...Hmm...No witty title for this one...
The trouble with “gay”
Why is “that’s so gay” synonymous with “bad”? One man tries to understand the phrase’s lingering stigma, with the help of obnoxious shoppers and annoying teenagers.
By John Caldwell
The heat from a built-in sauna filled the tiny men’s locker room with an unbearable thickness, aggravating the already tense atmosphere in this popular nighttime gathering spot. As I undressed, I felt a kind of nervous tension unknown to me since my early days in high school gym class, a sense of isolation from those around me.
On this evening, as on any other during the high season on the slopes of southern Vermont, a constant stream of boys, young men, and a few older men crowded together in front of rusted old lockers following a day of skiing or snowboarding. Here, at a local condo-association lodge, they capped off their rigorous activity by donning their swimsuits and diving into a heated indoor swimming pool, soaking in a Jacuzzi, or sweating in the cramped sauna. On their way in or out they engaged in typical locker room banter, spouting adolescent jokes with heavy doses of boy-like masculine anxiety. But unlike in the locker room at my high school those many years ago, there was no use of the word “faggot.” There was only the phrase “That’s so gay,” uttered by boys in much the same way one might use the words “That’s so gross” or “That’s so stupid” or “ugly” or “scary.”
One preteen named Jason, while struggling to slip out of his baggy swim trunks underneath a white towel securely fastened around his waist, literally yelled every word of a decidedly juvenile conversation he was having with a friend across the cedar-lined room. “Obnoxious” might have been the chosen adjective for this boy’s behavior by the mature men around him, but for any gay man such as myself, “menacing” was a lot more fitting.
“That’s so gay,” Jason said for the second time, lackadaisically tossing his towel toward an open hamper, missing his mark and adding to a pile building up on the slippery tile floor. He used the phrase in a trite manner describing something he saw another boy doing in the school yard the week before-and it was clear to me he probably wouldn’t understand why a gay man standing next to him in a public shower might find the phrase offensive or hurtful.
A couple of years ago, the phrase “That’s so gay” was the topic of widespread discussion among educators and civil servants attempting to address its rampant use by second- and third-grade students. In school yards across the nation, it had become an all-purpose put-down or condemnation for a lack of conformity, despite actual or perceived sexual orientation. Many asked, Do these children understand its knife-like effect and far-reaching implications the way school-yard bullies who use the word “faggot” do?
Bob Chase, president of the National Education Association, and leaders from the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network pointed out how commonplace the phrase had become, and much to the chagrin of many conservative parents who cited biblical passages, they took steps to address it. A number of very brave, openly gay students also published articles that expressed feelings of hurt engendered by the use of those words. But despite their efforts, it appears the phrase is still a popular put-down.
Personally, I have watched it spread from elementary school children into more widespread use, including by adults. In an age when youths and young adults are leading the charge toward the acceptance of openly gay people, they too appear to be perpetuating some antigay attitudes, further demonizing “gay” by using it as a negative marker for anything different. Undoubtedly, students who are openly gay-or perceived to be such-are still subject to targeted assaults based solely on sexual orientation. But it is the ambiguous nature of the phrase “That’s so gay,” even when used lightly, that threatens the tenuous acceptance of gayness as a social norm. Like the words “Negro” or “colored,” which once may have appeared progressive in a highly bigoted society, it has a stigmatizing effect.
About a year ago I was in Target shopping for hair gel and cat litter, two of that store’s specialties, when I heard a 30-something man next to me in the toiletry aisle turn to his girlfriend and loudly proclaim, “That’s so-o-o gay!” referring to some product on the shelf. Now, it could have been argued that this man wasn’t really a man at all, merely an arrested adolescent who would never know maturity. But the fact is, he was an adult, even if he lacked the capacity to act like one.
It hurt to hear him use that phrase. Even though I wasn’t sure he meant it to be antigay, he might as well have said, “Look at that faggot over there. He’d probably like this stupid thing!” I wanted to turn to him and ask, “Do you realize what you’re saying? I mean, look around you. There are gay people everywhere. We’re all over this store. We live in your neighborhood. One of us may have jump-started your car last week or given you directions when you were lost. Please tell me you don’t mean to imply that that thing on the shelf is ‘gay’ because ‘gay’ is ‘bad.’”
But I didn’t say those things. I quietly winced at the pang in my chest, turned my cart around, and moved on to the pharmaceuticals section as a soft female voice asked for register assistance over the loudspeaker. I didn’t say anything to Jason at the Vermont lodge either. But I wish I had before he turns into that grown-up caricature of himself I encountered at Target.
I realize it is up to me to let people know that what they are doing hurts to imply that “gay” is bad, or even less than normal, is unacceptable.
It’s who I am. And I am happy about it. My life as a gay man is just as important and fulfilling as any life, and it deserves to be treated as such, even in casual social settings. It takes courage to be the one who changes minds by pointing out why certain behaviors are wrong. This is what the many teachers and educators who are speaking out against bullying and denigrating remarks made toward GLBT youths have-courage. And it takes courage to be the one who hangs his or her feelings out there so that others can understand who they are and hopefully respect them for it.
I plan to join the ranks of those who possess that kind of courage the next time I hear the phrase “That’s so gay.”
Why is “that’s so gay” synonymous with “bad”? One man tries to understand the phrase’s lingering stigma, with the help of obnoxious shoppers and annoying teenagers.
By John Caldwell
The heat from a built-in sauna filled the tiny men’s locker room with an unbearable thickness, aggravating the already tense atmosphere in this popular nighttime gathering spot. As I undressed, I felt a kind of nervous tension unknown to me since my early days in high school gym class, a sense of isolation from those around me.
On this evening, as on any other during the high season on the slopes of southern Vermont, a constant stream of boys, young men, and a few older men crowded together in front of rusted old lockers following a day of skiing or snowboarding. Here, at a local condo-association lodge, they capped off their rigorous activity by donning their swimsuits and diving into a heated indoor swimming pool, soaking in a Jacuzzi, or sweating in the cramped sauna. On their way in or out they engaged in typical locker room banter, spouting adolescent jokes with heavy doses of boy-like masculine anxiety. But unlike in the locker room at my high school those many years ago, there was no use of the word “faggot.” There was only the phrase “That’s so gay,” uttered by boys in much the same way one might use the words “That’s so gross” or “That’s so stupid” or “ugly” or “scary.”
One preteen named Jason, while struggling to slip out of his baggy swim trunks underneath a white towel securely fastened around his waist, literally yelled every word of a decidedly juvenile conversation he was having with a friend across the cedar-lined room. “Obnoxious” might have been the chosen adjective for this boy’s behavior by the mature men around him, but for any gay man such as myself, “menacing” was a lot more fitting.
“That’s so gay,” Jason said for the second time, lackadaisically tossing his towel toward an open hamper, missing his mark and adding to a pile building up on the slippery tile floor. He used the phrase in a trite manner describing something he saw another boy doing in the school yard the week before-and it was clear to me he probably wouldn’t understand why a gay man standing next to him in a public shower might find the phrase offensive or hurtful.
A couple of years ago, the phrase “That’s so gay” was the topic of widespread discussion among educators and civil servants attempting to address its rampant use by second- and third-grade students. In school yards across the nation, it had become an all-purpose put-down or condemnation for a lack of conformity, despite actual or perceived sexual orientation. Many asked, Do these children understand its knife-like effect and far-reaching implications the way school-yard bullies who use the word “faggot” do?
Bob Chase, president of the National Education Association, and leaders from the Gay, Lesbian, and Straight Education Network pointed out how commonplace the phrase had become, and much to the chagrin of many conservative parents who cited biblical passages, they took steps to address it. A number of very brave, openly gay students also published articles that expressed feelings of hurt engendered by the use of those words. But despite their efforts, it appears the phrase is still a popular put-down.
Personally, I have watched it spread from elementary school children into more widespread use, including by adults. In an age when youths and young adults are leading the charge toward the acceptance of openly gay people, they too appear to be perpetuating some antigay attitudes, further demonizing “gay” by using it as a negative marker for anything different. Undoubtedly, students who are openly gay-or perceived to be such-are still subject to targeted assaults based solely on sexual orientation. But it is the ambiguous nature of the phrase “That’s so gay,” even when used lightly, that threatens the tenuous acceptance of gayness as a social norm. Like the words “Negro” or “colored,” which once may have appeared progressive in a highly bigoted society, it has a stigmatizing effect.
About a year ago I was in Target shopping for hair gel and cat litter, two of that store’s specialties, when I heard a 30-something man next to me in the toiletry aisle turn to his girlfriend and loudly proclaim, “That’s so-o-o gay!” referring to some product on the shelf. Now, it could have been argued that this man wasn’t really a man at all, merely an arrested adolescent who would never know maturity. But the fact is, he was an adult, even if he lacked the capacity to act like one.
It hurt to hear him use that phrase. Even though I wasn’t sure he meant it to be antigay, he might as well have said, “Look at that faggot over there. He’d probably like this stupid thing!” I wanted to turn to him and ask, “Do you realize what you’re saying? I mean, look around you. There are gay people everywhere. We’re all over this store. We live in your neighborhood. One of us may have jump-started your car last week or given you directions when you were lost. Please tell me you don’t mean to imply that that thing on the shelf is ‘gay’ because ‘gay’ is ‘bad.’”
But I didn’t say those things. I quietly winced at the pang in my chest, turned my cart around, and moved on to the pharmaceuticals section as a soft female voice asked for register assistance over the loudspeaker. I didn’t say anything to Jason at the Vermont lodge either. But I wish I had before he turns into that grown-up caricature of himself I encountered at Target.
I realize it is up to me to let people know that what they are doing hurts to imply that “gay” is bad, or even less than normal, is unacceptable.
It’s who I am. And I am happy about it. My life as a gay man is just as important and fulfilling as any life, and it deserves to be treated as such, even in casual social settings. It takes courage to be the one who changes minds by pointing out why certain behaviors are wrong. This is what the many teachers and educators who are speaking out against bullying and denigrating remarks made toward GLBT youths have-courage. And it takes courage to be the one who hangs his or her feelings out there so that others can understand who they are and hopefully respect them for it.
I plan to join the ranks of those who possess that kind of courage the next time I hear the phrase “That’s so gay.”