No one oppressed me, called me names, assaulted my beliefs, or questioned my orientation

So this weekend was about as gay as it gets for a straight boy. Gay bars, cross dressing, and cock sucking on film, oh my! While this was definitely different than what my normal and utterly boring work filled weekends are like, I’d like to believe I walked away with a deeper impression about who gays are in society. People. Nothing extra ordinary. No walking on water or leaping over tall buildings in a single bound. Just ordinary folks looking to get as much enjoyment as possible during their experience as a human being stuck on planet earth. Pretty much the same as everyone else.

I had never been to a drag show, or a gay bar in full swing till this weekend but I’ve been to a strip club once and a few bars so my experience with performance art and drinking as a social lubricant aren’t entirely foreign. Watching what I can only assume was a young woman perform a sexy routine to a song about freaking could have taken place in any strip club across the globe. I’m sure it was happening that very night at the strip joint a few blocks away. The biggest differences I saw was that she kept her clothes on and probably didn’t ask for money to be thrown at her. She also seemed to be enjoying her act. Makes senses doesn’t it. You work towards your goals with planning and preparation and then feel good for a job well done. Same as the rest of us.

The crowd at the bar seemed like the perfect stiff drink, a good mix of everything. There was young and old singles and couples. Dancing fools hogged the main floor while the social butterflies occupied the space against the wall where the air conditioning breeze was unobstructed. The freaks in leather mingled with the business casual attired as attractive bartenders removed clothing to make your drink ordering experience just a tad more special. Bon Jovi remains equally atrocious no matter what environment he gets played in. If it wasn’t for close observation and all the rainbows nothing stood out as being much different than any other club I’ve been to.

Sitting around a waiting for a naked man to ejaculate probably is a tad unusual, but these things happen when working in porn. While the extras and myself sat around waiting, the b.s. of conversation kicked in. Hanging out with the gay performers, the situation was hardly anything different. Certainly the conversations were more open, personal, and a bit more philosophical about the world at large, but really it was all just something to fill in the void silence would have created. Having a gay performer be the only one to mention a family back home was a bit strange all things considered.

On set watching some of the other extra’s struggle with the male on male fellatio a few feet away from them, my internal voice kept asking the same question repeatedly, what the hell is so darn terrifying about this of all things. In a world of terrorist, murders, birthers, and pay checks for guys like Limbaugh, this of all things has the power to make some people extremely uncomfortable. Its not like you’re going to catch a disease from being in the room, nor will you magically turn gay. You are who you are; they are who they are, and at the end of the day, little of that changes.

So after this weekend I’m even more confused as to where homophobia comes from exactly, not withstanding a half dozen scriptures written during the bronze age that has somehow managed to still remain relevant while everything else from that era we’ve long since abandoned. Between the penis loving and people dancing there wasn’t a heck of a lot of things that stood out from things I’ve seen straight people do all the time. Sure the rainbow flags were different, but that attempt at building a connection through community is not an idea exclusive to the gay community.

Nothing this weekend screamed hate me because of the differences we have. No one shunned me for my choice of bed fellows, yet the reversal of the situation almost seemed hovering in the air on the porno set and my mind still struggles as to explain why. What about who people choose to sleep with matters so darn much on the judgment scale that people will sue for the right to openly promote hate against them or prevent them from sharing their last moments on earth together? Some bigot out there, please explain it to me, because I just didn’t encounter a reason. No one oppressed me, called me names, assaulted my beliefs, or really gave a damn about my sexual orientation. Funny how I can’t say the same when I’ve been stuck in crowds of straight people.

John Sklba is a graphic designer who lives in Plantation. John has spent time in Detroit, Saginaw and Atlanta. He
can be reached at Dmitryr@jumponmarkslist.com