There Is Still Hope

I was going through my old harddrive and found this article I wrote 2 years ago when I was writing for Exit. looking back from then till now, wow, I have come a long way. Anyway I thought I would just put it here as a reminder to myself that there is always light at the end of the tunnel

I am crying as I write this. I am not crying liquid tears of self pity, but tears of silent agony deep inside of me. I shed these tears almost everyday. My personality is disintegrating to the point where I will have no personality by the time I reach 30. Truth be told, I am terrified of the possibility of that happening. But even now, when all seem to be so gloomy, I still dare to hope.

My horror began on location in Magaliesburg. A place I’d have never thought I’d be, when I face my demons. While on set waiting for the scene to be dressed and blocked, I found myself sitting alone in the corner of the green room. One of my colleagues approached me and asked me to run lines with him – to which I gladly agreed. Out of the blue he asked, “ Are you gay?”. I chocked. It wasn’t because of the question, no, it was the person who was asking the question who prompted my reaction.

I’m one of those people who believe in being seen as me first before you see the labels attached to me. In fact, I hate labels because they come with expectations. I’ve always said, “I’m Phil not Gay”. This is my way of ensuring that whoever dared to ask, understood that I don’t conform to any preconceived stereotypical ideas he/she might have about being gay. Yes, I sleep with men but don’t ask me about shoes or expect me to know the lyrics to every Abba song. Many a time this approach to being gay has saved me from being 'Phil – the Gay guy'. I am more than that.

I looked around the room to see if anyone had heard his intrusive question. Honestly I was slightly embarrassed. Normally this is where I break into the “labels” speech. Problem here was, my colleague was a 12 year old boy. He told me that everyone on set has been talking about it. He of course didn’t think that I was because according to him, I don’t talk gayishly. “If there was ever a time for me to champion the course of the Simon Nkolis of this world, this was it.” I thought to myself. Before I could utter a word, he tells me that he thinks he might be gay.

I sat there and listened to him tell me about his wishes and aspiration. What got to me though was his perception of what being gay is. He thinks that once his parents and society accepts that he’s gay all will be fine. This is where my dilemma with this situation culminates. Do I burst is bubble and inform him that love in this so called gay community is a privilege? Do I tell him that the very same people who claim to be in your ‘community’ will treat you like a subhuman being because of your skin colour in some clubs? or they will judge you because you don't conform to a particular stereotype of what being gay is.

Granted, there are many gay couples who are in happy committed monogamous relationships and some non-racists places out there. But for a young black boy, where is he going to see that? I certainly haven’t seen a black gay couple that’s been together for more than 5 years. Sadly, every time I find myself crying over yet another failed attempt at a relationship, I loose hope that such couple even exists. I was definitely the wrong person for this boy to be talking to. Hell, I am bitter about not finding “the right guy” for me and have sour grapes about the scums I have had in my life.

As I gasped for air I knew that my fear, that’s been gestating over the past 4 years, of being alone for the rest of my life should not cloud my judgement. I don’t know, maybe when he’s 24 things will be different. I also have to acknowledge that I am the common denominator in these failed relationships. It's possible that the problem is with me. He might find love and live happily ever after. In the end I told him what I thought was appropriate at the time – Be yourself and everything will fall into place.

Now as I lie here on my bed agonising about my empty life I can’t help but wonder; should I have told him what I really thought about living in this world as a gay man?