Today (Oct 11) is National Coming Out Day.
I had to smile to myself as I got dressed: I'm putting on my Gay Underwear, I thought as I reached for the same briefs I always put on. And then I was stuck thinking about what Gay Underwear looks like: either a "banana hammock" in striped lycra or else a leather jock-strap. And then this always leads to memories from that one Minnesota Renn Faire with some players who must have been Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, one of whom wore an elaborate cod-piece bedecked like a Christmas tree ornament with gold ribbons and dripping with pearls.
...And now I'm putting on my Gay Pants... which are the same slacks I usually put on for work. The exercise of calling everything gay lasted for a few more minutes as I pulled Gay Socks out of my Gay Dresser and walked out of my Gay Bedroom to feed my Gay Cats. I did have fun quoting the movie "Jeffry" as I tied my old black and silver-threaded scarf and saying, "Can I do this? Or does it make me look like some sort of Gay Superhero?"
I'm of two minds about dressing to one's identity politics. On one hand, it's necessary to remind people from time to time, that, yes, there are gay people who work next to them, who go grocery shopping, and who are parents of school-aged children. And sometimes it's fun to dress up a little with a pink triangle and connect with other out gay folks. On the other hand, I hate identity politics, and I dislike being reduced to a pink triangle, because I'm more than a guy with a husband or a man who is erotically attracted to other men.
But at least I don't have to wear a hair shirt.
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