This column first ran in John Paul Brammer’s Hola Papi newsletter, which you can subscribe to on Substack.
¡Hola, Papi!
I came out a little later in life — first in college as bi, then in my late 20s as a lesbian. My journey of coming out has been both challenging and rewarding. It’s made a lot of things that never seemed to click for me finally (finally!) make perfect sense.
But because of my delayed realization, I didn’t really build a lot of queer community until these last few years. I have a lot of straight friends. No, you don’t understand … a lot. But I’ve been lucky enough to fall into a group of amazing queer people as of late, and I’ve never felt more seen. It’s been amazing.
With Pride approaching, something awkward has been happening. A lot of my straight friends are asking to tag along, and, for the first time, I’m considering saying no. Lately, I’ve been feeling less and less enthused about bringing straight friends into queer spaces. As a cis, white, straight-passing gay woman, I already don’t want to take up too much space when a lot of the world is more accepting of me than a lot of my queer community. But adding a bunch of straight ladies to the mix? That feels … weird.
I also, deep down, am already feeling weary of being “the gay friend.” The friend who will go to the Muna concert with you; the friend to whom you can confess that you once watched gay porn; the friend who’s a little neutered because, you know, in many ways, they don’t believe it’s “the same” as their marriage/dating life/etc. I’ve always heard about men feeling like they’ve been placed in the role of “gay best friend,” but I’m starting to get it now too.
Papi, how do I tell my straight friends that, while I love them, I need them to sit this one out? I love them and their support for my newfound freedom in my identity, but I want to have room to explore spaces made for me — in all of my humanity.
Signed,
Token Gay Friend
Hey there, TGF!
Ah, yes, Pride season — a time for us to come together as a community and argue about “spaces” and who or what is acceptable in them. I thought we were all spending Pride on the computer? That’s how I’m doing it anyway. That’s how I do every holiday. Non-holidays too.
Regardless, I know what you’re going through. I was 20 years old when I first boarded the USS LGBTQ+. Getting my sea legs under me was challenging. I didn’t quite know how I fit into “the community,” what my role was, if I needed to spend a year or two swabbing decks or whatever this metaphor demands. It’s been a while since I first shoved off. I feel more like a bedraggled pirate now, the kind with a hook and a peg leg and an old parrot perched on my shoulder that only knows how to say “it’s giving” and “Padam.” I’ve been through several years of “discourse” on this subject (that’s how I lost me leg), so I’ll share my thoughts.
To begin, when we talk about who belongs at “Pride,” I often wish we were working with a more concrete definition. Are we talking about the parade? Because, if so, I think it’s fine and good, even, for your straight pals to tag along, assuming they weren’t raised in a barn. I just don’t think your straight friends are at risk of taking up space from the Deutsche Bank float. Aside from the fact that it’s very difficult to tell who is “in the community” just by looking at them, I’m also skeptical about the idea that we should be discouraging anyone from participation.
I’m not saying this is your line of thought at all, but to quickly address one topic in the bigger picture, I’m a bit fatigued with the rigid notion that specific identities confer a specific set of values, beliefs, and behaviors. I’m not sure it’s getting us anywhere, and I have to question if the very premise might have some uncomfortable symmetry with modes of thinking that have led to the stigmatization of LGBTQ+ people in the first place. There are gay people with god-awful politics. There are straight people who listen to Chappell Roan (maybe?). You get it, you get it.
Certainly, there are events and bars and such that you’d rather keep, shall we say, in-house. Recently coming out does give you the official Gay Card, which is recognized by overly enthusiastic straight friends everywhere. I’m sure they’ll acquiesce if you politely inform them, as I sometimes do, “Eh, it’s a gay thing.” If you think they’re at risk of being, for lack of a better term, “annoying as shit” in such an environment, hitting on people they have no interest in and treating the whole thing like a trip to the zoo, then, yes, keep them far away — and maybe get better friends.
But if they can respect the fact that they are guests, if, you know, they can hang, then I think it’s pretty lovely that your friends want you to feel supported. You mentioned wanting to be seen in all of your humanity. Your straight friends should be doing that! I assume you’d do the same for friends who aren’t exactly like you and have struggles you don’t understand.
I get, though, what you mean in the colloquial sense. There’s something to be said about being in an environment where you don’t have to explain anything and, bless them, even the best “proud straight ally” will require you to play translator to some degree. That can be tiring. It can feel like work. You’re well within your rights to want a break from that, and it brings me to your next point about feeling tokenized.
I’ve been in that sort of situation as well. I especially feel your point on the subtle condescension about us leading less serious lives. It’s irritating, and I think you absolutely should spray them with water like a poorly behaved cat when they say or do something that makes you feel like you’re being tokenized or belittled.
The mature thing to do is to simply bring it up and say, “Hey, I value your friendship, but sometimes I feel like ‘the gay friend’ when you say things like that.” Then there’s the less mature thing, which is what I do. I do it back to them. I ask them why pickleball became so huge in the heterosexual community. I ask them what they’re doing for straight Pride. I ask them about straight representation in media. I ask them about axe-throwing bars. I ask “So what’s with you guys and the outfits?” in a broad, general sense that hints at disapproval. I’m exotic to you? No, you’re exotic to me.
It’s worth a shot if you’re bored.
In any case, I hope you have a great Pride, TGF! I’m sure your straight buds will understand if you prefer to go out with a different crew for this one (legally, they are required to understand, lest they lose their ally’s license). But whatever you decide to do, never forget the true meaning of the season: collecting free pens from your local bank and teachers’ union.
Con mucho amor,
Papi
Originally published on June 7, 2024.
Purchase JP Brammer’s book, Hola Papi: How to Come Out in a Walmart Parking Lot and Other Life Lessons, here.
