Some might argue that the use of such terminology suggests a desire for a more masculine male or, perhaps, a more feminine female. Granted, some homosexual people don't fall into the stereotypes of man and woman, or masculine and feminine, that the media both idealizes and spoofs.
Let's look at the evolution of the most successful, gay-oriented network television shows of all time: Will & Grace. The title cast features a gay male. At first, there was a great deal of opposition to the idea until we met Will. He wasn't effeminate. His voice was even and deep. He walked like a man. He talked like a man. Obviously, he was a man. But according to whom?
As the series progressed, his wacky friend and neighbour Jack became an audience favourite. Jack was effeminate. His voice was uneven and higher pitched. His wrist was more than a little limp. And the audience loved him. And we loved his partner-in-crime, Karen – whose alcoholism and drug use arguably mirrored another stereotype of the gay community: if it isn't a sex partner, it may as well be a chemical dependency. According to the pre-Will & Grace mainstream media, the gay community was little more than a drug-induced harem of STI-infected sexual deviancy. Queer As Folk anyone?
But I've gotten sidetracked. As the series progressed, Will became more in touch with his gay self and so, too, did his mannerisms. He drank a bottle of water with his pinky extended. He squealed when he was excited. He wore women's jeans and sought out the perfect pair of shoes to go with his attaché. Will evolved into the publicly-embraced gay caricature that was epitomized by Jack.
His voice was still reasonably masculine - until he got excited. But the network found ways to being out the Jack in Will whenever they could. I surmise that the Nielsen families liked to see the gays they recognized - the evil, twisted gays. You see there is safety in familiarity. Even when that safety comes from a perceived danger.
If you are/desire a masculine male, say that. If you are/desire a feminine female, say that. But requesting or suggesting a "straight-acting/looking" person is little more than self-loathing and internalized homophobia. Because we must ask ourselves: what is "straight-acting/looking?" I know heterosexual men who care more about their hair and clothing than some homosexuals that I know. I also know some of the most feminine lesbians I ever expected to meet. I'll be honest, I fell victim to the expectations that the media stereotypes propagate. Are those heterosexuals who fall short of the male/female idealized archetypes "gay-looking/acting?" I believe their heterosexual romantic activities would negate that suggestion. Does a desire to appear well-groomed and maintained a sign of femininity? Or is it just a superficial desire to appear well-to-do? It is the connotation that an assumption of heterosexuality is the definition of manhood or womanhood.
Yes, there is a metrosexual term that came to bear during the Queer Eye For the Straight Guy craze a decade ago. Five gay men, whose pop cultural know-how turned around the dress, decor, and grooming of the typical jock, accomplished little else but suggesting to the world that feminine men are two things: gay and fabulous. But that is connecting fashion and cleanliness with sexual proclivity. And the two are almost entirely separate. As I recall, South Park commented on a gay resistance to the metrosexual appearance because it has caused gaydar malfunctions. However, this amusing episode that mocked the metrosexual still underscored the assumption that all gays are Jack/Mr. Garrison/Carson Kressley.
I suppose that a large part of my issue came from a moment when I was called a homophobe for speaking out against the overt sexualization of the gay stereotype (I had the audacity to suggest that a Pride parade should be more than drag queens and seniors in leather chaps). I am assumed to be heterosexual because I do not personify the gay stereotype. It is ironic that some of my students assume I am homosexual because I correct them when they use phrases such as "That's so gay" in the classroom. As an educator I want my students to see gays as more than stereotypes.
I support Pride because of what it started (a Civil Rights movement) and as what many communities have allowed it to become (an expression of unity, a reminder that the fight for equality for all isn't over, and a family-friendly reminder that the LGBTQ community is more than the bedroom). There is the need to define the other if only to define ourselves by our difference from the other. But the worst part of it is when that definition diminishes ourselves by assigning more importance to the other than to one's own uniqueness.
As I have recently been reminded, education is the foundation. This is my method. What's yours?
