http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
This is a very early poem that I published for the first time (anywhere) on the blog in 2009 after rediscovering and slightly revising the handwritten original. It was written during my teenage years while I was still at school, at a time when gay relationships here in the UK were illegal so I had to keep the secret and satisfy my awakening sexuality wherever and with whomsoever I could.
It was tough, yes, even traumatic. Yet, I managed to have some good times in that damn closet. Even so, any pleasure was always undermined by guilt. Those years left an emotional scar I have carried with me all my life. No young person deserves that. Those who continue to call for the persecution of gay men and women are a disgrace to humanity.
By the way, in those long-ago days, 'Queer' was a term of abuse. Although it appears to have become acceptable now, it is not a word with which I will ever feel comfortable.
Young people today should not have to go through what I had to endure all those years ago. Having to lie to my parents about where I was going and whom I was seeing put more pressure on me than any teenager should have to bear. There was no one I with whom could discuss my awakening sexuality. On the one hand, I felt ashamed because the law said I was a criminal while, on the other hand, I saw no reason why I should be stigmatised for my sexuality.
I did not choose to be gay; it is simply the way I am. No one deserves to be stigmatised for being born as nature intended. Sexuality has to be in the genes; there is no other explanation for gay men and women worldwide from such a wide variety of home backgrounds.
Being openly gay gives me a feeling of release and freedom, I'd have given anything for when I was a tormented teenager and young man. Parents and bigots world-wide, please take note!
This is an autobiographical poem, hence the reference to the appalling relationship I had with my father. Mention of the 'cottage' circuit refers to the way gay boys and men used to haunt rarely used/ abandoned/ off the beaten track public toilets for sex. [It was a secret 'community' of sorts and less sordid than it sounds, but we had no choice in those days.]
A QUEER THING
I am tired so of telling lies,
weary of waking up every day;
it’s bad enough having to face
going to school without having
to handle this queer thing
I am so tired of telling lies,
weary of waking up every day;
it’s bad enough having to cope
with my dad without having
to handle this queer thing
Why can’t I just tell everyone
I don’t like girls in the same way
boys are supposed to feel
and how there’s a boy in my class
with blue eyes and sandy hair
whom I’d so love to hold and kiss
but, of course, will never dare
'cause I’d be taken for a criminal?
I am so tired of telling lies,
weary of waking up every day,
blaming buses for being late
home from school after cruising
the cottage circuit
I am so tired of telling lies,
weary of waking up each day,
longing for Saturday night
when I can trawl smelly loos
and get some sex
The other night, I met a man
who took me to his house and bed
and taught me not to be afraid,
feel shame or guilt for what we did
though he could not see me again
and I mustn’t reveal our liaison
because he, too, was running away
from convention, a married man
I am so tired of telling lies,
playing a part (a good actor, me)
trying to behave naturally
while nature reaching, crying
for this queer thing
May a time come soon, I pray
I’ll wake up every day, not having
to lie about where I go, what I do
or who I am, no one minding
about this queer thing
Copyright R. N. Taber 1962; 2009
This is a very early poem that I published for the first time (anywhere) on the blog in 2009 after rediscovering and slightly revising the handwritten original. It was written during my teenage years while I was still at school, at a time when gay relationships here in the UK were illegal so I had to keep the secret and satisfy my awakening sexuality wherever and with whomsoever I could.
It was tough, yes, even traumatic. Yet, I managed to have some good times in that damn closet. Even so, any pleasure was always undermined by guilt. Those years left an emotional scar I have carried with me all my life. No young person deserves that. Those who continue to call for the persecution of gay men and women are a disgrace to humanity.
By the way, in those long-ago days, 'Queer' was a term of abuse. Although it appears to have become acceptable now, it is not a word with which I will ever feel comfortable.
Young people today should not have to go through what I had to endure all those years ago. Having to lie to my parents about where I was going and whom I was seeing put more pressure on me than any teenager should have to bear. There was no one I with whom could discuss my awakening sexuality. On the one hand, I felt ashamed because the law said I was a criminal while, on the other hand, I saw no reason why I should be stigmatised for my sexuality.
I did not choose to be gay; it is simply the way I am. No one deserves to be stigmatised for being born as nature intended. Sexuality has to be in the genes; there is no other explanation for gay men and women worldwide from such a wide variety of home backgrounds.
Being openly gay gives me a feeling of release and freedom, I'd have given anything for when I was a tormented teenager and young man. Parents and bigots world-wide, please take note!
This is an autobiographical poem, hence the reference to the appalling relationship I had with my father. Mention of the 'cottage' circuit refers to the way gay boys and men used to haunt rarely used/ abandoned/ off the beaten track public toilets for sex. [It was a secret 'community' of sorts and less sordid than it sounds, but we had no choice in those days.]
A QUEER THING
I am tired so of telling lies,
weary of waking up every day;
it’s bad enough having to face
going to school without having
to handle this queer thing
I am so tired of telling lies,
weary of waking up every day;
it’s bad enough having to cope
with my dad without having
to handle this queer thing
Why can’t I just tell everyone
I don’t like girls in the same way
boys are supposed to feel
and how there’s a boy in my class
with blue eyes and sandy hair
whom I’d so love to hold and kiss
but, of course, will never dare
'cause I’d be taken for a criminal?
I am so tired of telling lies,
weary of waking up every day,
blaming buses for being late
home from school after cruising
the cottage circuit
I am so tired of telling lies,
weary of waking up each day,
longing for Saturday night
when I can trawl smelly loos
and get some sex
The other night, I met a man
who took me to his house and bed
and taught me not to be afraid,
feel shame or guilt for what we did
though he could not see me again
and I mustn’t reveal our liaison
because he, too, was running away
from convention, a married man
I am so tired of telling lies,
playing a part (a good actor, me)
trying to behave naturally
while nature reaching, crying
for this queer thing
May a time come soon, I pray
I’ll wake up every day, not having
to lie about where I go, what I do
or who I am, no one minding
about this queer thing
Copyright R. N. Taber 1962; 2009
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