I only found out about this title because it popped up on my newsfeed. It is certainly not the kind of book I would stumble upon in my local vanilla bookstore, so thanks to my Goodreads friends for their consistent forays into the weird and wonderful!
I had just finished a book about Jeffrey Dahmer, probably the epitome of a ‘bad gay’, but curiously he is not included here. That points to a fundamental problem. With a title like ‘Bad Gays’, you’d expect a juicy rundown of a rogues’ gallery of horrible people who just happened to be gay. Well, yes and no. The problem is with that second part of the title, ‘A Homosexual History’.
It all begins as expected when the authors question why Oscar Wilde’s legacy endures as opposed to that of “the Machiavellian, anti-Semitic, and louche” Lord Alfred Douglas, or ‘Bosie’ as he was fondly known. They continue: “…[W]hy do we assume that Wilde’s life and attitudes shaped the track record of the project of homosexuality better than Bosie’s?” That phrase ‘project of homosexuality’ immediately raised my hackles.
The authors state that by examining the lives and sexualities of a range of “evil and complicated queers from our history”, the book “investigates the failure of homosexuality as an identity and a political project.” Note the conflation of ‘evil’ and ‘complex’, probably a half-baked attempt to explain what Lawrence of Arabia and Margaret Mead (incidentally the only woman here) have in common in terms of ‘badness’.
Below is the authors’ attempt to define their notion of ‘failure’:
The failure, however, of mainstream, actually existing white homosexuality to enact liberation and its embrace instead of full integration into the burning house of the couple-form, the family unit, and what we might hopefully call late-stage capitalism is real, and it is arranged on three primary axes: first, its separation from and fear of gender non-conformity; second, its simultaneous appropriation of the bodies and sexualities of racialised people and denial of those people’s full humanity, political participation, and equality; and third, its incessant focus on the bourgeois project of ‘sexuality’ itself.
There is a lot to unpack in that statement from the Introduction, and I am unconvinced that the book lives up to its premise. For one thing, it is difficult to deduce what Hadrian and Pim Fortuyn, firstly, have in common and, secondly, how they contribute to the so-called failure of the homosexual project.
I am aware that this book is based on a popular podcast, but therein lies its greatest weakness. The individual chapters are entertaining enough, if not offering anything new that even a casual student of gay history is likely to not already know. The heart of the book is in the above statement, and the authors seem to do a lot of unsuccessful shoehorning to come up with a unifying hypothesis.
What would have seemed an obvious approach is barely addressed, except for a stock statement in the Conclusion that “we are not just the protagonists, but also the products of history”: How do the authors themselves fit into the Great Homosexual Project, and how do their own (invariably privileged) positions in terms of class, wealth, sexual choices, politics and history influence their ultimate selection of ‘bad gays’. After all, there are only 14 listed here. Surely you could come up with a completely different argument by selecting another, diametrically opposed bunch of gay idiots.
There is value to the argument that the leaders of the so-called ‘gay movement’ “were often not working-class or people of colour, but instead members of the emerging bourgeoisie who sought to assign positive values to their sexual acts within the prevailing value systems of their time.” Yes, Stonewall was a protest by marginalised drag queens. If you look at progress since that tipping point, especially regarding the treatment of trans people, the path has not always been on the straight and narrow. And the resurgence of right wing attitudes and general extremism and intolerance globally is of huge concern.
However, while the authors rightfully point out that the Great Homosexual Project has “failed to live up to its utopian promises of liberation” – a statement that clearly is going to read differently in Africa or the Middle East than it does in the US – it is a bit of a leap to claim that homosexuality itself does not exist at all outside of the white picket fences of a fiercely controlled and regulated social construct.
The authors conclude, rather alarmingly, that “The history of homosexuality is a long history of failure – failure to understand of ourselves, failure how we relate to society, and the failures of racism and exclusion.” They unpack this broad statement a bit further:
It is not always so easy, especially when subjects are marked by whiteness and other forms of power and privilege, to neatly separate the good from the bad, the right from the wrong. The answer, though, is not to simply stan our heroes and shush up about their flaws and faults; rather, it’s to understand how people have made and been made by history, how and why they have failed, and how and why we might succeed.
That is a welcome, if cautious, note of optimism in an otherwise pretty dismal and dour book. It seems contrary to their idea of history straitjacketing or pigeonholing the present that the authors quote a seminal text from 1977, a completely different world in gay years. This, of course, is ‘The Faggots and Their Friends between Revolutions’ by Larry Mitchell: “Since the men are always building as many empires as they can, there are always one or two falling and so one or two places for the faggots and their friends to go.”