http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/R._N._Taber
I once watched with some jealousy as a local youth proudly introduced his new girlfriend to some mates. Yes, I was a shade jealous of their youth, but I was also remembering my own first love all those years ago, someone I could not introduce to my friends because we were gay. In those days, I used to play safe which invariably meant keeping head down and mouth shut if only for a quiet life. It would be some (too many) years before I'd take a long, hard, look at that quiet life, see it for the prison it was, and break out.
In the western world, being gay is a lot easier now than it was for me then, but rarely easy; much depends on whether we are fortunate enough to live in a gay-friendly environment which, in turn, may well depend on race, culture, religion or whatever other dogmatic mind-body-spirit we may have been raised to think is 'right' or 'normal' (but for whom?) Oh, we may have political correctness and Gay Rights here in the UK and other more enlightened parts of the western world, but many gay boys and girls, men and women, are still growing up in a family and/or local environment that is anything but gay- friendly, especially those whose cultures of origin remain as anti-gay as ever.
When we gay people find ourselves in a gay-unfriendly environment - home, school, workplace or even all three - it can feel like fighting a war with the odds stacked up against us. We survive by choosing to bring survival various tactics into play, each in our own way. These are our choices, no one else's; we need to find our own war, survive according to what strikes us (at the time, at least) as the best available option. Even so, whatever the battle, we must never lose sight of winning whatever war it is we are fighting on whatever Front.
Winning and losing will mean different things to different people. It helps, I have learned over the years, to bear in mind that we are not alone. Millions of gay people around the are world fighting the same battles; winning some, losing some. It's not so different if you're straight, just other battles, other wars, on other Fronts. I put this to a homophobic neighbour once. He didn't know what to say, just gave me a big hug. We became friends and stayed friends for years until he died. (But, yes, he could just as easily have beaten me to a pulp.)
Win or lose - wherever the battle, whatever the war - we need to speak up... if only to stand a real chance of having others accept and respect us for the person we are not who they might prefer us to be for reasons best known to themselves; reasons that need to be aired, shared... and invariably found wanting. By not acknowledging and acting on this need, we simply create our own customised closet where love may well survive, but will never flower as nature intended.
In some countries, speaking up for love is a criminal offence if you're gay, possibly even punishable by death. So, yes, it's easy for me to talk. Yet, if no one speaks up for change...little or nothing will ever change. History makes that very clear. The history, that is, of a common humanity of which gay people have as much a part to play (and do) as anyone else. Wherever a bigoted majority can't see that, it needs to look to its shortcomings and do right by itself as well as the rest of us; its tragedy is that it embraces cultures, religions (and politics) that can't see living woods for beautifully sculpted trees.
Not only gay men and woman have memories of closet love, of course, given various socio-cultural-religious prejudices and divisions worldwide. This is a gay-interest blog, though, so there you have it, a natural bias...
FIRST (CLOSET) LOVE
Last seen dying in the rain
wiping horn-rimmed glasses
empathising with my pain
Heartache, time and again,
brooding on broken promises
last seen dying in the rain
Wishing on weeping stars
for any clearer, kinder choices
empathising with my pain
Lies never up to the strain
of enemy hits and near misses,
last seen dying in the rain
Mind games in the fast lane
booze, weed, and sunny kisses
empathising with my pain
Home truths, precious bane,
life forces guarding such secrets
last seen dying in the rain,
empathising with my pain
Copyright R. N. Taber 2004
[Note: An earlier version of this villanelle under the title 'Crying in the Rain' appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]
I once watched with some jealousy as a local youth proudly introduced his new girlfriend to some mates. Yes, I was a shade jealous of their youth, but I was also remembering my own first love all those years ago, someone I could not introduce to my friends because we were gay. In those days, I used to play safe which invariably meant keeping head down and mouth shut if only for a quiet life. It would be some (too many) years before I'd take a long, hard, look at that quiet life, see it for the prison it was, and break out.
In the western world, being gay is a lot easier now than it was for me then, but rarely easy; much depends on whether we are fortunate enough to live in a gay-friendly environment which, in turn, may well depend on race, culture, religion or whatever other dogmatic mind-body-spirit we may have been raised to think is 'right' or 'normal' (but for whom?) Oh, we may have political correctness and Gay Rights here in the UK and other more enlightened parts of the western world, but many gay boys and girls, men and women, are still growing up in a family and/or local environment that is anything but gay- friendly, especially those whose cultures of origin remain as anti-gay as ever.
When we gay people find ourselves in a gay-unfriendly environment - home, school, workplace or even all three - it can feel like fighting a war with the odds stacked up against us. We survive by choosing to bring survival various tactics into play, each in our own way. These are our choices, no one else's; we need to find our own war, survive according to what strikes us (at the time, at least) as the best available option. Even so, whatever the battle, we must never lose sight of winning whatever war it is we are fighting on whatever Front.
Winning and losing will mean different things to different people. It helps, I have learned over the years, to bear in mind that we are not alone. Millions of gay people around the are world fighting the same battles; winning some, losing some. It's not so different if you're straight, just other battles, other wars, on other Fronts. I put this to a homophobic neighbour once. He didn't know what to say, just gave me a big hug. We became friends and stayed friends for years until he died. (But, yes, he could just as easily have beaten me to a pulp.)
Win or lose - wherever the battle, whatever the war - we need to speak up... if only to stand a real chance of having others accept and respect us for the person we are not who they might prefer us to be for reasons best known to themselves; reasons that need to be aired, shared... and invariably found wanting. By not acknowledging and acting on this need, we simply create our own customised closet where love may well survive, but will never flower as nature intended.
In some countries, speaking up for love is a criminal offence if you're gay, possibly even punishable by death. So, yes, it's easy for me to talk. Yet, if no one speaks up for change...little or nothing will ever change. History makes that very clear. The history, that is, of a common humanity of which gay people have as much a part to play (and do) as anyone else. Wherever a bigoted majority can't see that, it needs to look to its shortcomings and do right by itself as well as the rest of us; its tragedy is that it embraces cultures, religions (and politics) that can't see living woods for beautifully sculpted trees.
Not only gay men and woman have memories of closet love, of course, given various socio-cultural-religious prejudices and divisions worldwide. This is a gay-interest blog, though, so there you have it, a natural bias...
FIRST (CLOSET) LOVE
Last seen dying in the rain
wiping horn-rimmed glasses
empathising with my pain
Heartache, time and again,
brooding on broken promises
last seen dying in the rain
Wishing on weeping stars
for any clearer, kinder choices
empathising with my pain
Lies never up to the strain
of enemy hits and near misses,
last seen dying in the rain
Mind games in the fast lane
booze, weed, and sunny kisses
empathising with my pain
Home truths, precious bane,
life forces guarding such secrets
last seen dying in the rain,
empathising with my pain
Copyright R. N. Taber 2004
[Note: An earlier version of this villanelle under the title 'Crying in the Rain' appears in The Third Eye by R. N. Taber, Assembly Books, 2004]
