AN AUTOETHNOGRAPHIC EXPLORATION OF MY SEXUAL IDENTITY
AS SEEN THROUGH INTERPRETIVE DANCE
by
Tyler Stephen Hall
Thesis submitted in partial fulfillment of the requirements for the Degree of Master of Education (Counselling)
Acadia University Fall Graduation 2016
© Tyler Stephen Hall, 2016
This thesis by Tyler Stephen Hall was defended successfully in an oral examination on September 1st 2016.
The examining committee for the thesis was:
______Dr. Ying Zhang, Chair
______Dr. Rebecca Lloyd, External Reader
______Dr. Celeste Snowber, Internal Reader
______Dr. John Guiney Yallop, Supervisor
______Linda Wheeldon, Acting Head/Director
This thesis is accepted in its present form by the Division of Research and Graduate Studies as satisfying the thesis requirements for the degree Master of Education (Counselling)
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I, Tyler Stephen Hall, grant permission to the University Librarian at Acadia University to reproduce, loan or distribute copies of my thesis in microform, paper or electronic formats on a non-profit basis. I, however, retain the copyright in my thesis.
______Author
______Supervisor
______Date
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TABLE OF CONTENTS
ABSTRACT VI
ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS VII
CHAPTER 1 – INTRODUCTION 1
CHAPTER 2 - I’M GAY AND I’M WRITING A THESIS 6
Qualitative Research 7 Autoethnography 8
Arts-based Research 10 Dance as Inquiry 12
Social Constructionism 15
So now what? 20
CHAPTER 3 – A COUNT OF EIGHT 26
Beat 1 – Adolescence 28 Pennies on the Bus 28 Pushing Hard 31
Beat 2 – Coming Out 36 A Jacuzzi at Prom 36 Parental Disclosure 39
Beat 3 – Rainbow Flag Gay Bar 45 Rainbow Flag 45 Gay Bar 47
Beat 4 – One Date 53
Beat 5 – The Bathroom at Cheers 63
Beat 6 – First ‘Love’ 72 Sam and Craig 72 Nobody Needs to Know 77
Beat 7 – One New Message 80
CHAPTER 4 – HOLDING THE MOVEMENT 87
Is being gay a part of my culture? 89
How have these moments affected me? 90
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What have these moments taught me about the world? 91
Where is strength pulled from when all seems dark? 93
What do I know about myself through these moments? 94
Model Behaviour 95 An Increased Acceptance of the Label of Homosexual as Descriptive of Self 96 The Development of a Positive Attitude Towards this Identity 96 Increased Personal and Social Contact with Homosexuals 96 A Growing Desire to Disclose One’s Sexual Orientation 97 A Synthesis of Homosexual Identity with Overall Self-Concept 97
Where is there more work to be done… 97
CHAPTER 5 – BEAT EIGHT 99
Pas de Deux 99 Reprise - Marcelo Zarvos & Peter Vronsky 101 He Lives in You - Mark Mancina and Jay Rifkin 102
REFERENCES 105
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Abstract
The following study is an exploration of my own sexual identity using interpretive dance as my method of inquiry. Using a social constructionist theoretical orientation and an arts-based autoethnographic methodology, I have revisited seven key moments in my life and have explored them through the use of interpretive dance. It is through this exploration that I am able to (re)examine these life events so that I may see the connections between what has occurred and how I have come to understand the idea of my gay self. At the heart of this paper, and myself, lies internalized homophobia, which I have taught myself through these life events. This paper is a coming to terms with the power and insidious nature of that internalized homophobia and how it has negatively affected my life. This study is the beginning of dealing with the ramifications of these moments and the start of a new understanding of self and sexual identity.
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Acknowledgements
To Rebecca, my external reader, I am so grateful for you joining on this journey with me and for your contributions.
To Celeste, my internal reader, your poetry and movement inspired me to push and dig and move into these places of inquiry and your support lifted me up so that I may do so.
Without you I couldn’t have done this.
To my family and friends, especially my mom, your support over the years and love has allowed me to find the strength I needed to go back to these points in my life and look again.
To Alex, my partner in crime, you don’t know how much I appreciate everything you have done, I am glad I had you by my side.
To Julia, who taught me to dance, and taught me that anyone can dance. I wouldn’t be here without your kindness.
And finally to John, my supervisor, I can’t tell you what a pleasure working with you has been and I can’t find enough words to thank you for all your kindness, support and dedication to this project.
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Chapter 1 – Introduction
July 30 2015, University Dance Studio.
To me it still smells of sweat and testosterone, although the smells have faded away. I am a stranger here now. The once dark coloured walls are painted a cheery yellow to liven up the subterranean space. It is quiet here now and I am alone. As I take a deep breath in I can feel the dormant energy in the room and the possibility of what is to come in this space. It both comforts and unnerves me.
Outside the room are the remains of an old hockey arena. The rink itself has been demolished but the labyrinth of change rooms remains. When I first came to this space, I was a freshman at university. I had never formally danced before. At that time these halls were filled with hockey players and, with them, a smell that still pricks my nose. How strange that a space where I learned to accept my gayness was surrounded by, what I viewed at the time, a world of heterosexual and homophobic masculinity. As I sat outside the room waiting for my turn, I was met constantly with the quizzical stares of jocks as they passed me. I was sitting on the floor with my ballet shoes beside me, and them towering above me on skates, their hair glistening with sweat. I was scared of them, but I was also attracted to them. Flashbacks to my past as an adolescent and those who had hurt me were embodied in these men, yet some part of me wanted them, to lay with them, to be held by them, and, most of all, to be accepted by them. Luckily, the heavy black door opened before too long and I was beckoned into a world of safety. It was almost eight years ago that I took my first steps into this dance studio and my journey of healing began.
Back then I was terrified of my first dance class. To be the boy in a dance class
1 for me was like broadcasting my sexuality to everyone, and that was a terrifying thing to do. To this day, I still don’t know what made me join the class. Beginning dance at the age of 18 is not common. In my dance classes today, all of my colleagues have been dancing for 20 or more years, yet I have been doing it only eight years. Not only was I facing ridicule for being the only boy in the class, but also I was the most inexperienced.
That feeling sat in my stomach like a heavy chunk of clay, and I can still feel it in there weighing me down today.
As soon as I entered the classroom eight years ago, I stood so far from the door that no one would be able to see me from the hall. I was hiding from the hyper masculinity that prowled the change room corridors, waiting to hurt me. In here, where I sit now, I was protected. It was a safe zone where I was able to begin to explore who I was. Today I have come back to the exact space where it all began, to better understand my own sexual identity, using dance as my guide.
Although the outside has changed, the interior still remains almost exactly as it was. The wooden floor, with its thin slats, still beckons me to move against it. I slowly rub my feet against the worn floor and feel that connection with it, and with myself. I can feel a trembling inside. I don’t quite know where to start and I don’t know where I am going to finish.
The one thing I know is that I trust dance.
I look at myself in the mirror and smile. I look small and sheepish. These eight years certainly have changed my outer appearance. Since I started dancing I have lost 50 pounds and my body is more lean and muscular. I flex in the mirror and feel my muscles tighten, and I smile. I begin to sway back and forth feeling my feet push against the floor
2 and I close my eyes and try to clear my mind for the work that needs to be done. The thick black door is shut. It protects me from the ghosts of my past who still dwell in the halls. I am safe in here and I can begin.
Something is not quite right inside; this is apparent. I suppose I knew it was there or I wouldn’t be embarking on this journey. Still, I am surprised by what happens. I drift through the space relishing the act of free movement. My body flows like air in the room as I cover space and explore the entirety of the studio. Soon though, the excitement fades and my body brings my mind back to awareness and purpose. I focus more intently on my movement and the meaning within that movement. I stop moving and stare at myself in the mirror, transfixed as thoughts begin to surface. I have stirred the dark waters of my memories, and moments of truth are bubbling up from within.
I stand still in silence, staring at myself. I instantly fall down and embrace the floor. There is something weighing me down. I find it hard to move. In my head I am screaming GET UP but still I am drawn to the floor. After a minute, stuck here by my own will, I break out and scream. I startled myself. What just happened?
“Man” I say as I jump up and extend my arms at a 90-degree angle. I feel
powerful, like a warrior. I move across the room and say
“Woman” and instantly
my body collapses in and I
feel weak. I come to
realize soon that these are
two parts within myself:
the named “man” and Figure 1 – Man/ Straight Figure 2 – Woman/Gay
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“woman.” I begin experimenting with these words and change them to “straight” and
“gay.” This divide within me comes out, the opposition between straight and gay, them and I, normal and queer. When straight is exclaimed a burst of energy comes forth and I leap into the air. When gay is said I collapse within myself.
I will myself to jump at the word gay but I stop and face the camera that is recording this.
“I can’t,” I say, looking straight ahead. I take a deep breath and a few steps forward.
“I’m scared; I’m scared to say ‘gay’ while doing a strong movement.” I am looking directly at the camera now.
“When I say ‘straight’ I can jump high; I say ‘gay’ and I bend and fold. I’m not proud of who I am; I am not fully proud.” I don’t know what this means. How does one become fully proud, and what does that do to a person, especially when looking at their view of themselves? Perhaps this is where the exploration lies and where I need to look.
I attempt the movement again with the exclamation “gay.” I instantly recoil from the motion.
“No, it’s not the same. It’s graceful and beautiful but it is not strong.”
I try again, rising up into attitude. “Straight,” legs powerful and chest up. “Gay,” the movement looks similar but again I stop.
“It’s different; when I say ‘straight’ the movement is strong and powerful, but when I say ‘gay’…” I stop and try the movement again. “Gay”
“It’s different, it’s different inside…. There’s a difference between the two.”
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Typing the above words has left me feeling empty. I did know something was incongruous within me, but I didn’t know it was like this. I am supposed to just be writing the introduction section to my thesis. I guess I was expecting something different. Perhaps a section about the trepidation one feels about writing a thesis, some pre-authorial jitters. I guess instead I am diving head first into the problem. Perhaps this is a more fitting introduction than I had planned. Perhaps as I am writing the thesis, the thesis is also writing me.
I take a deep breath and look around the studio. It feels bigger now and less protective; almost sterile like an operating room. I feel vulnerable. It’s not a nice feeling.
I have woken something up today, something that my body remembers but my mind has forgotten (Snowber, 2012a). I’m crying now; I feel weak and defeated. I take a deep breath. This is enough for today. I have lots of work ahead of me.
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Chapter 2 - I’m gay and I’m writing a thesis
Well look, I said it. For a project that deals with exploring my sexual identity, I suppose it is best to start with the end and go backwards. Here I am now, 26 years old, about to embark backwards through my life to see what led to who I am today. A lofty goal perhaps, but the driving goal nonetheless.
I am asked constantly what I am doing my thesis on. Sometimes I find it hard to know where to begin. First of all, will they mock me for using dance as a methodology?
Will they shame me for being gay? Will they even think it is real research?
“So Tyler, what are you writing your thesis on?”
“I am doing an autoethnographic study of my sexual identity as seen through interpretive dance.”
“………”
I did it…
Even now I am surprised at myself. When I started this degree I had never heard of qualitative research, much less autoethnography, and now it seems I am diving in head first, not just into research, but also into my life.
For me, research seemed like something unattainable, something big and scary that loomed over people. It was not until I learned about qualitative research, arts-based research, and autoethnography that I began to think, “Maybe I can do this.” After reading through textbooks and articles on this subject (Denzin & Lincoln, 2008; Ellis, 2003; Ellis,
Adams, & Bochner, 2011; Hay, Gordon, & Shuk, 2015; Merriam, 2009), that “Maybe I can” changed to “Maybe I should.” Now, my choice is set and here I am writing a thesis.
In this section I will outline the foundations for my thoughts and processes, my
6 theoretical framework, and my methodology. I will explain why qualitative research is the right fit for me, and more specifically, why and how autoethnography and arts-based research are being used in this study. All I knew when I started writing this was I wanted to tell my story, and I wanted to dance. That led me to where I am today.
Qualitative Research
At its heart, qualitative research does not aim to prove or generalize a theory or an idea. “Qualitative researchers are interested in understanding how people interpret their experiences, how they construct their worlds, and what meaning they attribute to their experiences” (Merriam, 2009, p. 5). As someone who wants to share his life story so far, this frame of mind seemed a perfect fit for me, particularly when focusing on how I have constructed my world. The understanding of my experiences is embedded into the purpose of my study. To discover and trek through my past, I needed a framework that would allow me to do this on a more emotional level. Quantitative research, with its statistical models and large population sizes, did not fit with what I wanted to get out of this research. The population size of my study is one, just me. While quantitative methods are a vital part of the research community, qualitative methods are better suited to my project.
Qualitative research does not seek to find numerical data. The data that is collected is based more on observation, interviews, and interpretation (Kalra, Pathak, & Jena,
2013). Qualitative research allows me the freedom to explore areas that are hard to quantify and it puts the emphasis on my emotional experience. From the very first class I took on research design, when I learned about qualitative methods, I knew it was a fit for me. “Qualitative inquiry has contributed to science by making the taken-for-granted
7 world visible in unique and sometimes jarring ways”(Mayan, 2009, p.9).
Autoethnography
“There is no greater agony than bearing an untold story inside of you”
– Maya Angelou
As a graduate student in a counselling program, the focus is always to look inwards and to understand who we are and where we come from (Baker, 1999; Pare, 2012; Stern,
Hyman, & Martin, 2006). This also allows us, as future counsellors, to stay grounded and sit with clients in distress and better help them through their journey, without getting swept away in our own challenges. This introspection is a necessity. This desire for greater self-awareness lies at the heart of my thesis. As I am the focus, the subject, the researched and the researcher, a methodology that places importance on that is crucial.
Autoethnography takes the researcher’s personal experience and locates it within a social and cultural context. By combining the experience with cultural implications, it seeks to challenge and expand on other qualitative methods by allowing room for the self
(Anderson, 2006; Wall, 2008). “Autoethnography is an approach to research and writing that seeks to describe and systematically analyze (graphy) personal experience (auto) in order to understand cultural experience (ethno)” (Ellis, Adams, & Bochner, 2011, p.1). It draws the reader into the story and the experience to expand awareness and understanding of the culture in which it is placed (Foster, McAllister, & O’Brien, 2006).
The emphasis in research is on shifting the lens from striving for objectivity to the importance of the view of the researcher. The focus, therefore, is on stories, narratives, and experience (Hay et al., 2015; Muncey, 2008). For this study, I will be using what
Ellis (2003) describes as personal ethnography. She describes it as writing “evocative
8 stories specifically focused on their [the researchers’] academic and personal lives” (p.
45). She goes on to explain how in doing this type of autoethnography, the researcher, me, invites the reader, you, to enter my world and reflect on my experience to help you understand your own. The emphasis is on the personal narrative. The purpose is to elicit understanding of self, or a specific part of a lived life, and how this fits into the greater culture in which the piece is being written (Ellis, 2003). In my case, this is about how my experiences growing up not only shaped who I believed I was, or who I believe I am, but also how I then fit, or do not fit, into the greater culture that surrounds me.
As stated before, I knew that in writing a thesis I wanted to share my story first and foremost. I feel very attached to the idea of story, and with that idea comes the idea of narratives and narrative inquiry. During the early stages of my thesis, when I was searching for the perfect methodology, I felt myself going back and forth between autoethnography and narrative inquiry. At a glance, both seemed to fit my needs.
Autoethnography, as seen above, is taking an analytical look at one’s own life, and narrative inquiry uses narratives or stories to help inform the research . After further delving into narrative inquiry, it was clear that autoethnography was the right choice for this study and myself as a researcher.
While telling my story was an extremely important condition for my methodology, another important idea was the placement of that story within a specific environment. The time and place are just as important as the narrative itself. This is, for me, where autoethnography overtook narrative inquiry. While these are not of unimportance in narrative inquiry, the experience overall is what is prized the most
(Connelly & Clandinin, 1990; Duff & Bell, 2002; Savin-Baden & Niekerk, 2007; Trahar,
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2009). My study, however, is focused on how the experience shaped my understanding of my own culture and understanding of what it means to be gay. Autoethnography provides the reflection on my overall social upbringing combined with my experience
(Ellis et al., 2011). In other words, while narrative inquiry is centered around the story, the focus is more on how the story is being told from an analytical stand point (Holstein
& Gubrium, 2011; Webster & Mertova, 2007) as opposed to what the story says about the culture in which it is placed. It is for these reasons that I choose to use autoethnography instead of narrative inquiry.
My choice of using autoethnography also pairs extremely well with my social constructionist theoretical orientation. Social constructionism grounds me and provides a framework in which the reader can understand my core beliefs about the research. In addition, it allows me to further explore, through an autoethnographic retelling, how my culture shaped my understanding of being gay and the result it had on my life.
Arts-based Research
I have always loved, and been involved in, the arts, from music to drama to, more recently, dance. The arts have always been a way for me to escape and enter a world that is unlike my own, a way to escape the hostility that surrounded me, and the pains that hostility caused within. In my study, this idea will be completely reversed. I am going to use the arts in order to enter my reality to a more full extent, instead of escaping from it.
The power of the arts allows us to “get in touch with our ‘realities’, our social worlds and the lived experiences of others, in ways that demand critical reflection” (O’Neill, 2007, p.218). It offers that rawness of experience that I am seeking in order to take this journey.
This form of research comes under two main titles. Some researches refer to it as
10 art-based research (Klorer, 2014; McNiff, 2011; Moon & Hoffman, 2014), while others use the term arts-based research (Black & O’Dea, 2015; Chilton & Scotti, 2014; Leavy,
2015). Although both terms are similar, the term that fits most with me and my work is arts-based research. In this project, I feel more connected to using “the arts” as opposed to “art” in order to conduct my exploration. Although different terms are used, the rest of the study will refer to my work as arts-based research, and I identify as an arts-based researcher and an autoethnographer.
In arts-based research, a form or forms of art is/are used as the mode of inquiry.
The data collection process is facilitated through the use of (an) expressive art form(s) and in doing so, it allows the researcher to experience ‘knowing’ in a different way
(Leavy, 2015). My passion for the arts has become fuel, which fires my interest in the research topic even more and will allow me to go further and dig deeper. Arts-based research “enables an outsider to view an event from the inside’, resulting in a
‘reeducation of perception’” (Alexander, 2003, p. 5-6).
Desyllas (2013) looked at sex workers and the use of arts-based research. Her findings showed that through these creative techniques, the members of the study were able to delve more deeply into painful memories and life stories, but at the same time it provided a platform in which they could challenge stereotypes and assumptions about sex workers. The arts provide a safe container in which one can begin, to explore and express who we are (Desyllas, 2013). My childhood was not necessarily easy, especially my adolescent years. The emotions and experiences, which I will explore, will be painful, but the arts, and more specifically dance, will allow me to do this in a supportive way. As stated above, I trust dance, and by using this art form to conduct this research, I can do so
11 in a way that feels safe and comforting to me.
Dance as Inquiry
As stated above, I discovered dance later in life, relatively speaking but, when I did, it was as if it had always been a part of me. I felt an instant connection to the movement and the emotional release that it provided. I was able to express myself and feel with my whole body. There was no question once I decided to do an arts-based research study that I would be using dance as my medium; in fact, it was dance that brought me to arts-based research. Dance, for me, is a part of who I am, and it helped me to begin to explore and embrace my sexuality.
Although I did discover dance later in life it is important to point out that it is a medium in which I am very well versed. It is something that permeates every moment of my life and is entangled within the very limbs of my soul. This entanglement is important as Lloyd (2015) points out when looking at the relationship between experience and a feeling of flow.
The cultivation of one’s craft, to the extent where the action becomes fluid, is an
antecedent. That means if that one picks up a hammer, presses a key on a piano,
kicks a ball, or twirls a hula-hoop for the first time, the nature of thinking as one
finds one’s grip or footing is likely to be forced, jerky, clumsy, and potentially
disconnected, i.e., not seamlessly living in and through the action itself (p. 24-25).
I have reached the stage in my dance practice where the actions flow freely from my body. The movement is from within, not without. It is because of this flow, this fluidity, that dance will be a powerful method of inquiry for me and for the reader. The movement
12 cannot be forced or jerky if it is to be exploratory and rich. It will be a feeling of living in, and with the actions in order for the thickening of my life experiences (Lloyd, 2015).
Snowber (2011) refers to the body as a free GPS system that exists within all of us. A system that has the information to lead us to what we desire and what we long for.
Dance and movement are a way to tap into and receive the information that our bodies have for us (Blumenfeld-Jones, 1995; Cancienne, 2008; Lewis, 2003; Margolin &
Riviere, 2015; Migdalek, 2014; Snowber, 2011; Snowber, 2012a; Snowber, 2012b;
Ylönen, 2003). The nature of this study is to take a path that is new to me. By accessing my body, my inner GPS, I will be able to rediscover what the mind has forgotten but what the body remembers, and, most importantly, not get lost along the way. The GPS is a comforting tool when journeying into strange territory. You can rely on it to get you through even the darkest of places. Having mine with me is a huge comfort.
As this study seeks to explore and dig to uncover my hidden assumptions and beliefs about my reality, I needed a method that would allow me to do this. Dance taps in to what Ylönen (2003) describes as bodily knowledge. It creates interpretations of experiences, and, from these, a dialogue between the body and the mind occur. It allows us to understand things in a different way. “The body has an enormous capacity to open up places of deep and embodied wisdom, and this is not about the steps, but what goes beyond the steps” (Ricketts & Snowber, 2013, p.2).
Bakhtin (1981) puts forward that dance, on its own, is a type of language that can redefine traditional methods of expression, such as speech, and therefore allows the exploration to go beyond words. “Artists ‘describe what they experience’ and, ‘create virtual experiences in language, space, time, or sound so that others can grasp what they
13 perceive directly, through encountering a new work of art” (Alexander, 2003, p. 3).
It is exactly for those reasons above that dance is such a strong way of inquiry.
Blumenfeld-Jones (1995) speaks about dance as the art of motion and attending to that motion. I am dancing in order to attend to the movement and the richness within that movement. This will not only help me to tap into the bodily knowledge and push into the research material but it will allow me to create a ‘virtual experience’ so that the reader may enter my world and understand what it is like to be me. Through that connection, understanding can occur and it is through that shared understanding where the value lies.
Movement and dance are a way of expression, much like words are a way of expression. Banes (1998) breaks dance up into linguistic parts to help understand how it can create meaning. Movements are the small units that make up the base, and these come together to form words. The words combine and create phrases, and from these phrases a discourse, in the form of a dance, is created in which social context is at its root. It is this dance, this discourse, that I aim to create.
When thinking back on my formative adolescent years, what happened, and how I feel, is not quite clear as of yet. The memories, the feelings, the fears, and the pain are shadows that are left like cave paintings on the walls of my mind; distant images that are not readily available to me at the present time. This study is both a search for and an exploration of those moments. The purpose is to make the abstract visible to myself in order to flesh out these primitive cave drawings, so, like an archeologist, who uses tools and brushes to look beyond and examine what lies beneath the layers of dirt, I will use dance so that I may examine and understand better who I am. Dance will be my canvas; my own cave wall and my body will be the paintbrush, the carving stone, and the
14 inspiration. Through this process I will be able to (re)live these moments viscerally so they may be examined and understood by the greater research community as well as by myself. Margolin & Riviere (2015) state that dance and the act of reflecting on that movement gives us clues about what we need and what we want that come not from the mind, but from the body directly. They put forward it is not only the dance that is of importance but also the reflection afterwards.
For me, and this project, dance is a form of searching, a method to find what is hidden. It is not meant to be seen by others and interpreted. It is the narratives that share the story. I feel shy and timid about the dance. It is something sacred shared between me and the space. I don’t want people to see and judge myself. I am not ready to be that vulnerable. For that reason I have chosen not to include videos of my dancing in this project. I have, however, included still photographs so you can glean the connection I feel with dance and so you can perhaps envision what is happening. It is for your imagination to decide what the movement looks like and it is through my storytelling that I will endeavor to transport you to the studio with me.
Social Constructionism
“As long as society is anti-gay, then it will seem like being gay is anti-social.”
- Joseph Francis
This thesis is all about understanding how my life path has shaped who I am today.
I strongly believe that deep down, what has shaped me, and what has shaped all of us, is the society and culture in which we live.
I was raised a Canadian white cis-gendered male, i.e. I was born a biological male and my gender identity was based on that birth category (Tate, Bettergarcia, & Brent,
15
2015), and I was brought up in a small rural town in southwest Ontario. The town in which I lived was extremely homogenous in many aspects. I was raised white, as that was the only race I came into contact with. Growing up, there were rarely people of other ethnicities. I can remember when our school had one black student in it. This was a huge change for us.
The town was also quite homogenous in terms of religious practices. Most people were agnostic and religion played a very small role. None of my friends went to church, nor did I, but we probably would all identify as ‘Christians’ if we had to choose. I can remember when I first met a Jew, or at least was aware the person with whom I was speaking was Jewish. It was a challenge to my general understanding to find out they did not celebrate Christmas. The idea of a practice that was outside my own cultural sphere,
I’m sad to say, was a surprise. I was 17 years old.
I was also raised very intentionally male. In my hometown, the concept of being anything other than the gender in which you were born was not even an option. I shudder to think of any individuals who were/are facing that struggle in small towns just like mine all around the planet.
Everything I did growing up was gendered, my toys, who I hung out with, the activities which were acceptable were all gendered. “Children are socialized into the patterns of culture necessary for survival and growth within the communities and environments in which they are raised” (Migdalek, 2014, p.12). Knowing this, it’s not surprising to find out that I did not begin to take dance classes until university. Being a dancer was not a way in which I could survive and grow in my environment. It wasn’t until I left my small town that I could begin to explore the other aspects of my gender
16 apart from those that were laid out for me. I must say though, this gendered upbringing began to wane as I became more and more independent. As I approached high school I began to spend most of my time with girls and my taste in movies and music began to change. My parents allowed me to stop playing sports and take up music, and were supportive of me. The more and more I look at myself, it seems that a lot of my gendered upbringing, came from within, and still does today. I have taken those values that I was, and still am surrounded with, and have internalized those. Although it comes from within,
I learned it from the external world to which I was exposed.
My Canadian identity also comes from my small town. No one in my class was from anywhere other than Canada. We were raised in a microcosm. Looking back, I can remember learning about other cultures in school, but it was always just what their flag looked like and what ‘ethnic cuisine’ we associated it with; sushi from Japan, chicken balls from China, and tacos from Mexico. Middle Eastern, Indian, South American,
African, and other cuisines were not even mentioned. The first time I had curry, I was 16 years old.
I lived with my mother and father, as well as my younger sister. We lived a very comfortable life socioeconomically, and there were few moments when money was an issue. My parents are still together and living in my childhood home.
When I think of culture, that is all that comes to mind for me - white, male, and
Canadian. Even to this day, although much has been written about gay culture, ‘gay,’ for me, is not a part of my culture.
I guess I have never really thought about my culture before, but it’s true, ‘gay’ is
17 not part of it… or at least I don’t see it that way right now. This is significant for me.
Can someone be gay but not have ’gay’ be a part of her or his culture?
Why am I gay? This question has haunted the pages of my diary as a young boy and, if I am being truly honest, sometimes it haunts me even now, more so as I began thinking about this project. Before, as a young boy, I would ask in futility to some nameless Creator, “Why was I created this way?” Now the questioning is more curious, less desperate. As an adolescent I was always wondering what I did to deserve to be punished with what I use to call ‘my disease,’ that ‘disease’ being homosexuality. The phrase nature vs. nurture comes to my thoughts instantly. Was I as Lady Gaga (2011) says, “born this way,” or was I raised in an environment that made me this way? The creation of gayness must expand beyond the limits of simple biology and be shaped by a myriad of factors. Right?
Richard Von Krafft-Ebing is often noted as the founder of sexology and the writer of one of the most important foundational works in the field, Psychopathia Sexualis
(Stryker & Whittle, 2006). He held an essentialist viewpoint of sexuality, specifically homosexuality, claiming that it was a biological condition and therefore required treatment (Krafft-Ebing, 2010). Many still look to biology for an understanding of homosexuality (Grimbos, Dawood, Burriss, Zucker, & Puts, 2010; LeVay, 2011;
McKnight & Malcolm, 2000). Up until 1974, the American Psychological Association considered homosexuality a psychiatric disorder, and only in 1992 did the World Health
Organization remove homosexuality from their list of disorders (Green & Grant, 2008).
Based on this information alone, it is not surprising that I, too, had diagnosed myself with
18 this disease of homosexuality.
Looking back now, I see that it was not the fact that I was gay that caused so much emotional harm to myself growing up, but instead it was how society shaped my understanding of being gay. I suppose in addition to being raised a white male Canadian,
I was raised to be a heterosexual white male Canadian.
I was 10 or so, and my family and I were having dinner. The specifics are not clear in my mind, but somehow the subject of homosexuality was brought up. My father made a derogatory comment on gay men and my sister looked at me and said, “Just make sure you don’t grow up gay.” I laughed as did the rest of my family, but deep down I knew it was too late.
Throughout my entire life I was told at various times and in various ways, not all as specifically as at the dinner table with my family, that being gay was wrong. The culture I was raised in, and lived my younger years in, told me that who I was deep down was not right. The older I got the more often I was told. From here, things started to get hard for me.
This view of the importance of societal influence on constructing my world, my reality, fits with the theoretical orientation of social constructionism. This orientation focuses on how people create their own reality based on the social systems and culture they live in (Efran, McNamee, Warren, & Raskin, 2014; Thibodeaux, 2014). For me, being raised as a heterosexual, I created a reality in which my true sexual identity was not welcome.
Social constructionism seeks to challenge the objectivity held by the more
19 essentialist viewpoints (Epstein, 1998). The focus here is on the constructed reality of the research participants, in this case, myself. It assists me to look at how growing up in my town has shaped how I view my own world. The importance shifts from universal truths to my truths and perceptions (Magana, 2002). It is through the examination of my constructed reality where I can begin to observe and explore my gayness, and also the consequences of this construction. In taking a social constructionist orientation, it complements and strengthens my purpose. It supports my quest in furthering my self- discovery and also brings to light the effects of growing up gay in a straight world.
So now what?
Throughout this study I will be referring to myself as gay. As of this moment in time, for me, being gay means being sexually attracted to a member of the same sex.
What else the definition entails I am not yet aware of. This is my definition and my understanding of the term gay. When I refer to myself as gay or gayness in general, I do want to be clear that I am referring to my specific understanding of what it means to be gay. It will be the stories of my experience of gayness that I will be analyzing in order to help gain insight into what it means to be gay but also how it affects my understanding of myself.
Looking over my life I have identified moments or stories that are significant for me. These moments are points in my life that I believe have shaped my sexual identity and my understanding, or lack thereof, of what it means to be gay. It is through the creation and examination of these stories where my methods lie.
By dancing with these moments individually I was able to (re)visit and
(re)imagine these moments and (re)interpret the impact they had on me, on my life and
20 my understanding of who I am. These moments will be the inspiration for the movement.
Cancienne (2008) speaks about the relationship between choreography and research. She notes that both focus on an importance of theme and a centrality of interpretation. The moments I will be (re)visiting will be the driving theme for choreography and inquiry, and both the dance, and the analysis will be interpretive in nature. This further shows the connection between dance and research. It is from these moments in which I will tell my story and shed light on who I am and what factors shaped my understanding of what it means to be gay.
In order to do this I rented dance studio time that was my workspace for the next part of this study. Each time I entered the studio I focused on one of the moments that will be explained below. I used silence first and began moving as an introductory exploration of my feelings. I held the images in my head, and then with my body as they came flooding back, transporting me emotionally into the moment. If I decided music was needed to help with the exploration, only then was it used. I chose to start with silence, as I did not want the music to lead me in any direction. I wanted my body to do that, and once the emotions began to come forward I used music to help enhance the experience. Also, on more than one occasion, I combined movement with spoken word to help explore more deeply an experience.
The entire session was filmed and, directly afterward I spoke to the camera about the experience creating a video journal. After that I also took notes on the experience.
The recorded pieces were examined along with the video journal and the notes to create an emotional narrative of the moment. From there these moments were analyzed for themes or plot lines that stuck out. They were used to help show my overall experience as
21 a gay man, and that information, those emotions, were used to shed light on my research questions listed below. As I said before, I am not fully proud; dance was used to help me find out why.
This story is mine, but it may also be the story of any person who has faced similar challenges. I want to help people, that is why I am doing this project and it is why I have chosen this career. I want to help change the perceptions of those who influence youth, and to let people know that they have a key role in shaping a person’s reality. This thesis specifically goes out to those in contact with young persons. It is for teachers and parents or anyone who may not know the challenges someone may face every day. Although this is my story, many may be living and experiencing similar challenges and by shedding light on my story, it may help to shed light on other stories that go unnoticed.
I do not seek to find answers to all questions, and I may not have questions for all answers found. The thesis is to be primarily an exploration and an experience, not a search for concrete results. That being said, there are key ideas that drive the thesis forward. These are the questions that guide me as I dance and create data for this study.
What does it mean for me to be gay?
Is being gay a part of my culture?
How have these moments affected me?
What have these moments taught me about the world?
What do I know about myself through these moments?
Where is strength pulled from when all seems dark?
Where is there more work to be done?
The moments I have identified that I will be using dance to explore are:
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1. Adolescence
This is a moment when bullying got so bad it almost led to my suicide. This is a
look at how damaging anti-gay comments and actions affected my emotional
well-being.
2. Coming Out
This is the first time I admitted to anyone that I was gay, and is about the
importance of love and friendship in my life.
3. Rainbow Flag Gay Bar
This moment is when I moved out of my small town and saw my first rainbow
flag. It is also about my first experience entering a gay bar and being confronted
with living a gay lifestyle.
4. One Date
This moment is about my first date with a man, and my strong reaction that
followed it.
5. The Bathroom at Cheers
My first sexual encounter, and the foundations of my understanding of gay sex
began here.
6. First ‘Love’
Falling in and out of love for the first time, and its effect on my understanding of
love as a gay man.
7. One New Message
This painful story is a dark point where my desire to feel anything led to a
complete abandon of my basic value system.
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The choosing of these moments was a process that seemed to be almost predetermined. It was as if my body already knew what was to be told. The selection process extends from a project done during my masters about branching moments. These are moments in our life when we make a choice, and that choice leads us down a path which alters the course of who we are as a person. Once I put my mind and body to the task I discovered nine moments that were seeking to get out. They pushed and pulled against each other but were they all necessary? Narrowing my selection down to the seven moments you see above took thought and a process of searching within myself.
What does this moment reveal? Does it shed light on my sexuality development? Does it need to be told? Can the study exist without it? In the end, the seven moments above, out of the original nine I selected, fulfilled the above requirements. Once the moments were examined carefully against a purpose, the decision was not hard to make. Those that needed to be in the study moved and fluttered in my mind, ready to be told. Those that were not chosen nestled back down within myself. Some stories need to be shared and some are just for me. Now the time has come to let the chosen moments unfurl around me.
The research is about to begin. Until this I have only begun to scratch the surface of looking into my past more deeply. In the following chapter, I am about to dive into my past and (re)live moments I have left forgotten. I’m sitting on the floor curled up in the fetal position. I slowly begin to wiggle my toes and test the air around my protective stance. Is it safe? Can I come out? My foot slowly edges away from my body and I feel air rush in like a vacuum seal breaking. I’m becoming open, but also exposed. I start
24 moving my fingers and the palm of my hand feels cool as I uncurl them. My palm is drenched in sweat. Slowly, possibly as slow as I have ever moved, I unravel, I unclench, I come out. Has it been an hour or only 3 minutes? I am lying on my back, limbs spread wide like a child making a snow angel. I am open now, and I am ready.
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Chapter 3 – A Count of Eight
The phrase a count of eight lies very near and dear to my heart. To others it may seem like it has no significance at all. What is so special about the number eight anyways? For me, the number eight is rooted in dance and steeped in almost magical properties. As a dancer and also as a choreographer, the number eight lies at the heart of creation.
Dance and music are linked. They do not rely on one another to exist but when the two are brought together, a wonderful synergy occurs creating something that extends beyond their own single forms. A marriage, a joining, an almost alchemical reaction takes place. Music is often separated into what are known as bars or measures. These are essentially groups of musical notes that follow a particular rhythmic beat. The beat and the occurrence of these notes are often determined by something called the time signature. This is written at the beginning of every line on the sheet music informing the musician, or the dancer, how to count and play the music in its intended rhythm.
Although many time signatures exist where counting to eight would not work with the music, (think of a waltz where you count one, two, three; one, two, three) in my experience in dance, music that is separated into eight counts is my primary choice. In the majority of my dance training, exercises, combinations, and routines, they were all created, (with a few exceptions), around counts of eight. Before movement would begin, the teacher would stand at the front of the class and call out, “five, six, seven, eight.” It is as if calling those numbers out is akin to an ancient summons to move, to express, and to live.
26
I have chosen to take my seven moments from my life and represent them each as beats within a larger measure. They are all part of my story and although they span years, they are, with the final beat, just a single count of eight in my life. Each beat significant but when brought together, only then do they create something more. A story. My story.
The final beat, the eighth beat, is reserved for the end. That beat is for reflection.
It is a culmination of all that has happened in this experience. It is a summary of what I have learned and what is to be taken away as my life moves from this count of eight and on to the next.
The dance studio waits. I’m ready to begin.
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
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Beat 1 – Adolescence
We were taught by the experience of shame during those tender and formative
years of adolescence that there was something about us that was flawed, in
essence unlovable, and that we must go about the business of making ourselves
lovable if we are to survive (Downs, 2012, p. xi).
Pennies on the Bus
When thinking on a place to begin my exploration, the first moment that came forth is when I began high school. Going to an elementary school with only 300 students was a luxury. I felt sheltered and safe there. With a total graduating class of 22, everyone got along with everyone. It was also, for me, before I began to see signs of my emerging gayness. I was happy and I knew who I was.
High school came like a shock to the system. Everything changed. I was now among 2000 other students all struggling to figure out who we were as we began to grow into adolescence. One of the ways people seemed to solidify their newfound place in the social structure was to make sure it was above someone else’s. I was that someone else.
I was overweight. I had long curly blonde hair. I was coming to terms with the fact that I wasn’t like other boys. My peers noticed this too and used it as a way to climb their way to social success by putting me down.
Kehler and Martino (2007) point out that everyone is being influenced by their social surroundings. Boys in schools are constantly battling with the ideals of masculinity and it is eat or be eaten. They found that boys are often “feeling constrained and pressured to conduct themselves according to the limits of what is defined as acceptable masculinity” (Kehler & Martino, 2007, p.95). It just so happened that a way in which
28 others solidified their own expressions of masculinity was to show how it was different and more normal than mine.
The crucible of this existed in the form of the school bus. Mornings were always safe. It was 7:30AM and most kids were still half asleep. I could sit in peace and quiet.
The bus ride home was another story entirely. School was over and the newfound freedom excited everyone. This is where my exploration begins.
The dance studio seems large and dark. The spot lights cast shadows on the floor that make me uneasy. I feel slightly sick to my stomach as I think of putting my body through the motions that will bring me back here, back to the beginning.
I’m still. My whole body is in readiness for the bus ride ahead of me. I sway back and forth. It feels natural to sway but I’m mindful not to sway too much lest I draw attention to myself.
I see the bus in my mind and I walk forward. I turn down the aisle and I’m hit with the stares of the entire bus. They can smell the fear in me. I try to ignore their burning gazes and I contract into a squat. I have chosen my seat. Alone I sit… and wait.
A sharp pain pushes me forward and I feel my body break. FAG! QUEER! The words fly towards me and cut like a rusty knife in my back. I can’t let them see the pain; I can’t let them see the hurt. I become aware of my body and I am standing straight up. My arms are at both sides but hovering a few inches from my body.
The bus and the insults fade and I am back in the studio.
“Touch yourself.” I say quietly to myself. Nothing happens.
“Just caress your arm, show yourself some love.”
“no.”… It’s a quiet no but it’s determined.
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I turn to the camera.
To be still and unmoving on the bus was for survival. I wanted to be invisible. I had to be invisible if I wanted to survive the ride home. It was as if I was saying in my head, Shhhh, to my gay self. Don’t let them see. If I were to spin or jump, it would be a sign I was gay. I needed to push that part of me down so no one would know.
I speak directly to the camera. “Touching myself would be showing…”
A huge change comes over me. My eyes begin to water and my breathing becomes short.
“It would be showing my inner self compassion.” I barely get the sentence out and I am hit with a wave of emotion. I’m transported back to 14-year-old Tyler. I had just got off the bus. I’m the first one home and I’m curled in a ball in my garage weeping. I want it to stop so bad. Suicide seems to be the only option. As I get up and begin to think of how to take my life, a car pulls in my driveway. My parents are home. I run up to my room where I am safe from the outside world.
Wave after wave of emotion hits me. I turn away from the camera trying to hide my tears. It hurts. It is a hurt I haven’t felt for a long time but it has been within my body all along, weighing down on me from the corners of my mind and throughout my body.
“I don’t love myself.” I’m no longer speaking from the past. “It was on that bus I realized I couldn’t love myself. Admitting that I loved myself was admitting that I was ok with myself. Ok with being gay.” This is now. This is here. This is me.
In the end, it was the words they threw that hurt the most, so much that I forgot about the pennies bouncing off my head.
************************************************************************
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Pushing Hard
I’m not finished digging. There is more here my body aches to let out. I am instantly reminded of a song that feels right. I don’t question it and I find the song
Gravity by Bareilles (2013), and put it on.
The music is heavy and thick. My body feels still and alert. I’m back on the bus.
My body is the scene of a battle between wanting to be who I am (gay) and wanting to be still and invisible. As the first verse comes I’m back and forth from spinning and swaying to hard stiff pushing motions. Pushing back at who I am. Then the second verse hits my ears.
“You loved me 'cause I'm fragile. When I thought that I was strong. But you touch me for a little while and all my fragile strength is gone.”
The movement softens and I picture myself alone in my room. No one can see the true me, what lies deep down. I bend and fold around my body. Caressing myself now in the secret space within my room. It’s wonderful and soft. I am building a space for myself to get out…
The chorus comes and my body moves with the increasing tempo. My room is all that matters and I am safe.
“Set me free, leave me be. I don't want to fall another moment into your gravity. Here I am and I stand so tall, just the way I'm supposed to be.”
I finally allow myself out. I’m spinning and moving without care. I’M GAY! Here, nothing matters but freedom and happiness. After the relentless mocking on the bus, I can heal. This is the space that saved me. If not for my own little corner, I would not be here today.
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“But you're on to me and all over me.”
But it can’t last. As the chorus ends, I am reminded of the mask I must wear in the world to keep me safe. Ironic that what keeps me safe is also leading to thoughts of suicide.
As the bridge of the song progresses, I feel my gay self try to fight back; to be heard, to get out. My body jerks back and forth, pushing and bursting. A battle between inner and outer selves occurs. The mask is winning.
“You’re keeping me down.”
The last word seems to last an eternity. I have one hand above my head and I am pushing down with all my strength. I’m pushing down my gayness. Tears erupt from my
eyes but my arms do not
yield as they slowly
descend, shaking. The
more I push, the more it
hurts. My body is being
ripped apart. This part of
me needs to die if I am to
live. I’m empty. There is Figure 3 - Pushing Down nothing left. As the music fades I stare at the camera, dead eyes gazing forwards. The only hints of emotion are the tear marks on my face. I’m gone.
************************************************************************
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This experience was one of the most painful of my life. I felt like I was ripping a piece of my soul off and throwing it away forever. Luckily some unknown strength kept it safe inside of me until I was ready to let it out.
Every day I sat on that bus I began to build a wall around me. I needed it for protection. I was forming a shell, a closet if you will. Even when I was standing in the studio, trying to touch myself, trying to hold and caress my body, I could feel the thickness of the shell already. Yes the shell was protecting me from harm, but it was also pushing down on me from the inside.
This moment is the beginning of everything this study touches upon. It is the start of my understanding of my homosexuality, my gayness, and the start of my internalized homophobia.
George Weinberg published a book called Society and the Healthy Homosexual in
1972 following the removal of homosexuality from the Diagnostic and Statistics Manual of Mental Disorders, a manual published by the American Psychological Association, which is the standard in classifying mental disorders. The removal of homosexuality from this text meant that homosexuality was no longer a form of mental illness. Homosexuality was no longer a problem for the homosexual in his eyes but a problem for the heterosexual, thus creating the term homophobia. Furthermore, Weinberg went on to write that he would never consider a patient healthy unless they came to terms with their homophobic tendencies (Weinberg, 1983).
Internalized homophobia is a term describing the process of taking negative values around homosexuality and applying them to oneself. In other words, it is injecting the homophobic views and ideals of the culture in which one is brought up, into one’s
33 sense of self, despite the harm it may cause (Greene & Britton, 2015; Herrick et al., 2013;
Puckett, Woodward, Mereish, & Pantalone, 2014; Rowen & Malcolm, 2003; Walch,
Ngamake, Bovornusvakool, & Walker, 2015).
What began as a simple denial of gay tendencies for me turned into a war, not only to cover up, but to destroy those parts of me, even if it ended my life. The significance of that last dance piece for me is monumental. I always knew that I had internalized some of my homophobic upbringing, but to feel it again with my body was an unexpected discovery. I had no idea of how painful and harmful it was to me, and most importantly how deep it still runs in me today. This is a theme that ripples through this entire study and is central to my understanding of what it means for me to be a gay man. At the beginning when I said, “I’m not fully proud,” it is not surprising given the fact that every day as an adolescent I tried to destroy that part of me.
Homosexuality development models often begin in adolescence when one begins to realize one’s sexual preferences (Brady & Busse, 1994; Cass, 1979; Kenneady &
Oswalt, 2014; Troiden, 1989). It seemed only fitting that I begin my journey there.
Although I will not be following a traditional developmental model of identity development, it is worth elaborating here on the literature surrounding its use. Rowen &
Malcolm (2003) synthesize some of the most popular and noteworthy models (Cass,
1979; Coleman, 1982; Fassinger & Miller, 1997; Troiden, 1989), into one 5-stage model.
The stages are as follows:
(a) An increased acceptance of the label of homosexual as descriptive of self,
(b) The development of a positive attitude towards this identity,
(c) Increased personal and social contact with homosexuals,
34
(d) A growing desire to disclose one’s sexual orientation, and
(e) A synthesis of homosexual identity with overall self-concept.
By examining this model, it is clear how my negative view of homosexuality is problematic for a healthy sexual identity, from a developmental perspective. Even though to this day I have ‘achieved’ stages A, C, and sometimes D, my internalized homophobia is preventing me from developing a positive attitude towards my sexual identity. If that is the case, then without first dealing with that internalized homophobia, a synthesis between my homosexual identity and my overall self-concept will always contain that negative attitude.
Although other models do exist for homosexual identity development, this model seemed to feel right in terms of my own development and will be an interesting tool for further development following the data collection. In that way I will be able to help make sense and categorize some of the life moments and relate them to the various stages that the model above sets out. Although it will be therapeutic to use this model, and that is the models main intention, I do want to stress that the inclusion of this is to help make clear the findings and not to serve as a form of therapy for myself or anyone else. That said, however, it is important for me to state that this work has been therapeutic for me and may very well be therapeutic for the readers.
35
Beat 2 – Coming Out
“The coming-out (CO) process, defined as the sharing of one’s sexual orientation with others, has been described as an essential component in lesbian and gay (LG) identity formation and integration” (Baiocco et al., 2014, p. 1490).
A Jacuzzi at Prom
I swirl around the room, carless and free. A waltz plays in my head. 1,2,3 1,2,3.
Prom was a wonderful night. One of the first times I felt I could actually be myself.
The studio is a blur as I turn and step without agenda or aim Freedom
And I’ve got Julie
I reach out to touch her, stretching my leg and arm into arabesque in opposite directions, reaching right and Sarah, the motion repeats, reaching left and I’m so happy.
I sway side to side opening my arms up. My head falls back and I feel light shining down on me, Warming my face and arms
I’m with them and I can feel them embrace me.
My arms wrap around my body holding me, supporting me.
My skin tingles. Prom ends, and we go back to our hotel room We share things about our lives, what we want to do. Figure 4 - They are with me I reach my hands up and brush my leg out and back drawing a semi circle on the floor
36
Feeling my big toe drag against the smooth laminate of the studio I center my weight and push off into a pirouette, a turn
High school is over
We are in a Jacuzzi,
I laugh as I playfully stroke my arm I can still feel the effervescence running up my legs I sway back and forth pressing the balls of my feet gingerly into the ground
I’m drunk
And I know that these two people are two of the most important people in my life
I begin taking steps forwards looking intently at a spot on the floor.
I can see what I want to do. I want to share myself with somebody for the first time. I trust them to support me, and to hold me And to love me
As the night goes on I get closer.
Each foot purposefully placed on the floor in front of me, toe heel. Getting closer. A few steps back. My heart is beating faster, I try to side step it but…
Smack My fist makes impact with my hip and my body is moved to bend towards it. I can feel it ripple through me like a stone dropped in a pond
Part of me wants to get out
Smack. My fist makes impact with my other hip. Ripples
“Sarah, Julie, you’re my two best friends and you’ve always been there for me. And I need to tell you…
I inhale deeply
I’m Gay” Figure 5 - I'm gay
37
My whole body exhales as my hand leaves my heart and extends forward. An offering I contract and wait
I close my eyes, as I am flooded with the past. Tears come forth and I’m back there again.
I feel them hold me,
I can barley get the words out between the emotions
It’s the first time I’ve been held like that It’s wonderful,
Inhale Exhale
It’s so nice
I wrap my arms around myself and hold myself close
“We love you Tyler,” is what they say to me. And they tell me I’m beautiful.
Pause
It was a wonderful night
************************************************************************
This is a moment I have not thought about very often. My body seemed to almost ache to get it out. After it was over, I still jumped about the room. I was so full of love and energy and my body shook with excitement.
This is one of the most important moments of my life; I see that now. It was feeling love for the first time; true, pure, unconditional love, towards that part of me.
Even as I write now I smile with tears in my eyes. I’m fortunate to have people like this where so many do not.
From the first beat I danced, to this one, already I can feel a difference in my body. In the first piece the stillness was almost overwhelming. I had a shell surrounding
38 me, protecting me; a suit of armor that weighed more than 500 pounds. This piece was like moving without it for the first time.
By taking off my armor, not only was I letting my gayness out there for the world to see, but I was also allowing people in. In this beat I was able to feel a level of closeness I never had before. Julie and Sarah (both pseudonyms, like all other characters in this work) were both genuine and vulnerable in their interactions with me. They opened themselves up for me and, in return, allowed me to feel safe to open up to them. It was the sharing of our vulnerable selves that led me to say what had been waiting to be said for a long time; I am gay.
It is a very intimate and penetrative thing to let people in. I use the word penetrative purposefully as it penetrated that outer shell I had learned to live with, the mask I wore to hide who I truly was.
Looking back on my entire life so far, this experience here is the only time in my life where I have been that genuinely vulnerable and felt reciprocation. This is where the work needs to go next and where a lot of the internalized homophobia is reinforced in my mind. I suppose this whole piece is, perhaps for the first time since then, another attempt at being vulnerable and letting people in again.
Parental Disclosure
One last part to my coming out experience is when I told my mom I was gay.
Even to this day I still feel strange about the situation. I awkwardly shift in my body side to side. I feel part of my shell is still up and I need to let it down again, and let my mom in. Rather than use dance to express my story, I’ve decided to write my mom a letter expressing my impression of that evening.
39
Although dance is my primary source of data collection, something inside me moved me to write a letter instead of dance. The importance of this letter for me is that it is a form of communication my Mom will understand and be able to respond to. The letter outlines the narrative of what occurred on that night but also gives a look into the relationship my mom and I have. I did send this letter for me. I needed to know how my mom felt about that night. I needed to be vulnerable to get at those emotions and a letter felt like the best way to do that in this instance. The letter and her response are below.
Dear Mom,
I’ve been thinking a lot lately on my sexuality, and our relationship since that moment I told you I was gay. I still remember it was late and the last day before the end of Christmas holidays. I planned it purposefully so if things went bad, I was leaving the next day anyway. You were in the living room watching TV and dad had gone to bed. I can feel myself pacing back and forth in the kitchen waiting to tell you. I’ve never been more nervous in my whole life.
I came into the living room and I asked you a question. “Mom, I can tell you anything right?” You said of course and looked at me lovingly but also with concern in your eyes.
“I’m Gay.” I told you. Do you remember what you said to me?
“Are you sure?”
I know you love me mom, and I know dad loves me too, but I feel that moment you closed up from me a little. Not to say you didn’t love and support me
40 because you have, every step of the way, but I feel like something happened there.
There was a palpable moment that leaves me hurt and possibly you, too.
It must have been scary for you to hear me say that. To think of the lives of gay men in your generation, the fear for me, it must have been so hard for you to know that your son, too, is gay and that the same prejudice and harm that befell others could befall me.
You also told me “It can be a lonely life”.
Since then, as if some self-fulfilling prophecy, it has been a lonely life. I haven’t been vulnerable with anyone else. All my relationships seem to crumble when I get too close. I run away. I put a barrier up that night and it hasn’t come down since. I want to be honest with you, but more important I want you to be honest with me.
What does it mean for you to have me as a gay son? Maybe then I can discover what it means to have me for a gay self.
I look forward to hearing from you, and know that I love you so much and wouldn’t be the man I am today without your support and love.
Talk soon,
Your gay son,
Tyler
After sending the letter to my mom I was worried. I did not know what would happen or how she would react. Over and over in my head I played out infinite scenarios.
I was scared most of all that she would see the letter as an attack, accusing her for being
41 the source of all my unhappiness, which is not at all the case. When I saw her response I opened it eagerly but with fear deep within my body.
Dear Tyler
First and foremost I must tell you how very much I love you and how incredibly proud I am of you.
I remember every detail of the night you told me you were gay, but I need to back up a bit so you fully understand what was going through my mind. A long time before you told me, deep in my heart I had the feeling that you were gay. This is not something I believe mothers typically think about but there were very subtle signs that made me think that perhaps you were.
When you did tell me, I was not shocked or surprised, but to be perfectly honest, I felt at a loss as to how to respond. I was afraid. I didn't understand. I thought, what does this mean moving forward. How will others react? Shame on me.
So the first thing that popped out of my mouth was I thought it could be a lonely life, but perhaps not for the reason you think. You have to understand that as a parent, there is an unwritten rule to protect your child. I will admit I was afraid others would not accept you and that thought alone frightened me, because I knew you were an amazing, intelligent, caring, and loving human being, but what if all that changed because of one simple fact.
42
As far as you telling me you were gay, I am so proud of you! That would have been extremely hard and scary, but the fact that you trusted me enough to be able to come forward, you have no idea how much that meant to me as your mom. I know it wasn't easy for you to say those words to me and I will admit it took some time for me to come to the understanding that it doesn't really matter one way or another.
All that truly matters to me is your total and complete happiness and I know that you will find your true love and life partner and I can honestly say to you I can't wait to meet your special someone. So my advice to you at the end of the day is to knock down those barriers that prevent you from being completely free with your true feelings. If I have learned one thing in life it is this: be you! Be yourself!
You have so much to offer others, and do not be afraid or self-conscious to let yourself shine. We are ultimately responsible for our own happiness and we cannot
(even though it can be hard some days) let others put us down or judge us. There will always be naysayers in life who will not understand why we do the things we do or are the way we are, but you can't let people's opinions rule your life or happiness.
Simple fact is I love you and you are the greatest son a mother could ever have.
Love you lots forever
Mom
I phoned my mom and we talked. Perhaps for the first time completely open and honest. We talked about her and I, but we also talked about others and the importance this work will have. Not only for us but other parents and children. It is for that reason that I
43 also chose to include her response in the thesis as well, to show this relationship and the importance of communication and openness.
I am eternally grateful for my mom. I cannot imagine how much harder my life would be without her support. So many stories are told of parents reacting negatively and throwing their children out. Studies around internalized homophobia look at the connection between an unsupportive family and the amount of self hate a person develops (Puckett et al., 2014; Rowen & Malcolm, 2003; Walch et al., 2015).
I take my mom’s words with me as I dig deeper into myself; her encouragement, her advice, and her love. Support is an incredible thing in life, and without it this project would not be a reality.
44
Beat 3 – Rainbow Flag Gay Bar
The thing you need to know is, it's all about sex. It's true. In fact, they say men
think about sex every twenty-eight seconds. Of course, that's straight men. With
gay men, it's every nine. Which explains why we're all at Babylon at one in the
morning, instead of at home in bed. But who wants to be at home in bed,
especially alone, when you can be here, knowing that at any moment, you might
see him - the most beautiful man who ever lived... That is, until tomorrow night
(Cowen, Lipman & Mulcahy, 2000).
I have finally come out to my close friends and I am leaving my small town behind. When I first identified this moment as significant, I remember it as a time of discovery, more specifically, the discovery of a new world in which being gay was ok. I finally graduated high school and I was bound for Halifax, Nova Scotia. This was going to be a completely new chapter in my life. The problems from high school would stay behind and I would make a place for the new openly gay Tyler. In my original proposal this moment was outlined as the following: Moving out of my small town and seeing advertisements for LGBT spaces and events gave me hope that perhaps there is a place for me as a gay man. Although it is indeed a story about moving out and seeing advertisements for LGBT spaces, my body brought back aspects of this moment that I had forgotten.
Rainbow Flag
The floor of the studio is calling to me. As I move throughout the room, there is a strong desire to keep both my feet on the ground at all times. It is not a weighted feeling but more a need to remain in contact with the environment I will be exploring.
45
As I sweep my feet across the floor I realize they are sensing the spirit of Halifax. I have just moved here and I don’t know the area at all. Is it safe for me to be gay here?
My upper body begins turning left and right, taking in the sights as I walk down Quinpool
Road for the first time. Stores that are soon to be visited line the streets. I realize that this is the place I will, at least for the next four years, call home.
I’m tingling all over as I’m drawn back to those formative moments in Halifax. The hairs on my arms and legs are standing on end. I realize my feet are now pushing harder into the ground. They have stopped sensing and are now searching. They are searching for a safe space, a place where I can be myself, be vulnerable. The search takes me to downtown Halifax to the corner of Barrington and Sackville. I turn to face the harbour and come face to face with a flourish of colour and fabric. I’ve never seen one for real before. I didn’t expect to see it here, hanging out in the open, swaying gently in the breeze. The colours of the rainbow pride flag are announcing the location of the most well known gay bar in the city. I’m frozen. Here before me is a sign that says to the world that this is a place for gay people to be themselves. A safe space at last… yet there is so much stillness in my body. I cannot move. I cannot blink. All I can do is stare.
I look around the studio frantically to see if anyone saw me staring. I feel like I was caught watching something wrong. If people saw me looking, they will know I’m gay. But
I am gay, right? Yes, I am. I look back up at the flag and the stillness remains. I can feel my shell from high school reaching around me again. It creeps over my skin, covering me with a hard exterior. A safety wall forms… a prison wall… a closet.
I break out of the stare and move around the studio. My feet are no longer brushing the floor. I’m just walking…
46
************************************************************************
I hinted above at the unexpected results of this piece of dance. I had originally planned on narrating my discovery of The Coast newspaper and the section on gay life in
Halifax. My body, however, had other plans for me. Until this moment I had forgotten completely about seeing the gay pride flag for the first time outside of Reflections Night
Club. In my waking mind, it was just a moment in time, inconsequential and unimportant.
My sleeping body brought forth the shock and the quiet battle that raged within me upon seeing it.
I still feel like the narrative above cannot properly explain the precise emotions that were going through my body when I looked up at the flag. First and foremost there was a profound stillness, as if my body was deciding if it should keep looking or turn away.
Hope is what I thought the flag would mean for me at that time. The flag would represent a safe haven where I could finally be myself and be embraced for who I am. Instead, I felt as if the flag was challenging me to be gay. It was a stern voice telling me I had no more excuses not to let my gay self out. Now I was here; there was nowhere to hide. But I was not ready… to be honest, I still don’t know if I’m ready.
Gay Bar
I never intended for the following moment to be in this project but when I finished moving through the piece above, I knew this part of my story had a space here as well.
I’m drunk… again. My newly made friends at university surround me. I’m out and they have embraced me for who I am, or at least who I have shown them so far. My
47 university is having an LGBT night at the campus bar and my friends are here to accompany me to my first ever gay event.
I’m walking around the studio and my hands are twitching. I feel nervous and scared and sick all at the same time. The feeling reminds me of when I was seven and going to my first haunted house. Who knew being gay was so scary?
My friends support me as a gay man and the university supports LGBT friendly societies to hold events. My fears are no longer centered on physical safety; it’s something else. I’m taking slow deliberate steps towards the bar now. I feel the fear come to the front of my mind. My biggest fear is being rejected…
I can still see the rainbow coloured streamers hanging from the ceiling creating a curtain. I have to pass through this curtain. I stretch my hands out and sweep the curtain aside. One foot steps into the club. My other foot stays on the ground behind me. As I walk forward, I feel the back foot slowly begin to peel off the floor until only my big toe is left in contact. With a determined motion, I lift my leg and the foot follows. I’m in, but not quite out.
I look around the room and, again, I am frozen. The same stillness as before but, now, more intense. I feel like I am back on the bus. My shield goes up instantly and I try to avoid eye contact.
I don’t know how to be gay.
All I know is I have been standing in the same place in the dance studio for five minutes not moving and looking at the floor. I bring both hands to my heart and whisper deep within myself, let him out. I even manage to say it out loud but my hands stay over my heart. They drop to the side and the shell remains intact.
48
I feel the eyes of every person on me. I’m overweight. I’m not sexy. I’m not like the gays on TV. I doubt the characters in the television program Will and Grace would invite me out with them, and the boys of Queer As Folk would never take me home and run their hands over my gelatinous and hairy body. I don’t belong here. I’m not sexy enough; I’m not good enough. I’m not welcome here. The judgment from the others begins to hurt. It’s breaking through my shell and I am back on the bus. I go deeper within myself until it is drowned out completely.
My mind is cloudy and thoughts drift by without acknowledgement. I’m not here anymore. I can see myself move and dance with my friends. A smile is on my face as the alcohol guides my body into the robot during Bye Bye Bye by *NSYNC but I’m not here anymore… I don’t know if I ever was.
************************************************************************
I don’t know what the others in that room were thinking when I walked in. They probably never really noticed. Their eyes may not have burrowed into me and perhaps my body size was inconsequential to their night out. Maybe they felt just as awkward as I did. I will never know. All I know is what I perceived. My mind created what it wanted to based on the only information I had about the gay community. For many LGBT adolescents like myself, who don’t have real life role models to demonstrate LGBT relationships, the media provides that window (Bond, 2015; Gomillion & Giuliano,
2011).
In my adolescence, the only two sources of information on gay life were from
NBC’s Will & Grace and HBO’s Queer as Folk. I was searching for examples of how people who were gay lived in the world. Watching these two different sources of
49 entertainment, I began to gather information and create an idea of what it meant to be gay. The two themes that came forth in both sources were the importance of physical attractiveness and the role of gay sex within a gay man’s life.
In terms of physical attractiveness, both programs feature predominantly thin, muscular men. Those who didn’t fit this role were often less successful or side characters.
In both Will & Grace and Queer as Folk, many episodes focus around going to the gym, getting in shape and having a great physique.
“Jack: Remember: No pecs, no sex!
Barry: This all seems so superficial! Are gay guys only about bodies and faces?
Jack: Absolutely not! They're only about bodies--faces you can cover up with a
cute hat or leather hood” (Janetti & Burrows, 2003).
Queer as Folk takes this idea even further. The following conversation is two men talking about unattractive men
“Troy: Fucking losers! They just don’t get it do they? These guys, I feel sorry for
them. I can’t help it; it’s my nature. So out of the goodness of my heart, I have sex
with them, give them something to remember for a rainy day. But it’s never
enough. They’re pitiful. Fucking pitiful.
Ted: I know what you mean… I was one of them.
Troy: What? You’re hot.
Ted: You didn’t think so then. Pride 2002.
Troy: Thought there was something familiar about you.
Ted: Yeah, I was one of your pity fucks. A fact you made painfully clear”
(Cowen, Lipman, Postoff, & Best, 2005).
50
Although there is research on the positive affects that both these shows had on the
LGBT community (Cooper, 2003; Fraser, 2006; Silverman, 2013; Slagle & Yep, 2007), for me, as an impressionable adolescent, these aspects about sex appeal and attractiveness are what came through most. I was learning that without physical attractiveness, I was not being a “real” gay man. No wonder I had such a negative reaction when entering a gay club for the first time. Not only had I learned previously that being physically fit led to being more desired but also that it was a necessity in order to fit in.
One quote instantly comes to mind, which still rings through my head when I think about being gay versus being straight. As an adolescent I believed that this quote below was a true fact about gay society.
“Brian Kinney: I don’t believe in love; I believe in fucking. It’s honest. It’s
efficient. You get in and out with the maximum of pleasure and minimum of
bullshit. Love is something straight people tell themselves they’re in so they can
get laid, and then they end up hurting each other because it was all based on lies
to begin with” (Cowen, Lipman, & Mulcahy, 2000).
It was specifically in Brian’s comparison to straight people that gave it the most weight in my young mind. I took from it that if I was gay, then perhaps this is how I had to operate.
This was the social makeup of being gay. When I entered that club, I pictured many of the scenes from Queer as Folk when they enter a club. The goal was to be hot and get laid. That night I did not feel hot; I felt judged, unworthy, and that I didn’t belong. My preconceptions of what gay nightlife was were from these television shows and directly influenced those negative feelings. It would not be for another year and a half that I
51 would enter another gay bar… and only because I had lost 30 pounds and felt more comfortable with my appearance.
Even now I still feel uncomfortable going into a gay bar. Deep within my mind I cannot escape from the formative understanding I have of gay clubs. Gay clubs still, for me, are not places of haven or for like-minded individuals to belong. For me they are a beauty contest where the hot are rewarded with sex and the unattractive are punished with shame and judgment. I know this to be illogical and false on the surface but, deep down, I can’t help feeling the stares or the pressure to hookup. It is one of the negative truths I have personally constructed through my social upbringing and one I am working on changing.
52
Beat 4 – One Date
Each time I enter the space it feels more and more like home. It reaches out to me.
The instance my bare feet make contact with cool hard wood, I feel the urge to move, to express, and to let it all out.. My body begins to sway and I let myself get taken away with the movement.
My body yearns to turn. Something in me wants to spin. Rotation after rotation, eyes closed and blurred walls. Am I spinning to remember or am I spinning to forget? I move throughout the studio as if looking for something. My arms move strangely. They move in a way I have not noticed before. They are like two serpents that twist through the air making beautiful designs around me but to what purpose? I have no idea.
I focus on my feet. They are more restless than usual. I press the ball of my left foot into the floor and as the heel comes down, I swivel the foot. The heel lands but I am now facing 90 degrees from the direction I was facing. There is something different about today… Ahhhh… I’m not alone today; Tom is here…
I close my eyes
I don’t remember how we met. We were in the same program so naturally we had a number of classes together.
I begin swaying side to side.
A date was scheduled. My first date ever.
I’m hopping around the room in a mixture of excitement and nervousness. Inside my mind I think how wonderful that I have dance to transport me back so quickly. I feel everything as if I was getting ready for the date now. I spin three times in quick succession and land facing forward.
53
I remember we were going on the date after class, and right before the date I had a presentation to give… he was sitting in the front row.
I feel my cheeks burn scarlet. I place my hand on the side of my face and feel the warmth of embarrassment radiate off.
I still don’t remember what the presentation was on. I just had to keep my cool and get through it. After class we walked out to his car and he drove us to the mall. I felt like a girl in junior high. A date at the mall! It was perfect.
I can feel the space around me morph into the mall. Suddenly I feel a penetrative sensation. I’m suddenly aware that I am out in public, with another man, on a date. I slowly extend my right hand down towards my side, my fingers are splayed searching for human contact. I pull my arm in, almost violently. I’m surprised. I try again to extend my hand towards Tom but again something pulls me back. The hard shell returns and I feel the eyes look deeper into me.
I was afraid to hold his hand.
But we talked. Conversation flowed naturally.
I’m aware that I’m turning again but, this time, the revolutions are only ¾ of the way around. My momentum has decreased. My eyes stay open now as I spin, more aware of the room.
He dropped me off at my residence and I hopped out of the car before that moment I’ve dreamt of could occur. My first kiss.
54
The next day we are sitting in class. The large desks we are seated at cover the lower half of our bodies, shielding them from the outside world. He was sitting beside me and I could feel the heat of his body next to mine.
I slide my hand down my leg and remember the excitement.
Soon I could feel our legs pressing into one another. First nothing but a casual graze but as we became more sure of the others intentions, the pressure increased. I felt close, but not emotionally, sexually. It seemed safer and somehow more right, more normal…
And soon his hand was on my thigh; it felt wrong but it also felt like I was finally being a real gay man. The desk was hiding everything from view, even my own.
He slid his hand up my thigh inching closer to my erection.
I’m spinning again, eyes closed. My arms are moving chimerically around myself. The air feels thick. I begin to caress myself. I feel desired, wanted, needed. I have purpose in this moment to be sexy. I want him to see me as sexy and I want to be explored by his hand, and to please.
I moved my hand to his thigh and began to slide my hand towards his crotch.
This lasted all class. I will never know what the professor said but, at the moment, that was fine.
The spinning has stopped. I’m gathering my things and I leave the lecture hall.
My backpack is in front of me hiding my shame. I had still never been kissed.
I throw my hands up high and behold before me a giant computer screen, a conversation is occurring through online chat.
55
Tom: So that was a first for me
Tyler: Me too lol ;)
Tom: Did you like it?
Tyler: Couldn’t you tell? ;)
My friends surround me as we stand around the computer in our dorm room.
They are there to help me say the right thing. Every punctuation mark, every winky face is calculated. I feel lost and confused.
Tom: So are you my boyfriend?
CRACK. It is the only way I can describe what I felt. Fear shoots through my body and I feel myself freeze and break all at once. I’m on the floor. I’m in total darkness with no way of escape. A fit of laughter surrounds me from my friends.
“One date and he already wants you to be his boyfriend? Desperate much?”
They look to me to confirm this feeling.
“I know right.. geez.” I feel trapped but I see a glimmer of escape.
Tyler: I dunno, not sure how serious I am?
Maybe we can just have fun?
Tom: I’m looking for a life partner…
My hand reaches out as I see the words flash in front of me. My hand slams into my chest. It hurts and the sound from the impact hangs on the air. The girls around me are in hysterics laughing. They think he is crazy and desperate. Maybe he is just comfortable with who he is.
Molly pushes me aside and takes control of the keyboard. Figure 6 - Hand hits chest
56
Tyler: You’re 17!!!!!! Have a life!
Tom: What?
Tyler: Never mind I don’t think this is going to work out but thanks for the
date and see you in class.
LOGOUT
We never spoke again. I’m upset and my body feels weak and empty. I realize I don’t long for him as a life partner but as a sexual experience. It was never the emotional closeness I wanted. I was relieved when my friends echoed my feelings.
Sex is safe…
I judged him. The conversation we had was full of judgment. He asked me what I wanted, and I realized all I wanted was sex. It was fun groping under the table out of the public view. No one needed to know. It wasn’t safe holding hands in the mall where everyone could see.
I wanted to use this clever kind person to fill some need I had, just to do it, be part of the club, to not be that person who had never been kissed. All of my friends at university had had sex. It didn’t matter if he loved me or wanted to be with me, it just mattered that he loved my body.
This was the first man I hurt.
I’m sorry Tom. It wasn’t fair.
I am judging myself, right now in the present. This conversation with myself is full of judgment. Judgment seems to seep into these places of exploration where guilt and shame rest. I am sorry for what I did to Tom, but I am also sorry for what I have done to myself over these years. Guilt, shame, and judgment are all oozing out of the above
57 paragraph. I hold myself closely and I gently kiss my shoulder. The judgment needs to stop. It is the only way in which the healing can begin. I realize this now.
Hands snake around me, that’s all I want, arms twisting around me. Holding me, but not holding me. No, not getting anywhere near where I am.
My feet plant into the ground and my heels swivel changing my direction. I don’t know what I want. I want a boyfriend, but I only want sex. At the last moment my body changes, slipping out of their grasp and away, always getting away. Never being caught.
I just feel empty inside. I used him. But deep down inside I did want to have a boyfriend, and I think,
Long pause,
I don’t know what I think anymore.
************************************************************************
For me this moment is an accumulation of a lot of themes that have already been presented in previous beats. Pennies on the Bus taught me that being gay was wrong. I held that feeling within me as Tom and I walked through the mall. I felt the wrongness in what I was doing. It was so striking that I didn’t even allow for the possibility of a first kiss because someone might see and therefore know I was gay. This is in direct contrast to what occurred under the desk. I was able to be sexually expressive because no one could see. It was secret and therefore it was safe to be gay. It was like in Pennies on the
Bus when I am dancing in my room, I could do and be anything because it was secret.
The same principle applies here.
58
In Rainbow Flag Gay Bar I discussed my preconceptions of physical attractiveness and the importance of gay sex as a construct of a ‘real’ gay man. In this instance, under the table, I was being sexually valued for the first time in my life. I felt the need to explore my sexuality and felt the pressure to engage sexually with Tom.
These two themes come together in the Internet chat scene to essentially end the relationship. I pushed my preconceptions of the over sexualized ideal of a gay male on him. I judged him for wanting more than sex, for wanting a relationship. I only did this once I felt threatened with the possibility of a public relationship. I was scared of being with him emotionally. My friends around me also backed up my ideas of how relationships, or lack thereof, are the norm.
Internalized Homophobia (IH) has been linked to challenges in relationship formation for gay men. Friedman (1991) states that IH leads to a “lack of entitlement to give and receive love, resulting in irrational efforts to undermine the relationship; and projection of the devalued self-image to the partner who is then made the scapegoat”
(p.488). In this instance with Tom, I projected my negative feelings of being gay onto him and judged him for wanting an intimate relationship. I was acting like the others on the bus, hurling judgments and shame for wanting something that they believed was wrong.
The theme of vulnerability is also worth mentioning here as well. I was not willing to be vulnerable with Tom. When it came to the end of the first date, I did not allow myself to be kissed in public. I ran away. I put my shell up to protect myself from the perceived dangers of being gay in public. In direct contrast, it is clear I had no problems with physical intimacy as demonstrated by the consensual groping that
59 occurred during class. The difference was in the level of vulnerability. To be kissed in public meant I needed to lower my guard and be vulnerable in public in order to share a kiss. To be pleasured under a desk did not require vulnerability, as I was very aware it was secret. Here is where the connection can be made between IH and vulnerability.
For me to be vulnerable, as shown in Beat Two - Coming Out, I need to lower my guard and feel safe. In order to feel safe I need to let go of my IH. One of the reasons I was able to be vulnerable with Julie and Sarah was because the event occurred within the confines of our hotel room. The fear caused by IH was diminished. The key here lies in seeking vulnerability in situations where IH would be more prone to provocation, i.e. public spaces. This is where the fear lies, and this is where the growth can occur.
The other thing to mention is also the role that physical safety plays in the fear of being vulnerable in public spaces. For me, in high school, the lack of physical safety was very real.
We had a small raised lump of dirt, completely devoid of grass due to all the people that stood on it called “The Hill.” It was the smokers’ area of our school. Because of this all the cool kids (bullies) would hang out here on lunch breaks in order to smoke.
Lucky for me, it wasn’t near any doors and I could avoid it… during the warmer times of the year. When winter began to creep in, and the days got colder, the staff working in the office often complained about 2000 students coming in and out of the doors. It was letting all the heat out and the cold in. In response to this, the front doors were closed for students to use. Instead we were forced to use the side door, which was right beside “The
60
Hill.” Now leaving for lunch was no longer an exciting time of day, but something I dreaded.
As I exited the building, I could see them all up on their hill, looking down on me.
First they would shout names, “Fag,” “Queer,” FatBoy,” but when I did not respond, the snowballs started coming, and amongst them, ice balls. Physical safety was a definite concern. I use to try to find excuses not to go out for lunch. I was lucky because shortly after this administration change forcing us to use the other doors, the by-law preventing smoking on school property was passed and they found another spot, far away from the door and once again I felt safe.
As seen in Pennies on the Bus, and the story above, high school was not a safe time for me physically or emotionally. Although the snow and pennies did hurt me, it was always the names that hurt the worst. Sticks and stones can break my bones but names will forever hurt me.
Because physical and emotional insults were always tied together, the fear of emotional pain is just as real, if not more terrorizing than the thought of emotional fear.
Within me there exists a tension between IH and instinct. I have learned that the world is not safe for gay people but, at the same time, being closed off and within my shell of protection prevents me from living a full life.
For me now, living in Halifax, the fear of both emotional and physical harm based solely on my sexuality is very low. Perhaps, the fear is becoming irrational but it is rooted in instinct. The challenge lies in realizing where the true danger lies and what are merely
61 aftershocks from a turbulent youth. When the differences can be more easily disseminated, only then can being gay in public spaces be comfortable and easy.
62
Beat 5 – The Bathroom at Cheers
“There’s this illusion that homosexuals have sex and heterosexuals fall in love. That’s
completely untrue. Everybody wants to be loved.”
- Boy George
Since things ended with Tom, I haven’t been on any other dates. There is someone though who seems to take up space in my thoughts - Kyle. I smile at him when I walk by his dorm room and he smiles back. Is he gay? The question gnaws away at me slowly. Am
I making things up or is something there, something that only I see? He is tall and broad shouldered. His thick chest hair pokes out of his tank top. I picture myself burying my face into him as his big strong arms wrap around me. I want him to hold me. The need to be held… there is importance in that.
Stillness in my muscles, but not in my body. I
feel like a wound up spring ready to release,
coil by coil into the air. Almost surprising
myself, I find my arms shoot straight up and
arc around back to my sides. My arms are
straight and my hands are like blades as I
slice through the air. I can feel myself
changing the room. As my arms circle up and
Figure 7 - Straight arms over, my right leg shoots forward and my foot points. My big toe is the only part of my foot on the ground and I feel intense friction as I drag it around myself, burning a semi circle of dead skin cells into the floor. This
63 happens in a matter of seconds. The cap has been released and I can no longer hold the energy with stillness.
I’m turning and pushing, shoving air and bending the space around me to fit my needs almost as if I am challenging its very existence to yield to my desires. I am strong.
As I come up into a turn, I feel my whole core tighten and I hold my balance as I begin to revolve, twice, three times, four; the world whizzes by. I feel powerful.
It’s aggressive. I’m breathing hard. It’s loud and almost animalistic. Grunting breath. I’m showing dominance like some beastly mating dance. I am the biggest man, the most virile. The movement is surprising to myself. I no longer feel in control. The desire to move, expend energy, and take up the most space is the only importance here.
Arms fly in all directions. I leap, I spin, and, suddenly, I stop.
My arms lower to my side and my breathing comes back to a normal rate and decibel level. My right hand makes contact with the skin above my heart. I do not feel love in this touch, only pressure. It releases as my hand extends out and down until it begins to caress my thigh. My hands now grope blindly at my body. It’s rough and its passionate, but it is just the thrill of touch, nothing more.
I smile at the camera
Looking back on the video I feel uneasy watching this. I’m not sure who this is or what part of me has been let out. The smile is full of darkness and desire. It stares into the lens and I feel uncomfortable. The smile knows something that I don’t… Figure 8 - Smile
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I’m unstoppable; I am all-powerful in this moment. I laugh out loud and the sound is foreign to my ears, as if someone else is making the noise. I feel drunk on this sensation, this power. I reach out in all directions like everything is in my grasp. My hands skim the surface of my flesh, my shell. It feels erotic but it does not penetrate deeper into my person. This power only is interested on what is on the outside. It needs to have control, to manipulate, and change to its will.
I look over and I see Kyle standing there. I begin to approach him, a swagger in my step. I know what I want, and I will have it. As I approach something pulls me back, away from him. As I walk forwards I am conscious of the tightness in my arms as I flex my muscles. I am a man, I am gay, and I want your body…
A huge exhale.
************************************************************************
I’m shocked. I don’t know who or where this part of me came from but it is surprising. Somewhere deep inside me this beast has been lurking and finally he is allowed out. The desire to touch and to be touched was almost addictive. The moment was trying to quench my insatiable thirst for the feeling of another caressing my skin. It was definitely a sexual experience but it was cold, unfeeling and greedy. I didn’t like what I saw in the video. I felt like… I felt like one of the guys on the bus… exerting dominance to feed the ego. It felt wonderful but at what expense? At who’s expense?
I suppose what I felt like, perhaps for the first time, is a man. “Gay men are left out of the configuration of ‘male,’ ‘men,’ and the ‘masculine’ altogether” (Dowsett,
Williams, Ventuneac, & Carballo-Diéguez, 2008, p. 124), so this was a feeling of inclusion for me. When I say ‘man’ I am referring specifically to my personal socialized
65 construction of a man; powerful, aggressive, sexual, and lustful. These were the kind of men from my childhood that would so kindly point out the ways in which I was not a man.
“Males who adopt or exhibit traditional feminine attributes such as soft voices,
emotionality, limp wrists, swaying hips, or any number of so-called ‘sissy’
behaviors were and are contextualized as ‘queer’ and/or ‘gay’ by mainstream
America” (Poole, 2014, p. 280).
By that logic presented above, then a man who is perceived as the opposite of those characteristics is straight or exhibiting masculine traits. Even looking back at the descriptions of my movements from above it is clear that they are in opposition to this feminine version of gay.
My breathing was loud and aggressive, not soft
The only emotions displayed in this dance were power and hunger
My wrists were strong; my hands were described as blades
Looking back at the video even my hips did not show any sway. They
formed a ‘straight’ line from my shoulder to my knee.
I’m so hurt by the realization. I begin to shake as I slosh the thoughts around in my mind.
Still deep down within me is this what I think is right? Is this what I think a man is…?
This is what was needed to fit in when I was 15 years old in a rural town… now 27 years old, looking at my past, I come to find that my body still craves that feeling.
The representation of this positive masculine feeling through dance was erotic and sexual. While I was dancing these emotions it was not just a portrayal of masculine characteristics, but it felt sexual. I have learned, through experience, that in sex I can gain
66 that feeling of strength, lust, and, masculinity. Perhaps that is why anonymous sex became such a big part of my life. It filled that hole and allowed me to live out a fantasy in which perhaps, I am not gay…
Migdalek (2014), points out that every day our bodies are subjected to what he refers to as choreographic regulation. These regulations are brought forth from our own environmental circumstances and often create a ritualistic way of moving, a way that is learned and repeated, often gender driven. The above piece shows this male dominant regulated choreography coming through. It wasn’t until using dance and pushing into the moment further that I could see this learned movement come through.
Even on social phone apps specifically for gay men, such as Grindr, there is a constructed reality that exists on what it means to be a man. Similar to Migdalek’s (2014) idea of choreographic regulation, Butler (2006) also puts forward an idea that gender is performed. That performance is regulated by what the external society demands in certain spaces. Grindr is one such space where these masculine ideals of sex and beauty are upheld.
“The chief criticism for many is that Grindr is an exclusive, shallow space filled
with brusque and transactional interactions. It is a boys’ club, where becoming a
member is to adhere to conventional standards of beauty, i.e., the bodies found on
magazine covers and in pornography. The most prized men are youthful-looking,
white, and thin, lean, or muscular. They proclaim themselves “masc” or
masculine-acting and prove it by wearing baseball caps (Woo, 2015, p.63)”.
The question for me again becomes how do I, a slightly overweight, semi effeminate dancer, fit into this ideal of a man in the surroundings in which I operate. I am
67 sad to say, I own a baseball cap, which I often use to play out these “masc” fantasies. I even call it my straight guy hat. This is yet another area in which society has shaped my understandings of the world.
************************************************************************
Kyle was my first… the first man who touched my naked body, who held me close against him, but also the first to push me, literally, into a world where sex was dirty, secret, and non committal.
I’m swaying back and forth with my eyes closed. I’m no longer moving with the same intensity as before. It’s more sensual now, more seductive. My arms snake through the air and my body bends to and fro. I’m in a club, I have just turned 19 and am celebrating my birthday. Kyle is there and we are both giddy, thanks to a few drinks.
I shift back and forth and I can feel him behind me. I arch my back so my ass is prominent. My hips slink side to side fluidly. The animal side in me is back as I try to attract a mate. Soon he is up against me. He grabs onto my belt and pulls me close into him. I feel incredible; I’m wanted and I’m valued... But almost as quickly as it started, the pressure on my hips releases and he is gone. He is dancing with a girl and I am left alone and rejected.
The energy seeps out of my body and I stand in the empty dance studio. I want to leave. I have failed again. I want to go home and hide under the sheets. I convince my friends to leave. Before we do I head to the bathroom. As I stand at the urinal I am aware
I’m not alone. Kyle is beside me.
I’m thrown backwards into a vacant stall. The ball of my right foot presses hard into the floor as it arches. My back bends and my arms fall slowly out. I’m being kissed
68 for the first time. Something stirs within me and I notice my breathing becomes audible.
The movement accelerates, aggressive and rough. He takes off his pants and I fall to my knees and begin. His fully erect penis and his moans are signs I’m doing it right. I look up for reassurance. I need to please him.
Security Guards find us and we exit the stall. I’m not even embarrassed. His hand caresses my inner thigh in the cab ride home and soon we are in my room. Our naked bodies are pressing against each other and suddenly, a knock on the door. My friends don’t know we left the club. I look into Kyle’s eyes as he lies on top of me. Fear. He puts his hand on my mouth and tells me not to say anything. We have to keep it secret. Soon he finishes and leaves. He doesn’t want to stay. Kyle and I, whatever we had, it’s over. I’m alone again, naked, sweaty, and crying.
For the next year and a half of my life, I will continue searching for someone who won’t leave after sex. Man after man lay with me in my bed but they never stay. Am I not good enough? Am I not doing it right? Maybe this is how it is. Something I need to get used to. Eventually I learn how to let them go and, eventually, I learn, to leave too. It’s easy to leave. It doesn’t hurt. I can convince myself.
The next summer I will sit down on a picnic blanket in a park with a new friend.
We have only known each other for a month but we are getting very close. She is beautiful and incredibly kind. We talk about relationships and she asks me if I am seeing anyone. All I can do is cry.
************************************************************************
In this beat, a collision of ideas and meanings is occurring. As explored earlier in
One Date, media has taught me that to be a ‘good gay’, to be blunt, I must be attractive
69 and alluring to men. This is most easily verified through having sexual relations with men.
On the other hand, in this beat we can see a desire to not be gay coming forward. I have used sex as a way to live out a heterosexual fantasy, even without a baseball cap, because it is through sex that I feel like a traditional man.
What struck me as most surprising is that in order to be an ideal gay man in my mind is to actually be straight. This notion is further amplified by my internalized homophobia. Every time I have sex with someone I get to feel like a man. The rush I experienced during my dance at the beginning of the beat is relived. When I look to other sources of gay role models, I see them engaging in similar activities therefore backing up this understanding of gay men and sex.
When Kyle pushed me into that stall he made me feel good. For perhaps the first time in my life I felt glad that I was gay. Is this only because deep down I felt straight?
“Men tend to react with change in attempting to conform to what they believe others want and society prefers” (Lanzieri & Hildebrandt, 2011, p. 279). My media role models tell me to be attractive and sexually active, society tells me to be straight, my body tells me to feel like a man. Through anonymous sex, I can accomplish all of these things.
It is the aftermath of my first night with Kyle that causes the pain for me. After the heavy breathing subsides I am still alone. Although the outside has been satisfied, the small gay boy inside me is still left alone, and rejected.
From the very first beat I experienced the pain of pushing down my gay self. I actually felt it in that dance studio. Now I come to find that every time I use a man for his body and leave, it is the same pushing, the same pain. Ultimately in the end I am hurt,
70 and I wonder if those I leave feel a similar hurt. I’m afraid still, afraid to let myself out. It comes back to vulnerability.
During sex I get to put on a different shell. Not the one I used sitting on the bus, afraid of the others around me, this is more of a mask of raw masculine energy. I see the faces of those who were on the bus in my reflection. It is still a shell and it hurts…but at least I am safe right? The question I have to ask myself, and perhaps answer is, which is worse, the pain of bearing the mask or the potential pain of not.
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Beat 6 – First ‘Love’ Sam and Craig
Today I feel like I am dancing as an empty shell
I turn, arms outstretched
Rise and then coupe fondue body roll down
Arms reach forward and arabesque
Lackadaisical turns
Dance words, they mean nothing like the movement means nothing
I’m afraid of rolling on the floor. Perhaps afraid isn’t the right word. I can’t find the energy to actually go to the floor. I’m standing here, spinning like a dog chasing his tail, but I don’t have the HEART to roll to the floor.
Finally I do and then lay there still
No movement, body heavy
Fetal position
Disappointment, detachment, slow walking, deadened emotions
I reach out to the right, weight in the right foot, shift weight to left foot and rise up onto forced arch, right arm reaches up and over, waiting, stretching, turn out leg and weight into forced arch, hard, pushing, waiting, LEAVING, push weight and Figure 9 - Arabesque and away rise up into arabesque
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and away
I met Sam in December.
Why do I look so confused? As I watch myself on the video after I find it hard to identify with this person in front of me. He seems so forlorn, so hesitant. Something is holding him back.
I feel like I’m breaking inside slowly, each part of me is disconnected; I am not a whole person today.
So we went on a date, we watched a movie in my room, we both wanted to have sex, but I stopped it; I finally wanted something more, I wanted to be appreciated, and I wanted him to care about me.
As I move forward, my foot barely comes off the ground. I feel weak.
I want to rise, but my body is pulling me inside from all directions, restraining me.
Punishing me, for what I did to him
Silence in my movement
Tears come to my eyes
Dejected
I wanted to love him, to feel anything besides the horrible emptiness that is inside me.
I bury my head in my hands and scream. My arms drop lifelessly to my sides. My whole face falls.
As I watch the video it is like I am watching a different person. I just want to give him a hug… I really just need a hug right now.
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I told him I loved him.
Arm reach out and then pull back in
How could I, how can you truly love someone and hurt them so much…?
Maybe I don’t love myself at all; I’ve hurt myself so badly…
I need to forgive myself.
I take two steps forward and SLAP, my fist makes contact with my chest and shoots out forward.
I haven’t experienced physical pain from myself before.
Like a moment in a horror film, I jumped. I had to re-watch it 3 times, each time feeling the pain ripple through my body anew. It’s horrible.
I instantly recoil at my actions. I hold myself crying.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry. Figure 10 - SLAP
I reach up trying to clear the air, to think back on Sam. The problem goes beyond him. It is rooted and entangled within my soul. It is being questioned here and my limbs stir.
My foot brushes forward, reaching, and searching, but before it can find what it is looking for, it snaps back, toe making contact with knee. I bring my leg through to the
74 back and my weight shifts with it. I won’t allow myself to advance. I’m holding back… or being held back…
I don’t stop, I keep trying, keep pushing but my leg continues to land behind me.
I left for the summer to live in New York City. His eyes were stained with tears as I drove away; mine were dry. “I’ll see you soon”, I reassured him. He knows, and he’s sad. I know, too, and I’m not.
I met Craig there. It was my first day and my colleague wanted to introduce me to someone I had to meet. She pulled me across the busy conference room. He was facing the other way.
Craig,
Like in a movie he slowly turned to face us
A red and white striped tie and a blue blazer
He smiled
I melted
He told everyone he was straight, except me.
I thought it was all right, like porn only three-dimensional. He was beautiful and it was secret and wrong. I liked that about it. It made me crave it.
The night Craig and I first met, I was showering and heard a metallic clink.
Through soap and haze I saw lying on the floor of the shower, the necklace Sam, my boyfriend, had bought for me. It was crumped and broken lying wet and exposed at the base of some dirty NYU shower stall.
75
I feel a bit like that myself as I lie on the floor of the studio.
It’s almost as if I can feel the water rushing over me, mixing with my tears. I don’t deserve to get up after what I did. I thought that necklace breaking was a sign that it was ok to be with Craig. Little did I know it was something fragile and sacred within me breaking. A wound that still has not healed.
As I read over the words above, a similar feeling washes over me when I was writing about what I did to Tom. Guilt and shame mix with the water that I feel pouring over me and it is that which prevents me from getting up. I feel Tyler the researcher, reach over to Tyler, the dancer, as he lies on the floor. I extend my hand and connection is made. I am covered in goose bumps. I pull against the dead weight on the floor and I help him up. I hold him. It’s okay Tyler. You don’t deserve this. You are a good person. I love you.
I said yes to Craig. The day after we were together he cringed at my sight. What we did was wrong. This can’t happen again; it’s not natural. I corrupted him, steered him away from women, he said.
It’s my fault
It’s my fault
It’s my fault
I’m screaming this in the studio
IT’S MY FAULT!
I broke up with Sam, I told him we just drifted apart. I didn’t deserve him. I didn’t deserve to be happy. I don’t deserve to be happy…
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The muscles in my arm begin to tighten. My elbow lifts as if an unseen string is pulling it skyward. Slowly my arm begins to unfold and reach upwards. I look up and try to extend it further. I feel a stretch in my side and shoulder. It feels nice.
I don’t know how to love somebody else, because I don’t know how to love myself.
As I watch the video I’m surprised by what I see myself do. Again I begin to push my foot into the floor. The ball of my right foot pushes into the floor and I rise up onto a forced arch, right arm reaches up and over, waiting, stretching, I transfer weight to the left, turn out leg and weight into forced arch, hard, pushing, waiting, Leaving, I push my weight down and rise up into arabesque
and away
************************************************************************
Nobody Needs to Know
One of my favourite musicals begins to come to shape in my mind, The Last Five
Years (Brown, 2002). It’s a story about a meeting of lovers, a marriage, an affair, and a parting. The lead character, Jamie, has an affair. In the song Nobody Needs to Know, he tries to convince himself that what he did was ok and that nobody needs to know.
The song begins with simple piano chords, trudging out a melancholy march. I feel the weight of the music. I dance as though I’m not there; I’ve left my body and am watching the scene.
The chorus sounds out
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“Hold on, don't cry yet I won't let you go”
I spin and dodge myself in these moments. I’m listening more to the rhythm, not wanting to fully delve deeper into the piece emotionally. I begin a series of turns, each one faster and faster. I change the pivot point after each one, travelling the turns across the space until the momentum reaches its maximum. I let go of my center and spin 4, 5, 6 times. I face the front.
“All right - the panic recedes All right - everyone bleeds All right - I get what I need”
My right hand is over my chest and reaches out in front of me, palm still facing my sternum. As if in slow motion, I feel my hand rotate so that the palm is facing down.
Before I have time to think, the left hand is on top and I’m pushing. I’m pushing and it hurts. It hurts almost more than the first time I pushed like this. That time it was trying to restrain a part of who I was, my gay self. Now, I’m doing it because I know the pain it causes. I want to hurt; I need to pay for what I did.
I’m hunched over myself and I can’t stop shaking. I try holding myself but it feels insincere. I don’t deserve to love.
“And nobody needs to know”
But somebody does need to know. It’s clear I am not alright but I am going to be.
I breathe deeply as the wave of emotions come up and spill out of me in all directions.
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It’s too much for me now. I need help and I know it. I pick up the phone and dial a friend, a lifeline. We talk and I feel more whole again, more complete. The wound is open but it is not being left to fester and rot, it is being left now to heal. Slow and painful the procedure is, but it is a healing.
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Beat 7 – One New Message
The count of eight is drawing close to completion. As I count in my head, one two three four five six seven eight, I notice that I place emphasis on certain numbers. One two three four five six seven eight. Each beat has a weight to it, an emphasis. Counting these in my head I could hear the seventh beat, almost see it in choreography. The seventh beat is the largest, the hardest. Shame surrounds this moment in my life but it needs to be told. I’m in the studio and I am ready, for the last time in this project to go back. Deep breath. One two three four five six…….
I begin by standing still. I can feel the hesitation. I’m worried about what it will be like to relive this moment. I’m worried about feeling the way I felt about myself back then. Even though there is more work to be done, I have come so far from then.
My eyes are closed. I put my hands over ears and scrunch up my face. I’m blocking out the sound of my inner self and pushing down my values; it doesn’t matter.
My body bends at the knees. I feel again like I’m back on the bus. My inner self is now completely encased in the thick shell of protection. I’ll need it where I’m going.
Armed with my shield I rise up onto my toes and I reach up above my head. Soon both hands are over my mouth. I can still taste his dick. It’s sickly sweet, the soap he must use. It feels limp in my mouth and the pain rushes back. My hands drop to my sides.
Defeated
I open Grindr on my phone. Grindr… is an app that allows the users to chat with people in their area. The app shows a list of people by proximity, the closest at the top. A
80 person is a square on your screen with a picture.. or not. He never did have one. I look in my inbox. One new message.
Him (I never learned his name): Do you want to make some money?
I turn my body to the side. My arms reach forward pulling my body with it. As I fold and bend, my left leg reaches back. They pull me in opposite directions and soon I’m splayed out flat like a tabletop. My supporting leg begins to shake. I step forward. I choose to move forward. Crumbling Warrior.
Me: Maybe…
My foot points behind me, still trying to reach for the past but I will it and my foot brushes through until it is straight and pointed directly in front of me. I step and my heel turns sideways. I transfer my weight. I have made my choice.
Him: I like to make sexual bets with people; it turns me on. I have this friend on
Grindr; you have to seduce him.
My arms reach out either side of my body
if you follow my instructions, I’ll pay you.
Me: What did you have in mind?
I cover mouth speaking through my hands
Him: Oral sex,
My hands reach out in front of me
but prolonged.
then to the sides stretched wide
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Follow my instructions. If you do it right, I’ll pay you; if you do it wrong, I won’t.
All I can do now is stand still…Deciding I put weight into my right foot. The heel leaves the ground and my foot goes into a forced arch,
Him: If you do it three times I’ll give you 1000 dollars.
My arm bends and my hand grabs at my shirt where my heart is. The elbow straightens and my arm is now out to the right of my body, my fist closed tight. My fingers begin to open…my heart falls to the floor.
Me: Ok, I’m in.
My arm lowers to my side.
BOOM, I stomp on the space where my heart is.
After being with his friend two times he made another offer.
Him: If you do it 10 times, I’ll give you 32,000 dollars.
I was already feeling bad about it. My hand makes contact with my leg and rises up my body. When it reaches my chest it can feel the empty space and my body crumples over.
Me: No, I’ll do it one more time and take the $1000 and leave.
Him: That’s not an option anymore.
My hands are outstretched either side, legs apart and firmly planted. He cannot be moved.
It’s 10 or its nothing,
Him: You can do it.
My right leg goes into retire and my whole body contracts over.
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Him: I believe in you.
The word believe, seems to go on forever. As it plays in my head my leg extends forward and draws half a circle on the floor slowly. Contract again. Both hands cover my face.
Me: Ok, I’ll do it.
I’ve been with him six times so far.
Me: I want out, I can’t do it anymore
Him: You can do it
Me: I’m starting to get hurt, it’s painful and I don’t want to do it anymore
Him: Come on man, you can do this; you are almost there. Six down; only four to go.
I thought about the money and that’s all I wanted.
Me: If I stop now, can I get some of the money?
Him: NO! It’s everything or nothing.
With that money, my student loans would be gone. It hurt so much, I feel weak.
My shoulders begin rolling up and back slowly, and then they slide down and begin another roll. The rotations get faster and faster.
The energy is coming from my chest, which now rises and falls with each shoulder roll. Figure 11 - A smile on my face
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Me: NO
1 finish the roll and I look up, arms reaching down. A smile on my face; I’m somewhere else. I look down with tears in my eyes and again,
Me: no
I finally step backwards
After all the years I was pushing gay Tyler down… I just can’t believe it was him all along. He cared for me even when I hurt him. He never said anything as I pushed him down deeper and deeper inside until it hurt. But when someone else was hurting me… he protected me, he told him “NO”!
I can’t do it anymore; it hurts too much.
Him: This is suppose to be fun, I don’t like it when people get hurt
Me: I’m hurt.
Him: You’re almost there.
It’s the last thing he ever said to me. I never responded, I feel weak, broken, and a little bit (or a whole lot) dead inside.
I hold myself tight,
Thank you. Thank you for being there. After all these years, after what I have done to you. You saved me.
My right hand begins to push down. My left hand rises and slaps it away.
************************************************************************
Out of all the outcomes, out of all the possible ways this could end, I am shocked.
It was the hurt little gay boy inside me that saved me, that stood up and said “NO.” He loves me. He loves me so much that he pushed me aside and said, “Enough.” I don’t
84 know what I’m feeling now. This part of me that has been beaten and repressed all these years stood up for me. It is love. I can feel it, it’s warm and it’s comforting. I hug myself right on back.
Snowber (2012b) brings up the idea of bullying the body. We bully our bodies when “they are not the right shape, size, or injury occurs, and we do not romance them back to a place of care”(C. Snowber, 2012). This whole study is full of moments of body bullying. Guilt, shame, and self-hate are only some of the ways I have hurt my body throughout my life. Whether it is standing in a nightclub wishing to be skinnier or more muscular, or the guilt and self-harm I experienced when dancing with Sam and Craig,
I take two steps forward and SLAP, my fist makes contact with my chest and shoots out forward. I haven’t experienced physical pain from myself before.
Like a moment in a horror film, I jumped. I had to re-watch it 3 times, each time feeling the pain ripple through my body anew. It’s horrible.
I instantly recoil at my actions. I hold myself crying.
I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m sorry.
Perhaps this realization is a step to learning to love myself again… truly and deep down. This final moment glimmers ever so faintly. Perhaps this is, as Snowber says, the beginning of romancing my body back to a place of care. To love myself is to love my body, and it goes both ways.
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The inclusion of this beat was one in which I debated over for a while. I was unsure of the reasons why I wanted to include it. Was it necessary for the research? Did it need to be told? In the end after much consideration I know it does need to be told. What happened to me was not okay. I was vulnerable, and I was taken advantage of. Even after trying to stop it many times, I was encouraged to keep going. “You can do it”.
This story needs to be told because it happens, in all sorts of ways to all sorts of people. Power and vulnerability dance with each other. It is a dance of helplessness and violence. In the end for me, it is this moment that made me see I am worthwhile. It was a stark realization that I am better than this and I was lucky enough to take charge and fight against the unfairness. Not everyone is that lucky, unfortunately, and the sex trade amoung vulnerable young gay males is a very real thing (El-Bassel et al., 2000; Gwadz,
Clatts, Leonard, & Goldsamt, 2004; Lankenau, Clatts, Welle, Goldsamt, & Gwadz,
2005). It is for these reasons that I have included this. So others may be able to see a way out, as I was lucky enough to.
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Chapter 4 – Holding the Movement
Seven moments. Seven beats. They are a string of movements representing parts of my life. Thinking about them all now, they run together. One beat flows into the next creating a dance. Each piece separate, yet inherently connected. The movement is fast and free flowing. It is hard to see where one beat ends and the next one starts. The connections are foggy. It is these connections, these ties that I am most interested in for this chapter of the thesis.
Before the research and dancing began, I set out research questions, guides to help me summarize and make sense of the journey I have embarked on. Below will be those summaries and from that, the goal is to create a clearer image of the why and how I understand myself.
What does it mean for me to be gay?
This is certainly a large question to start with. For me, even after all the exploration I have done, the first thing that pops into my head is still the basic definition of the term. Being gay is a form of sexuality and it is an attraction from one person to another of the same sex. For me, that is what it means to be gay. Although the answer seems simplistic, that is not really answering the question I asked myself. I asked what does it mean for ME to be gay, not what does it mean to be gay.
The first word that comes to my head is hurt. For me, to be gay, means that I am scarred. There is a part of me that was tortured, that was cut, pushed down, kicked, told over and over again that I was WRONG! THAT I IN MY EXISTENCE I AM WRONG!
With that, comes inevitable pain that certainly has not gone away. The greatest example
87 of how that pain continues to manifest itself within my body is the pushing movement that emerged first in Beat One – Pushing Hard.
The first thing that was so troubling about this pushing was how unexpected it was. Reading back over the section, even there I note the surprise. That surprise still is present. It is a surreal thing to do, to come to terms with the amount of pain that I have caused myself. How much of that homophobia was successfully internalized and how much still exists today. The first step towards healing is finding out the source of the pain. I have done that through this work.
The second part that was surprising about the pushing was the intensity of that pain. Having experienced it now, I don’t think I would have been able to comprehend the harm internalized homophobia can actually have on someone. It was not until I felt it that
I knew how damaging it was to me.
So yes, for me, being gay means being scarred. It means being a little damaged and a little scarred. It also means being resilient. Within this piece, not only did I take note of the moments of darkness and hurt, but also I appreciated so much of my own personal strength and the support of everyone around me. From the support I was given in Beat Two – Coming Out, from both my friends and my mother, to the love I showed myself in Beat Seven – One New Message. Looking back on these moments was hard but holding them again with my body really makes me see the strength I had/have within me.
Being gay is not about being damaged. It is not about hurting inside. Being gay, for me, is about coming back from that. It is about looking at one’s self in a mirror and admiring those scars. I am who I am today because of what I have been through. Yes, society taught me time and time again that who I am is wrong, but through this study, I
88 have seen the moments where I knew deep down, despite the internalized homophobia that I am alright. I am a fighter. I am gay.
Is being gay a part of my culture?
I still struggle with the word culture. By its own right culture can mean a myriad of things. For me personally, culture is a home, a place in which you belong and are a part of, something you can share with a group of others. Community and culture are linked. In my mind, gay culture and community still revolves around pride parades and going out clubbing every night. Being part of that community, even after completing this study, is still something that feels foreign. Beat Three –Rainbow Flag Gay Bar, Beat
Four – One Date, and Beat Five – The Bathroom at Cheers all point to moments of how I came to understand gay culture. This ranges from experiencing a gay club for the first time and the feeling of judgment and lack of sexual appeal to having my first sexual encounter be concealed from everyone. My first experiences of the gay community were not open, positive ones for me and I am still carrying that with me to this day.
Going to a gay bar today is still a very similar experience for me as it was ten years ago. Although now more slender and physically appealing, I still feel the judgment.
Whether the judgment is external or internal has still yet to be determined although a combination of both is most likely the case. The important part is that I feel like I don’t belong. I am being negatively affected by this preconception that is grounded in these moments.
I suppose if I am being truly honest with myself, I am a gay man, and I say that with pride, but I still think being gay is not a part of my culture. Being gay is my sexual orientation but it does not define me as a person.
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This feels uneasy for me. I don’t know what this means. Is it a good thing, a bad thing, or even a thing at all? Is this discord between being gay, and not being a part of gay culture or community negative? Is it unhealthy? More questions. More work.
Although the reasons behind this answer are vague and shapeless, I would have to say that being gay is not a part of my culture at this point and time in my life.
How have these moments affected me?
The word that comes to mind is viscerally. Each of these moments were intense in their own way. While Jacuzzi at Prom was a wonderful loving sensation, others were not but all were deeply emotional. I had doubts when first entering the studio if dance would be able to take me where I needed to go, but in the end I trusted dance and in return, I was transported time and time again back through my life, and I was given a chance to look back in a very real way.
Some moments left me shaky afterwards, while some left me encouraged. All of them left me tired. What was most surprising about this project was the physical component of the work. There was more than one occasion where I had to change my timeline so I could make space for self-care. That may have meant taking a day or two off or it may have meant talking to someone about some of the emotions that were coming up.
I do feel very privileged to have been able to look back on these moments and see that part of my life unfold again. The effect this entire project has had on myself is overwhelming. Each time I read through a moment I see a new part of the story, a new glimmer of hope amongst the darkness, and a deeper understanding of myself. It gives me
90 hope that this study will encourage others both in and out of counselling to examine their own lives in a way that is meaningful to them.
What have these moments taught me about the world?
This question is grounded in my social constructionist orientation. Each of these moments reveal not a truth about the world, but a constructed truth that the world, society more specifically, has taught me. In other words, it is how I have been shaped by these moments.
Beat One - Adolescence
In this beat, I was taught that it was not okay to be gay. Society told me that who I was, needed to change. This has been discussed already but what it also taught me was that that I needed to hide. It taught me I needed to go to any extreme to push down those feelings and it was that pushing that caused the pain. This was the beginning of my internalized homophobia and it still dwells within me today.
Beat Two – Coming Out
This beat taught me the power of love, friendship, and acceptance. I learned possibly the most important lesson, which is that there are people in the world that support me. I am not alone. It is within this beat where I draw so much strength. It is a moment I must always hold with me. When moments of internalized homophobia seem to creep back into my skin, it is these moments, which I must cling to, to remember the support I have in the world and that I am loved. I am okay.
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Beat Three – Rainbow Flag Gay Bar
It is here where I learned about gay life for the first time. My first experiences in a gay club shadowed by my preconceived notions that were built from television shows. I learned the importance of sexual appearance and manliness. I learned that until I was attractive and desirable, I had no place being gay.
Beat Four – One Date
This beat is more demonstrative of those truths I had already learned about the world, and about myself rather than a teaching of new ideas. It shows how the lessons I have learned in previous beats come together in one situation. It shows the struggle of wanting a boyfriend but also wanting sex with no attachment. The quickie under the desk makes me feel sexual but in the end I feel like I used him for that sexual pleasure only. It was fear that drove me away from him. The internalized homophobia bubbled up and expressed itself as a rejection of a gay relationship and an acceptance of “straight” male activities - aka sexual acts.
Beat Five – The Bathroom at Cheers
My first sexual encounter taught me about gay sex. It was hidden in a bathroom stall and I was left alone afterwards. It brought me to adopt those ideals as well. Even to this day, I still find myself sleeping with someone and then leaving afterwards because it is easier. I don’t have to worry about the relationship aspects or love; I can just fulfill my duties outlined by prescribed masculinity and pat myself on the back for getting some. It
92 is the aftermath which hurts the most, the loneliness that follows, but I have still learned that even that is better than the alternative relationship.
Beat Six –First ‘Love’
This was my first real relationship. At the beginning I thought it was a triumph over the lessons learned from the pervious beat. I can exist in a relationship. That was the case until meeting Craig. Infidelity and the need to be seen sexually were two themes here but the main piece that struck me was how much guilt I am still holding onto from that moment. The lesson I taught myself was that what I did was unforgivable and the guilt and self-harm still trickle through all my attempted relationships to this day. Here is where the healing can occur. It is by addressing this guilt, this shame, so that, as Snowber
(2012b) puts it, I may begin to romance myself back to a place of self-care.
Beat Seven – One New Message
As challenging and as painful as this piece was to do, it has given me the most hope and inspiration. What I will take away from this is not what I learned about the world or what events and ideas led me to get involved in the first place, it is what got me out. In the end, it was myself that saved me, the gay part of myself. That part that had been pushed down and beaten up was still strong enough to turn down a large sum of money in order to live by my values. It was through this moment that I really saw my resilience shine through and that is what I will take away most from this beat.
Where is strength pulled from when all seems dark?
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In looking back over the seven beats, there is a clear source of strength, both externally and internally. The external strength is the power I draw from those around me, who love and care for me; my friends and my family. External supports are a vital part of any coping strategy and I am so grateful for the ones that exist in my life.
In terms of internal strength, I am not sure exactly where it comes from, but it rests within me. I can feel it when I dance and I can see moments of it shining throughout this work. On my left wrist there is a crescent moon. It was my first tattoo and to this day one of the most important gifts I gave myself. I originally got the design off a tarot card I enjoyed. It said the moon is a card of intuition and a reminder to trust your instincts even when the road may seem darkest. It was a reminder to always look to that inner strength.
I came across another explanation of the moon tarot card while writing this chapter.
The Moon is a psychological card of projecting fear into your present and your
future, based on past experiences. The images, thoughts and feelings that you
have repressed over time cause inner disturbances that are becoming
overwhelming…To remedy this, you need to go through a purging process
whereby deep memories are released... These newly discovered resources may
confuse you but once they are brought to your awareness, they will no longer
haunt you (Biddy Tarot, n.d.).
All I can do is smile as I rub the dark crescent shape on my wrist.
What do I know about myself through these moments?
The first thing I know about myself through these moments is that I still am scarred inside. Although the moments of pain have passed, their shadows and the lessons
94
I have learned are still ever present. I now know that these experiences have shaped how
I have come to see and understand the world, and with that comes a greater understanding of my actions.
I know now how much I have hurt myself in the past. Prior to embarking on this journey, I thought most of the pain and suffering was from the external environment.
After doing this it is clear that the majority is from within. I take away this information so that I may be kinder to myself. The guilt and the judgment are evident throughout these beats. I need to be more caring and understanding of these moments.
Most importantly I learned that I am not fully proud of who I am. There still is dissonance within myself, and this project is only the beginning of learning to understanding that. The main thing is that it is now out there for me to see in full light, out of the shadows. It is only by calling out these shadows into light that they can fully be understood and eventually fade.
Model Behaviour
In Beat One I mentioned the model of homosexual identity development, which
Rowen & Malcom (2003) came up with in order to synthesize various other stage-based models. The model is repeated below. As the thesis draws to a close I think it is an interesting opportunity to look at what I know and have found through the lens of this model. The comparing of the beats to this model is in its own right a dance. How do my raw experiences move against or with a model? Is there meaning to be found in this dance between experience and model?
The stages are as follows:
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An Increased Acceptance of the Label of Homosexual as Descriptive of Self
The entire thesis rests on the very fact that I label myself as a homosexual and although still it does not resonate as a part of my culture, I can say with absolute certainty that it does indeed qualify as a description of who I am. I am Tyler, and I am gay.
The Development of a Positive Attitude Towards this Identity
Through the various beats my body has told me that the development of a positive attitude has been challenged throughout my life and still is to this day. From the body shaming tendencies of Grindr to the nights of meaningless sex, this is an area into which I need to look more deeply.
Although this project has unearthed some of the darker points in my life, I have seen the resilience that being gay has led me to develop. I have seen the support and the love from others. This is a work in progress and the development of a positive attitude has begun with this thesis.
Increased Personal and Social Contact with Homosexuals
To this day I still do not have many gay friends. The relationships with the lovers
I have had are no longer there and my list of friends still is composed primarily of women. This is an area which I feel also could be explored more richly and warrants that exploration but for now, this is where I stand.
My internalized homophobia is not just directed at myself but I believe it is also the reason which I have not formed close ties with other gay men. Before this study, I knew about the self-doubt and fear of my own gayness that lingered in my core but I know now that it also exists for others and is most likely the cause for the lack of connections with other gay men in my life.
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A Growing Desire to Disclose One’s Sexual Orientation
Again this thesis is testament to this desire. It is important that people know I am gay when I talk about my research. It is an integral part of it and the shame I had about it when beginning the journey has dissipated.
That being said, I will not share my identity with everyone. The fear of rejection, or even potential physical harm, still exists and I still have the right to disclose my sexual orientation only when I feel comfortable and safe.
A Synthesis of Homosexual Identity with Overall Self-Concept
I feel that this stage will be complete when all other stages are complete. I am on my way and it is through this study that I was able to acknowledge and begin to deal with my own internalized homophobia. More work still needs to be done in overcoming this but I now know the direction in which I would like to go, not only with further self study but also with my life.
Where is there more work to be done…
The title of this work was very carefully chosen. It is not a definition of my sexual identity. It is not a model of my sexual identity. This piece of work is an exploration of my sexual identity. I have chosen moments important to that identity and have fleshed them out with movement and words. They now lie before me on the page to see. There is still much more work to be done.
The road to self-understanding is long and winding. Exploration is the first step and with the completion of this work, I have taken that step. After that, there are many areas that get left unresolved. My body has let these moments out and no longer aches to release, but now it yearns to dance with these moments more carefully, to explore each
97 idea more fully so that a more thorough understanding of my place within gay culture can be found. That is where the work needs to be done.
I am still left questioning where my place within gay culture exists or how to understand if my sexual appetite is whetted only by a desire to fulfill a heterosexual masculine ideal, or if I am simply experiencing sex shaming. These are two possible areas of self-study that could continue.
This work also has applications outside my own personal realm. To explore other gay male lives using dance to create their narratives would be fascinating to see the similarities and differences. How do others experience the world and how have varied upbringings shaped their understanding of gay culture and their place within that.
This question, with its multiple parts, must lie dormant for now until it can be examined further through arts-based research or other methods. For now, I end the work with the final beat, the moment that ends this count of eight so that I may move onto another.
The studio is waiting and for the last time in this count of eight, I stand there, take a deep breath and begin to move.
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Chapter 5 – Beat Eight Pas de Deux
“If you can’t love yourself, how the hell are you gonna love somebody else?”
-RuPaul Pas de Deux noun a dance for two people, typically a man and a woman
Origin: French, literally ‘step of two (“what is a pas de deux - Google Search,” n.d.).
Pas de Deux is French for "Step of Two" and is what partnering is called in ballet.
By dancing with a partner the lady can jump higher, take positions she would
never be able to on her own, and "float" about the stage as she is carried by her
partner. A partner allows a man to extend his line and show off his strength (the-
ballet.com, n.d.).
Typically a man and a woman… even in dance, what I trust most, still there is entrenched ideas of heteronormativity: the male dancing with the female; the male lifting and supporting the female. For me, pas de deux is a connection between two parts.
Whether it is a man and a woman, two people of the same gender, or, like this entire project, two parts of the same person.
This whole piece has used dance to explore my past but also in that exploration it has been a dance. It is a connection between the two parts of me. There is Tyler, who I know and understand on the surface. It is the Tyler that sits with me now and everyday and every moment. There is also my gayness. It is a part of me, yes, but not a present part. It has taken the sidelines and been pushed down within me and denied the opportunity to dance. Society has denied me the opportunity to dance with this part of
99 myself. Heteronormative rules dictate that it is wrong. Pas de deux is between a man and a woman.
This study has reached its conclusion and, for the first time, I extend my hand to the gay part of myself. It needs my support; it needs my touch and my connection. I need it, too. This is the final beat, the end, and the last wavering part of this count before my life moves on. There is no one right now I would rather dance with other than myself.
June 23, 2016 University Dance Studio
A white sign is posted on the black heavy door. Closed until June 25th. I can’t wait that long. It has to be today, my body needs it, I need it to be today. I head to the office and talk to the man working. I push and push to use the studio and finally he caves to my request and leads me down the hall. He opens the door and hanging across the entrance is a bright band of caution tape. He rips it aside and motions for me to enter.
There are new floors here. Shining wood, almost gleaming in the dim lighting of the studio. I have been dancing here for nine years and no changes… until now. I close the door behind me and take a deep breath. It smells slightly chemical still and the air is heavy. I take off my shoes and make a connection with the new floor. A thought comes into my head.
I will be the first person to dance on this floor.
I have the honour of moving with the room for the first time. Each footfall is special and important. This moment is special and important. Today was the day to do this; my body already knew that. I’m starting to listen. My body is covered in goose
100 bumps as I drag my pointed foot across the shinning grain of the wood. I push my feet into the floor and rise up onto my arches.
There is a part of me that I have been very hard on. That is what I have learned the most from this project. I have pushed him down and told him he is not important.
Today is where that stops. My body and mind seem to come together, and I flip through my music library; I know exactly what songs I need to use. There are two songs that are very important to this moment and I, songs that guide the process of, as Snowber (2012b) puts it, romancing the body back to a place of care.
Reprise - Marcelo Zarvos & Peter Vronsky
Someone once played me this song and I instantly thought it was my personal theme. It’s romantic and sweeping. It urges the soul onward and soars above everything. When times are looking down I play this song and set my body free.
The music urges anyone to move. As the
Figure 12 - A hand up violin sweeps over me I see my
partner, my gay self, lying on the floor. I reach down for him, hold
his hand and pull him up beside me.
My partner is with me now and, as if in a classical ballet, my feet
are pulled together, heels touching in 1st position. I place my hands
around my partner’s waist and we bend together. I feel him grow in
strength underneath my hands; as he pushes off the ground I lift him Figure 13 –Lift 101 higher. I hold up my gayness now for everyone to see and I can feel him smiling for perhaps the first time ever.
The music intensifies and I find myself leap off the ground and say “straight” and then “gay”. The movement no longer attaches itself to what those words meant at the beginning of this study. Now they are just words, but the meaning in the movement is of pride and love – whatever word I say – straight or gay.
The emotions blend together in this piece as I whirl around the room. My hand reaches out and my gay self and I blend and move around and within one another. For the first time I feel close to him and proud to dance with him. I am him and he is me. We are gay.
He Lives in You - Mark Mancina and Jay Rifkin
My body is so full of energy. The feeling of dancing with this part of me is still rolling through my body. I feel my gay self within and without. This music is different than the previous song used. The beat is driving and powerful. The piece before led my body to reach out and connect. This piece leads me to celebrate.
My movements are full of energy and strength. It is a different kind of strength than before. My body moves into shapes that are reminiscent of other pieces. I feel again my arms straighten and my chest expand as I go into an arabesque, but this time it is not to show my masculinity or straightness but to show my strength as a person, as a gay man. I am strong.
Figure 14 - Strength
102
There is also recklessness in my body that was not there before. The movement feels
unbridled and passionate but somehow different. I’m relishing the
movement, drinking it in, as opposed to letting it lead me to a place
of digging. The digging is over and now is the time to bask in what
has occurred. I am grounded in my heels as my arms spread open as
Figure 15 - Make space big as they can. I am taking up space here and I feel exposed and free all at the same time. A smile is on my face and energy is rippling from my head to my feet. The work is over for now and the final beat, this pas de deux is a celebration of what
I have learned.
I extend my right hand out and I feel the urge to push again, but this time my hand is slapped away. I explore this more by trying again and again to push but my body won’t let me. I am done pushing and it is time for us to just dance together.
The rest of the dance spins and whirls by me but what sticks most is the happiness that emanates from me, and through me. I can
feel the music coming to an end. A pose begins Figure 16 - Resist pushing to form in my muscles. I feel each tendon
tighten and move my body into the familiar shape. My feet turn
out as ballet training comes in. My chest lifts and my arm extends
over my head.
A final classical pose.
An ending.
Pride. Figure 17 - Pride
103
************************************************************************
Eight beats, eight moments. It is funny to see my life broken down into eight defining moments. Each beat distinctive but also one of the same. This count of eight has now ended, and what better way than with a classical pose, pride shining through. I said at the beginning of this project that I am not fully proud. I don’t think I quite understood what that meant. I do now. Perhaps it is only when we become fully proud that we realize what it is like to be less than.
I have said before that this is not the end. I have no doubt that internalized homophobia will try again to surface and there will be times in my life where I will try again to push that part of me down. This project is a remembrance of what happens when we let that happen. I leave this now with a call for everyone to fight that urge to push down parts of yourself. Instead, love those parts, discover those parts and move with them, not against. Out of all my dancing I have experienced nothing more beautiful than dancing with myself. Be kind to your body, listen to your body, and give it time to heal.
Guilt and shame seep in and creep in. Use movement to force them out.
Inhale….
Exhale…
I push my feet into the floor under the desk I’m typing at. No one can see but I can feel it push back.
All I can do is smile.
104
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