Excerpts From Chapter One: “No Fems Need Apply”

“To be homosexual is to like the ideal of sex. Homosexual men love very masculine men, and I am not a masculine person.”

Jaye Davidson, Actor

It is a sparkling springtime afternoon in the heart of Gaytown, USA, that tony little section of your city where--by some marvelous and terribly convenient confluence of geography, affluence, urbanity, or simple safety--gay men come out to play, to see and be seen. It’s a special, all-too-brief season, a time of year when winter’s chill is not yet a distant memory and warm sunshine feels like a novelty, something to be savored before summer wears out its welcome.

Strolling into the park that serves as an ad hoc gathering place on days such as this, you spy men of all shapes, sizes and ages “out” and about, the more confident among them doffing their shirts to show off all those hard months working out since last summer; now it’s time to soak up those first good rays from above, UV index be damned.

That’s when you spot him. He’s a tall, well-muscled Adonis posed up on the lip of a marble fountain, wearing shorts, sunglasses, and not much else. You can’t really believe your eyes; he looks for all the world like one of those young men you find only in the pages of an underwear catalog, or sitting high up on a billboard above Times Square. They don’t really make guys like this in the real world, do they? But here he is, in the flesh. And what flesh it is...

You circle over so as not to appear too anxious, all the while
giving your best introductory phrases a mental once-over. Beautiful day, isn’t it? Or maybe: Wow, have you been working out a long time? I’d love to have a body like that. Well...you’ll surely think of something.

Soon you’re within striking range and gathering up your courage, and just when you’re this close to pouncing, his friends appear, Starbucks frappucinos in hand. And that’s when your intended suddenly jumps up and fairly screams with delight. You stop in your tracks and stand there off to the side, unnoticed, taking in the scene. The lean body is still there, in fact he looks even better now that he’s standing fully upright and you see the shadows cast by ample pecs and tight abs that don’t suggest a six-pack as much as the whole freakin’ case. There’s even the flash of a gorgeous smile, and a glimpse of bright, wide-set eyes behind those Ray Bans...but now you’re seeing other things, like the fluid, theatrical motions of his hands as he talks, the toss of his head that can only be described as girlish. And the voice. It calls to mind that old expression: He opened his mouth, and a string of pearls hit the floor.

You are somewhat dumbstruck by the transformation, wondering just how it is your Rhett Butler became Scarlett O’Hara in the space of a second. And you are also struck by the fact that your mental woody has pretty much gone with the wind. Make no mistake, your boy is still a vision, but that’s all he is now. Lovely scenery, like the green trees and the bright white fountain shimmering in the sun on a Saturday afternoon.

Is that an unrealistic scenario? Not really, judging from the
conversations I’ve had with scores of gay men for the better part of the last several years. When presented with the tableau above the majority of those I’ve talked with say they’d probably take a pass, rather than make a pass. “I’d like to think I’m a little better than that, but if I’m going to be honest I’d probably walk away and keep looking,” admits one young man, who tells me he had in fact experienced a similar scene in an Atlanta nightclub not two days prior to our conversation. “I just like masculine guys, and guys like the one you describe totally turn me off.”

“I know it sounds shallow,” says another, who describes himself as a little “queeny” sometimes, usually when he’s out with friends in West Hollywood. “And I know it sounds bad, especially coming from me. But I like my men to be more masculine than that. I simply refuse to date anyone more glam than I am.”

If you’re nodding your head at this admittedly frivolous, yet undeniably commonplace illustration of the phenomenon I’ve dubbed “sissyphobia” you’re not alone. Conversely, if you find yourself shaking your head in disgust at the sheer narrow-mindedness of someone who would dismiss you simply because of the way you speak or move, you are not alone either. We are talking about a peculiar rift that runs through the gay male community, a divide between men who might be deemed “straight acting,” and men whose style and mannerisms run more toward what we could term the Quentin Crisp School of Homosexuality. While the two tribes are not exactly ready to go to war, it would be wrong to assume there’s anything approaching more than an uneasy peace in the valley.

Now certainly in my interviews I have run across those who
maintain neutrality; they don’t seem to notice or care much how stiff the wrists around them are. I’ve also encountered a handful of guys who tell me they find effeminate-behaving men comforting to be around. “Effeminate guys can be quiet, nurturing, often kind and rarely mean,” says Russ, a 36-year old marketing executive in Manassas, Virginia. “They can be shy, very polite and easy going. What’s so bad about that?” Others tell me they find the prospect of a fem guy rather exciting. One older gentleman suggested in place of this project I should instead write a book with the Oprah-esque title Sissyphilia: Fem Boys and the Butch Men Who Love Them.

Still others are intrigued by the opportunity an effeminate man might seem to present. “I’m from a very small town,” says John, a 20-year old student in western Maryland. “There are, like, no gay people around here. If I see somebody I’m pretty sure is gay from the way he acts...well, I figure, finally! Someone to hang out with.”

But those examples are by far the exceptions. The loudest voices I hear come mainly from inside two opposing camps, the first comprised of gay men, some of them quite closeted, who identify themselves as “straight acting” or “straight looking.” The second includes gay men long out of hiding--if ever they hid at all--who not only wonder what the fuss is all about, they fiercely resent the implication that anyone might tell them the “proper” way to behave. Skirmishes between the two groups flare up all the time, and not just in pick-up bars or parks, though that’s a common enough battleground. This conflict reflects and parallels the on-going strife within society as a whole, daily dramas that play out in homes, high school halls, college dorms, the workplace, on the Internet, even military barracks...any place where men find themselves criticized, even brutalized, by those who don’t consider them “manly” enough. It takes place wherever some gay man finds himself turned off, intimidated, or embarrassed by the sometimes merely effeminate, sometimes loud and flamboyant, behavior of another.