I see I read the version with the more appropriate subtitle!
This is a beautiful, passionately written exhortation for gay men to love themselves more and take better care of themselves.
Gay shame is something I guess I'm still dealing with. Maybe we all are. Even as I wrote this review I was like, "Do I get to talk about it? Will people mind? Will they judge me?" And even yesterday at my filmmaking club I had a weird feeling when someone brought up the fact that I had a husband. There were new members from Turkey, and I scanned my brain for any info of how not cool it is to be gay in Turkey and whether or not that "too early" reveal of my gayness might have scared off great filmmaking collaborators. Like, I'm so sorry my soulmate and I love one another so, you theoretical versions of people from a country I know nothing about.
I guess this book reminded me that in an ideal world this wouldn't be an issue. Meanwhile I'm trying to navigate the realities of living in the actual world. It's true that in Norway the culture is accepting of gay people, because of their almost aggressive assertion of equality amongst all peoples—but the Turkish guys had only been here two months, turned out. I've been here eight years and I still don't know the language, so just how rapidly can you expect people to adapt to new cultures? (Googled LGBT in Turkey: it gets a yike from me.)
Nobody I know works harder than me. If I'm awake I'm working on SOMETHING. Everyone is like, How do you do it? Well, it's mostly because that's when I feel most alive, is when I'm putting myself to use, and I like to do it in various different capacities, often all at once. But is part of that a niggling, "See? See what a valuable member of society I am? What worth I have? What good I do, in spite of that aspect of me that you take issue with?" Yeah, I think it's a little implied. Why should I have to prove my worth like that? That attitude doesn't assume equality. If equal, I should get to piss about as much as everyone else seems to. If we're all equal, not even a gay serial killer should be a slight against our kind, right? There are plenty of straight ones, but nobody's like, "Don't be straight!"
I almost feel like saying my hard work is "gay privilege" because of the free time I have, while lots of my friends and family are having kids now. It's sometimes levelled as a talking point against gay people that we can't make kids. But you won't believe this: I have all the same machinery that a straight guy does!! And I, like he, might decide I do or don't feel like having kids! No, I can't make a kid that is half-me, half my partner—but is that the best kind, really? If you're arguing from a standpoint of "what life is about" and "societal worth", we should probably all be adopting these days anyway. Since gay people probably adopt more, maybe we're better, huh? You're lucky I decide to act like we're all equal, eh?! (Also, that attitude of, "You're lucky I'm treating you equally" that I sometimes come across? Not real equality. If you're acting like you have a power you are choosing to relinquish, and I don't...)
Can we push the debate beyond that pass-the-joint thought experiment where the world is gay and therefore humanity comes to an end? Like, gay people know how reproduction works, you know. We could make more people if we felt like it? Who knows how we got in this situation where everyone is gay, because it’s not a phenomenon that seems to naturally occur beyond like 5-10% of the population, but as soon as we started having kids again, they’d more likely than not be straight, no? Setting aside how many philosophers have made the powerful argument that consciousness is a mistake anyway and we should let ourselves die out, you know? Why is making kids so great? My point is: I am RSVPing "No" to your baby shower :P
I like to think there is a little bit of radical subterfuge in my filmmaking club. I don't know what my Iraqi, Polish or Syrian members think of me, for example—maybe it's fine but I don't want to go there, really, why bother?—but I have made a lovely community at the club from which they benefit. That's pretty cool, and about as political as I can get, really. But I've always thought the strongest political statement any one person can make is by living authentically. If you show the world your truest self, and act like who you are and what you do matters and is valid and has value, you go about life passively implying everything you believe in, and people who accept you have to accept that. And this book will certainly help people achieve that for sure.
Anyway—Matthew Todd is not surprised at the higher rates of low self-esteem in the gay community. It wasn't all that long ago that (inserts obvious example of homophobia we're all well aware of) after all. It's so much in living memory, still. It affected Todd himself. But it's getting better. Slowly. And it will get even better if readers take Todd up on his challenge, to love and look after themselves and those around them. A message no one could take issue with, and which is that much more powerful because of Todd's use of himself as an example, and how passionate about the cause that he obviously is.
Look after your wee selves, everyone. You are all so loveable <3