cautiously as I could, fearing being labeled prudish or “too sensitive”, I informed him that his post teetered “…a bit on the homophobic side for me.” While I was justifiably nervous, I received a very positive reaction, and even an invitation to discuss this further. We talked about why this seemed innocuous, even though it was not, and how I believed he truly wanted to be a good ally. We also discussed how his comment had an underlying connotation to it, whether he intended for that or not.

That brings me to what I wanted to discuss in this piece. Homosexuality is the butt of a lot of jokes, and nobody seems to even notice. While there has been a decrease in the use of the phrase “that’s so gay” and variations of the same, the flavor of this joke is alive and well. “Cocksucker”, “Trump sucks Putin’s dick”, photoshopping two men in a romantic/intimate setting so we can collectively laugh at them. All of this has a very simple and central theme. Homosexuality and people who identify as homosexual are less than everyone else, and worthy of our collective ridicule and scorn.

Most of the time if you approach someone who makes these kinds of jokes, they’ll be the first one to tell you they didn’t mean it like THAT, and of course they’re an ally to the LGBTQ+ community. For the most part, I believe their intent, but I disagree that it wasn’t what they meant when they made the joke. You literally portrayed someone as homosexual to advance the idea that they are beneath you, that they are worthy of being mocked. Given all the jokes being made at Putin’s expense, I ask you how often you’ve seen Laura Ingraham or Jeannine Pirro put into compromising positions with him to be made fun of? While it’s not impossible, that would cross an invisible line where you call a woman a slut, and nobody wants to suffer that kind of backlash. That said, it’s 2022. Regardless of same sex or opposite sex relationships, is it really acceptable to bring an oppressed group down just to make the sex life of the oppressor, the punchline?

While a lot of people might instinctively come to the defense of opposite sex relationships, that kind of reaction doesn’t often apply to people like me. It doesn’t even occur to people that calling someone a “cocksucker” is somehow a microaggression towards homosexuals. And for our part, we don’t like to rock the boat with our allies and call out these slights. I spent most of my life being told I was being “too sensitive”, to just lighten up. Even after being told over 15 years ago by a mentor that maybe people should be more respectful of my sensitivity and that I’m “sensitive enough”, I still struggle to internalize that message. I’ve been more concerned with being perceived negatively, than to have the courage to stand up for my own pain, my own truth. It’s a product of the toxic masculinity that I’ve been instilled with, despite my best efforts.

I was fortunate in my discussion with this comedian in that he was receptive, respectful, listened and showed a genuine desire to be a better ally. After hearing about allyship discussion disasters around the Black Lives Matter movement, I am aware how these conversations can go very badly. People can turn it all around and make it about THEIR feelings, and what THEY believe. As a good friend taught me, allyship means I’m the captain, they’re the ship, and Homophobia is the water. The Human Rights Campaign (HRC) simply defines being an ally as “A term used to describe someone who is actively supportive of LGBTQ+ people. It encompasses straight and cisgender allies, as well as those within the LGBTQ+ community who support each other (e.g., a lesbian who is an ally to the bisexual community).” I am the one to determine if I am being supported, not the ally. It means I must be the one to set the boundaries, the price of membership as my ally.

So let me detail a few things that are important to me as a member of this community. My pronouns are he/him, which means even if I’m attracted to men, it in no way means I am “one of the girls”. Our community is a vibrant spectrum of people and it’s no accident our symbol is the rainbow. That means, even if you know another gay person who likes XYZ, don’t expect me to fall in line and like it as well. Our personalities range from the flamboyant to the stereotypical masculine, and every single gradient in between, each deserving of love and respect, and treated with the dignity that they deserve. Do not expect me to be just like your bestie who is also gay. Instead, find out for yourself what my personality is like, and then respect it for what it is. You should never expect anything less from me in return.

Additionally, it is critical in allyship that you come with an open heart, open ears, and sometimes with your mouth closed because nobody can really listen when they’re busy talking. I don’t expect an ally to already know everything, I expect them to ask questions and listen to the answer. And given what I said previously about the broad diversity of this community, I’ll be the first to tell you I don’t know everything there is about everyone under the LGBTQ+ umbrella. Believe it or not, I am an ally to others even in my own community, whether they be lesbian, bi, trans, pan or asexual (or any other member I am inadvertently omitting). I don’t necessarily know their difficulties, their life, their pain, and that means I need to listen and learn what they need from me as an ally.

The reason I’m even writing this piece is because I took the time to write a 10-tweet thread on how I was feeling and the pain these jokes inflict on me. Even after having addressed and discussed the matter with one person, that pain is still very real and raw. Brad Berkwitt saw my thread and offered me an opportunity to voice my opinion on his site, which allows me to be a little more thorough in articulating how I feel right now. Even still, there’s so much more to say. This shouldn’t be seen as a nice tidy conclusion to this episode of my life but a starting point to a bigger discussion and movement towards better allyship and ultimately equality in perception.

I’d like to close with some very simple pieces of advice, that I hope you as the reader can walk away after reading this and incorporate into your life going forward. The next time you want to make a joke about two guys being intimate, even though you know for certain they are heterosexual, stop and consider how this further promotes the notion that being gay is beneath you and not worth your respect. If you can confidently continue to make such jokes, knowing full well the pain this causes, you might want to really reflect on my next bit of advice.

Do you consider yourself an ally to the LGBTQ+ community? If so, have you ever stopped and had a discussion with someone you’re an ally to, to ask them what they need and how they feel? Take some time, offer to sit down, and listen. Don’t make it about you, make it about them. Ask them what makes their life less pleasant as someone in the LGBTQ+ community. Maybe you already are doing everything you can, but maybe there is something you didn’t know that could be of use in your allyship.

If you don’t consider yourself an ally, ask yourself why do you think that is? If your answer is religion, you don’t need to convert someone just to be their ally. All the major religions I can think of promote kindness and empathy to your fellow humans. If your answer is that you don’t know how, there’s a very simple solution. See the previous paragraph and go from there. Finally, and I cannot stress this enough, please refrain from explaining how you like to view people without labels. I don’t define my entire existence by my sexuality. I’m a gamer, a cook, a singer, a pianist, a data geek and so much more. But telling me you’d like to erase/ignore any part of me is unacceptable, no matter how good the intention. If after reading this, you’d like to explain to me how I’m wrong, I’d like to refer you back to the part where I explained that I get to define who is my ally and what is required of that role.

Between the Don’t Say Gay bill in FL, the criminalization of trans youth in TX, and the countless other bills being debated across the country to further harm and jeopardize our community we are in desperate need of support. So desperate, in fact, that we are sabotaging that very support by allowing others to dictate what supporting us means. This is me making a very naked and emotional plea to be a part of the solution we need. I’m fortunate in that somehow, I found not only the courage to express my feelings, but a platform in which to do it. Plenty more out there don’t have that fortune or luxury, but are just as much in need of help, if not more. Right now, our country is not better than this culture that encourages our ridicule and hate. But with work, communication, and coordination, it can be.