http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
As LGBT History Month 2011 here in the UK draws all but to a close, I am duplicating this post on both my general and gay-interest blogs today. After all, each and every one of us is, like it or not, part of a common humanity. Moreover, whatever our first language, the human spirit common to us all must get very confused sometimes by our multiple uses of the same words, not to mention disappointed by what often comes across as a pathetic dependence on and/or misuse of them; a good few people don’t seem to have cottoned on to the fact that the name of the game is meaningful communication, not hot air.
Furthermore, while it may be a cliché, it’s true that actions really do say more than words, bearing in mind of course that they include good, bad, and vomit-ugly. [For me, the latter description not only fills my mind with ghastly images of war, genocide, massacre, torture and the politically motivated killing of people around the world simply trying to exercise their human right to protest, but also violent street crime and bullying of any description on our very own doorsteps.]
Whatever...
Among language’s collection of weaponry (and armour) humour has to be one of my favourites. Like people, it comes in all shapes and forms; like the more formidable wordsmith, it addresses all kinds of people from all kinds of backgrounds. Sadly, it also encourages stereotyping. At the same time, its greater irony lies in an ability to make people laugh even while the more discerning (?) eye may well see nothing to laugh at. Ah, but perhaps the more discerning eye should take a nap now and then anyway while we let ourselves go with a flow of less demanding insights?
So...in spite of several readers implied criticism of my following fellow blogger Edwin Black’s audacious posts, I refer you to his blog again anyway at: http://bardicblackspot.blogspot.com/; it provides food for thought along with a healthy chuckle at life and ourselves.
Meanwhile...
It is so true (another cliché); it’s not what we say but the way we say it that counts. Even so, I have to say that I, personally, remain uncomfortable with expressions like ‘fag’ and ‘queer’ but that is probably a generation gap issue. (I was born in 1945 and grew up in a very homophobic society, one that necessitated my entering the proverbial closet when, at 14 years-old, I realised I am gay.)
When I was a youth and young man, there were so many cruel jibes and sick names hurled at homosexuals (including ‘queer’ and ‘fag’) that it was a huge relief when ‘gay’ came along. Now I read about gay men and women writing ‘Queer ‘poetry and talking about the ‘Queer Community’ and though I have to live with that, it will always make my stomach heave.
I can understand homosexuals in eastern countries preferring ‘queer’ to ‘gay’ as many there see ‘gay’ as already hijacked by westerners. Here in the West, though, I see it as tantamount to a betrayal of our early history. As for ‘fag’ the very sound of the word oozes contempt, but as I don’t live in the USA I guess it doesn’t really matter as I rarely hear it used here except by visiting homophobes. Yet, if gay Americans are okay with it, who am I to find fault?
Yes, I dare say my sentiments do express a minority point of view among gay men and women in the West. [Do I care?]
I suspect it may well be confusing for even the gay-friendly among the heterosexual majority when the language of G-A-Y appears to run the entire gamut of A-Z.
Ah, but as they say in the North of England, 'There's nowt as queer as folk!"
GAY’S THE WORD
On vacation in New York
they called me a fag
and I shrivelled up inside;
on the streets of Brixton
someone yelled, “He’s queer!”
(Just like my dad);
guys in a bar cried, “homo!”
because I walked in
wearing a ribbon with pride;
women at work
got lewd, something about
wasted manhood
I felt a clammy mist closing
in on me, unsure
what to do...till someone said,
“Hey, you’re gay, yeah?
Me too.” and his warm grin
let the sun back in...
Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2011
[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]
As LGBT History Month 2011 here in the UK draws all but to a close, I am duplicating this post on both my general and gay-interest blogs today. After all, each and every one of us is, like it or not, part of a common humanity. Moreover, whatever our first language, the human spirit common to us all must get very confused sometimes by our multiple uses of the same words, not to mention disappointed by what often comes across as a pathetic dependence on and/or misuse of them; a good few people don’t seem to have cottoned on to the fact that the name of the game is meaningful communication, not hot air.
Furthermore, while it may be a cliché, it’s true that actions really do say more than words, bearing in mind of course that they include good, bad, and vomit-ugly. [For me, the latter description not only fills my mind with ghastly images of war, genocide, massacre, torture and the politically motivated killing of people around the world simply trying to exercise their human right to protest, but also violent street crime and bullying of any description on our very own doorsteps.]
Whatever...
Among language’s collection of weaponry (and armour) humour has to be one of my favourites. Like people, it comes in all shapes and forms; like the more formidable wordsmith, it addresses all kinds of people from all kinds of backgrounds. Sadly, it also encourages stereotyping. At the same time, its greater irony lies in an ability to make people laugh even while the more discerning (?) eye may well see nothing to laugh at. Ah, but perhaps the more discerning eye should take a nap now and then anyway while we let ourselves go with a flow of less demanding insights?
So...in spite of several readers implied criticism of my following fellow blogger Edwin Black’s audacious posts, I refer you to his blog again anyway at: http://bardicblackspot.blogspot.com/; it provides food for thought along with a healthy chuckle at life and ourselves.
Meanwhile...
It is so true (another cliché); it’s not what we say but the way we say it that counts. Even so, I have to say that I, personally, remain uncomfortable with expressions like ‘fag’ and ‘queer’ but that is probably a generation gap issue. (I was born in 1945 and grew up in a very homophobic society, one that necessitated my entering the proverbial closet when, at 14 years-old, I realised I am gay.)
When I was a youth and young man, there were so many cruel jibes and sick names hurled at homosexuals (including ‘queer’ and ‘fag’) that it was a huge relief when ‘gay’ came along. Now I read about gay men and women writing ‘Queer ‘poetry and talking about the ‘Queer Community’ and though I have to live with that, it will always make my stomach heave.
I can understand homosexuals in eastern countries preferring ‘queer’ to ‘gay’ as many there see ‘gay’ as already hijacked by westerners. Here in the West, though, I see it as tantamount to a betrayal of our early history. As for ‘fag’ the very sound of the word oozes contempt, but as I don’t live in the USA I guess it doesn’t really matter as I rarely hear it used here except by visiting homophobes. Yet, if gay Americans are okay with it, who am I to find fault?
Yes, I dare say my sentiments do express a minority point of view among gay men and women in the West. [Do I care?]
I suspect it may well be confusing for even the gay-friendly among the heterosexual majority when the language of G-A-Y appears to run the entire gamut of A-Z.
Ah, but as they say in the North of England, 'There's nowt as queer as folk!"
GAY’S THE WORD
On vacation in New York
they called me a fag
and I shrivelled up inside;
on the streets of Brixton
someone yelled, “He’s queer!”
(Just like my dad);
guys in a bar cried, “homo!”
because I walked in
wearing a ribbon with pride;
women at work
got lewd, something about
wasted manhood
I felt a clammy mist closing
in on me, unsure
what to do...till someone said,
“Hey, you’re gay, yeah?
Me too.” and his warm grin
let the sun back in...
Copyright R. N. Taber 2002; 2011
[Note: An earlier version of this poem appears in First Person Plural by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2002.]
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