There is no alternative for gay males in the mass media. According to the “opiate of the masses,” (television) we are super skinny or we are Adonis clones. We listen to Divas and shop at chic stores. We have the wit of Tennessee Williams, and we’re culture vultures that other men and women need to imitate. We club every night, cruise every weekend, and show up protesting when our rights are being tampered with. As I watch television shows like Queer Eye for the Straight Guy and Will & Grace, I can’t help but shake my head at the messages they are sending to people across the nation: Everyone thinks I am just like these men. For entertainment purposes, let’s take a look at my “normal” attire:

Jacket: Brown with red and yellow stripes — color clash is a major violation from the fashion police.

Shirt: Blue- and white-striped Kroger bagger shirt — Kroger is not a designer label.

Pants: Light brown with a dark brown stripe in the middle — They look like something a mailman would wear back in the 1980s.

Socks — Multicolored — Wrong.

Shoes — Vans Skateboard Brand Tennis Shoes – Gay men don’t wear tennis shoes unless they are actually going to play tennis. Gay guys don’t skate either.

Shop at chic malls? According to my choice of apparel, I’ll take Salvation Army over Diesel anytime. To break some other myths of stereotypical gay men, I have the wit of a soap dish. Sure, I can be funny, but wit wasn’t a trait I acquired. I don’t do clubs either. I have an aversion to techno music and dancing. I prefer staying at home and reading a good book on left-wing politics. Cruise every weekend? I’ve been single for four years and my boyfriend back then dumped me because I wouldn’t “put out.” As far as I am concerned, I’m probably celibate. Sex just seems to irk me right now. On the topic of protesting, I don’t mind doing my part on Internet forums, but frankly I don’t feel like waving a poster and screaming at the opposition. If it doesn’t look like I’ve received an invitation for absolute ostracization from the gay community, I don’t know how I can make it any clearer.

My body is no better in the grand scheme of things. For one thing, I’m black, and affirmative action doesn’t exist in the gay community. When I go on personals sites like XY (for gay youth) or PlanetOut, black models are an endangered species if it exists at all anymore. I’ll go out on a limb here and say if you’re not white, no need to apply. The reason I say that is because most profiles contain this message:

Latino may be added, but that is a rarity. Black men are never a sought out for companionship, or at least tolerated. The reason is because of the images the media feeds the nation. For instance, big butts are all the rage these days because J. Lo is incessantly being shoved into our eye-sockets. Getting an Asian girl is “hip” because Lucy Liu is the hottest lady in Hollywood. Can you name a black actor who plays a gay male, besides the guy from HBO’s Six Feet Under? I don’t think you can, and neither can I. A lot of people don’t realize that mass media influence exists in the gay community; we’re not the “open minds” kind of people that are portrayed during nationally televised protests. We are just like everybody else. Sometimes I feel the color of my skin has been the main factor for why I am the knight of unrequited interest. On more occasions than I can remember, I’ve had many great discussions with people online chatting for the first time. When they ask for my picture and I send it, the chatting ceases to continue. Five years ago when I first came out in eighth grade, I wanted to be white just because I thought it would make it easier being gay and finding love, which my mother in reply lectured me against. “Someone should love me for who I am and not the color of my skin.” Sure, that may be morally sound, but in the real world, it’s still difficult to take that in consideration, especially when it seems like the world doesn’t want you for a life partner.

The models of XY and PlanetOut, among other websites that cater to the gay community, not only display one race of people exclusively but also a body type: Extremely skinny and attractive. With these “flawless” clones that pop on my computer screen daily, these sites set a standard that each visitor is measured by. While Heterosexual America has very few icons with girth to stand idly by like famed former Playmate of the Year Anna Nicole, Gay America (for males) has none. With shows like Queer as Folk, Will & Grace, and Boy Meets Boy, it seems that the gay media stigmatizes anyone beyond a 34-inch waist. Each and every main character of these television shows differs very little when it comes to body type. Very much like race, a narrow-mind is installed into our brains:

The major concern for women during Third Wave feminism is battling body issues presented to us by America’s pop culture. However, with the increasing popularity in “metrosexuals” and the new mainstream limelight for gays, men are facing them more than ever before, and not just athletes as it was in the past. Gay men, in my opinion, are having a tougher time trying to meet the needs of their future boyfriends. There are masculine and feminine traits in both men and women alike despite sexuality, but in the stereotypical images of gay males, there are two traits and a specified body type for each. If you are a masculine gay male (others dare to label “straight-acting”), then you must don the body of a cover-man for Flex Magazine. If you are a feminine gay male, you have to wear 28-inch pants and be blessed with a boyish/androgynous face. With these unreachable (and unnecessary) extremes, what are all of us that fall in-between supposed to do? Why are we pigeonholed into such absurd restrictions? It’s bad enough realizing you are a gay person in a straight world, but it’s worse when the world can’t accept your love handles.

Throughout high school, I fought relentlessly to trash my identity because I knew no one would love me for what I looked like. A little overweight for my stunted height, I joined my wrestling team to help aid my cause of losing this little extra weight. After two years of running around the block and becoming an iron-loving gym bunny, it was pretty much done in vain. I got in much better shape and realized the importance of nutrition, but I was still without a boyfriend. With all of my attempts to become a card-carrying member of the gay community, I failed.

By the end of my senior year in high school, once my wrestling season ended, I decided to exhume my identity back and stop worrying about it. I came to the conclusion that for one, I shouldn’t be worrying about getting a life-partner at the time because I needed to obtain an education first; nobody likes a dummy anyway. Second, my mother’s advice came to revisit my conscience because Hollywood lied to me. Beauty and the absence of a belly don’t equate happiness. “Someone will love me for me and not my weight.”

Now that I am in college, my body weight is no longer a concern for me. Frankly, I don’t have the time for excessive burnouts in the gym and carb-Nazi Atkins diets because my European history papers are more significant to get done. I maintain my proper health, but I don’t put in the unnecessary effort to have the frame of a soccer jock because I just simply lack the motivation. For wrestling, I was at 135, and I now I sit at 154 pounds and more comfortable than ever. I suppose six-packs aren’t for everybody. Slowly but surely, I’m going through my withdrawal from the weight room from five days a week to two. I have just become exhausted at gaining muscle mass and now I just want to ride my bike for necessary exercise.

I feel more than blessed that I found the error of my ways much more quickly than my peers who let body issues take over most of their lives. Now in college I have goals and finding a guy isn’t a top priority as it was in the past. Sure, I have wishes to meet my waiting prince, but now I want to get my English and Japan Studies degrees. I want to go to Louisiana and learn Creole for graduate studies. I want to write columns about social and political issues for alternative magazines.

Instead of abandoning these gay websites, I decided to spread my ideals on the negative visual imagery these sites show to other members. Just as Third Wave feminists are fighting against mainstream body image, we gay men need to follow their example and do the same. We should be sending letters and emails to gay websites, protesting against these mainstream body images. We need to create awareness of what the typical gay culture is doing and challenge its standards.    

And somebody will love me; black, love handles, and all. Besides, we don’t call them love handles for nothing; your lover needs something to hold onto.

AirplaneRadio