What defines a movement? What makes something alive, and of the moment? I awoke this morning with these things on my mind.
Some of you are following my graphic novel This Gay Life (www.thisgaylife.net), in weekly installments. When I began the series I was nervous to draw, type or write the word “Gay” every week. It had me asking questions: is it obnoxious to self-identify as gay over and over again? Does this let people in, or does it shut them out? Is it embarrassing? More importantly – is it interesting?
The excitement of working through my story (semi-fictionalized but grounded in my history) gave me the courage to do something so “Gay”. I found that the more I challenged myself to be truthful the better the comics became. As I distilled my experiences onto “paper” (I compose on a Mac) I slowly realized how common my feelings and ambitions actually were. I wasn’t documenting anything revolutionary; instead I was showing the pains and trials of growing up. Yes, I am recording my little slice of gay history (sorely needed in this holographic age) but I am also retelling the universal story of becoming who you are while slowly piecing together who you are not; writ small, the story of self-acceptance.
Alack! as they say in Shakespeare. After 2 Seasons and into the middle of the 3rd that initial thrill has become hard, hard work. On many days I wonder: if the thrill is gone, why continue? I have struggled to keep it going. I do have those moments, when the drawings and story transport me, but then it is back to the grindstone. Do I really want to grind these out? Was this my intention?
Well, I guess I do. Every time I am convinced that I should quit, the story calls me back. I am never too sure that it will all be cohesive (even though the episodes are carefully plotted) but perhaps this blindness is one of the things pulling me along. I am also conscious that I am recording my bit of gay history – the 80s into the 90s – because one day it may be important for someone, somewhere to make a connection with this period of gay bars, compact discs, Mtv and the AIDS epidemic. Back then this potent mix felt so fresh and modern. The music was so good. The art was so good. There was a lot to fight for. Of course this was just another decade defining itself.
Nowadays we are past it all. With social media it’s Flash! Flash! Superstars, one and all. No small town gay bars, no smalltown boys and girls. My fear is that we’re all forgetting where we’ve been. So I write This Gay Life. I continue.
By now the word doesn’t seem so Gay anymore. Gay men and women are being absorbed into the mainstream. As a result our particular struggle, language, culture, and outsider status seems to be vanishing. I guess it is only natural – the struggle moves on. Watching this season’s best new show, Transparent (which tells the story of a straight father of 3 grown kids transitioning from male to female) has shown me how the ideas of straight, gay, and queerness can evolve into new and fresh patterns. Yes! Here are people like me still looking for love, honor, and acceptance. Here are characters like me but not just like me. And as they tell their stories perhaps I become a little wider, a little deeper, a little more compassionate. The revolution is indeed still on, but it won’t be televised. It’s streaming on Amazon.
(This Gay Life premieres a new episode each Friday.)
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