Gay Stereotypes Essay

My name is Rob Geis, and I’m a male college student who happens to be gay. Now, I’m not an “oh-my-God!” gay, nor am I an “honey, that blouse is all wrong” gay, but for some reason that image gets stuck in people’s minds when I tell them that I am gay. In many ways, coming out was one of the most liberating experiences of my life. I‘m free to do whatever I want under the banner of homosexuality: I can wear skimpy, too-tight clothing that doesn’t suit me, put on makeup, act effeminate and cutesy, or cry at the drop of a hat, without society so much as batting an eye. It’s a real pain.

The gay stereotype is that we’re all promiscuous, shallow individuals who act extremely feminine and obsess over fashion. The problem is that there are more young gays who don’t fit the stereotype than those who do. In his 2005 Time cover story titled “The Battle Over Gay Teens,” John Cloud quotes one-time Young Gay America Magazine editor-in-chief Michael Glatze as saying, “Today so many kids who are gay, they don't like Cher. They aren't part of the whole subculture. …I don't think the gay movement understands the extent to which the next generation just wants to be normal kids.”

There seems to be a constant pressure to “act gay” from others in the gay and straight communities. Look at the news

I can call someone “fag” or “queer,” or even sling “bitch” around in casual circumstances. I can, and did for a while, dress up, or in more explicit terms, dress for sex. I wasn’t actually looking to hook up with anyone, but I wore stuff I thought was stylish and that would be attractive to other guys, advertising “I’m here and I’m queer,” to steal a phrase. But the point is this: gays stereotype themselves—ourselves—and are stereotyped because it’s somehow a validation: “If you don’t act the right way, you aren’t gay, dear.” This is what previous generations of gays in society have mandated by their actions, deliberately or