Someone shouted "Faggot" at me in the street

The Manchester Mincers Parade 2011 (S)

"Don't mince!" I remember my father kept saying. "Mince?", I thought, "What does that even mean?", I didn't understand. I was what? Five to eight years-old? I found out, after a long time of my Dad saying this to me, that it meant to walk in a certain way; a bit flamboyantly, effeminate, swishy - those are some words often used to describe it. I think I actually just asked him straight out what it meant one day, annoyed that I was still failing to "not mince", whatever that meant. For me, I was doing nothing wrong, nothing out-of-the-ordinary, I was just walking. It genuinely troubled me. I was failing to walk "properly" - or as I see it now, fit into a "straight" box.

I was just thinking about this this morning on my way to the tram stop. This evening, some stranger finished this article for me. I was insulted in the street, loudly.

I had just got off the tram and was on my way back to my apartment on foot when a total two total strangers passed me on a scooter, the driver of which shouted "faggot!" at me, and then looked back on his way past to see my reaction. It took me a few seconds to register what had just happened, until I actually stopped on the spot and stared with shock and amazement. Who told you that was acceptable? Or perhaps a better way of putting it would be "who told you that wasn't acceptable?" No-one. People call out racism far more often than they do homophobia, and yet in French culture homophobia is far more prevalent. And why did he look back? Did he think those two syllables would be enough to make me stop, start screaming and breaking down in tears in the street? No. Not for you. Not for a complete and total stranger. That way I'd be giving you what you want, and guess what? With me, homophobia doesn't pay.

This was me holding a sign up beside an unpopular girl (S)

I had my shopping bags in my hands and if he had had the balls to be going any slower, and if I had reacted a bit faster, I swear I would have thrown my jar of curry sauce right at his head (if I were any good at sport). And then when I got home it struck me hard. Two years ago, that would have been me using the homophobic insults, and not even necessarily towards someone who was gay.

So I don't know. Do I mince? Don't I? You can't tell me that. After all, I'm just a guy with a keyboard and a blog to write on. After this event, a few of my friends told me you wouldn't be able to tell I'm gay from the way I walk. This may be explained by the fact that as soon as I found out that mincing was associated with being gay (when I was seven or eight), I tried to repress it and "walk straight". That sounds so ridiculous to me now, and yet, sometimes I still find myself making the effort to do it. It's proof that it's totally subconscious, that I have no idea I'm walking that way. I actually have to make the effort to walk differently, the same way most straight men would have to try and mince. It's called gender non-conformity and that my darlings, is how our old friend Gaydar® works (yes, I just stole it as a registered trademark, and I feel that if I mince I should be allowed to call people my "darlings"). But whether I do or I don't mince, whether I used to in the past but don't anymore, has really plain confused me.

Should I really care if I mince or not? Sadly, I've come to the conclusion that the answer is "yes". As much as I'd like it to be "no", I can't pretend we live in some utopic, gay-embracing world where you can openly express yourself at any time of day or night and in any place, without having to consciously place barriers on your everyday actions, from how you say "hello" to your friends, to the way you walk down the street. It's virtually impossible. Yet, it can be literally a life-saver and sometimes it's the sensible thing to do. Let's replace that guy on the scooter with a guy on the pavement in front of me, drunk (although he doesn't necessarily need to be), with a knife in his hand. Do I have to know when to place barriers on my actions now? If I want to walk away alive or unhurt, it would be a very good idea.

But how to know when you might be faced with a knife-brandishing lunatic? You can't. And there's no way I would suggest repressing yourself 24/7. I come across gay guys all the time, be it online or in real life, who say they wouldn't feel safe walking down the street holding their boyfriend's hand, and that they wouldn't feel safe kissing them in a public place. It makes me so angry, not with them because they have reasons to think that, but about the fact not a lot is being done to change people's mentalities when it comes to homosexuality. Then there are the couples who dare. And these are the ones I have enormous amounts of respect for. It is so refreshing, reassuring, and uplifting to have a little bit more of your faith restored in humanity when you see a couple of guys kissing in public, or holding hands. This is the best way to say "It Gets Better" to the younger generations in the darkest days of their adolescence, not a sappy, seen-it-all-before video on the internet. These are the things that put a smile on my face, but they're too rare. So let me flirt with bad stereotypes and sexual allusions and say "We have balls, and they actually have more than one use, you know?".

I think a lot of us worry about physical attacks, or becoming a target because of our sexual orientation, or the way we express ourselves. Repressing the way I walk sometimes isn't the only thing I find myself doing. This is the topic of an upcoming post of mine where I'll be writing to French President François Hollande to find out what (besides marriage equality) he is doing to change people's attitudes towards homosexuality. We should be able to express our true selves in public without having to worry about who's around and how they might react. I always have to make sure I roll my shutters down at night in my apartment because I have a gay pride flag opposite my window and there are a lot of Arabs in my residence who like to hang around in the courtyard at night and rap about things they hate. This shouldn't be something I have to think about. I shouldn't have to worry about getting a brick through my window, or beaten up if they see it and decide to target me. But I'm not taking it down.

Nevertheless, it could be said that throughout the course of this post I turned something as very hurtful, as ignorant, and as negative as a homophobic insult, into something that's useful, and educational, and pro-gay. But that doesn't excuse this stranger on a scooter. It's just the best way I can find of coping, and I recommend it to anyone who gets degraded because of their sexual orientation or gender identity. I guess that as someone who is "bent" I can bend anything the way I want it!

Now please excuse me as I go and put that sadly unbroken jar of curry sauce away.