Social Norms: Big Gay Al
Alan had a problem.
Three of his friends wanted to punch him. Not because he was tall, or because he was skinny, not because he was he was the captain of the swimming team or the class clown. In fact, Alan was so great; he had women sitting at his table every day for lunch. Alan had a problem because Alan wasn’t kissing these girls, and if he wasn’t kissing these girls, what was he doing sitting at their table?
By year 10, Alan had been given the nickname ‘big gay al’ partially because he was tall, but also because his platonic relationship with the girls, allowed his friends to see him as gay. You see, a virtuous male in his friends’ eyes was a man who possessed dominance and control, who related to women as objects, designed to cater for a mans every need. Confused at how someone so tall could lack this kind of masculinity, Alan’s friends made it clear to him that being gay was not an option. Alan’s carefree nature created a rubber glue relationship with these friends. They became threated by Alan’s ability to reject the comments and provide a mirror of reflection to each of them. And out of fear, they continued to tear down the mirror Alan was presenting to them.
Drowning in a sea of social norms and suffocating in the crowded spaces of society’s expectations, how are we expected be ourselves when we are hiding behind this constant pressure, the pressure to be beautiful, the pressure to be youthful, and the pressure to be straight? It’s as though society expects us to fix ourselves. Change, for the sake of staying the same.
The strange thing is, in Alan’s case, his behavior was a Rorscach of his friends’ own fears and insecurities. Alan didn’t care that he was being referred to as gay, because Alan knew he wasn’t. He knew that he had no issues of identity, and he knew just where he belonged – he belonged on a table at lunchtime, centimeters across from his female best friends. But for Alan’s friends, this may not have been the case, his
Three of his friends wanted to punch him. Not because he was tall, or because he was skinny, not because he was he was the captain of the swimming team or the class clown. In fact, Alan was so great; he had women sitting at his table every day for lunch. Alan had a problem because Alan wasn’t kissing these girls, and if he wasn’t kissing these girls, what was he doing sitting at their table?
By year 10, Alan had been given the nickname ‘big gay al’ partially because he was tall, but also because his platonic relationship with the girls, allowed his friends to see him as gay. You see, a virtuous male in his friends’ eyes was a man who possessed dominance and control, who related to women as objects, designed to cater for a mans every need. Confused at how someone so tall could lack this kind of masculinity, Alan’s friends made it clear to him that being gay was not an option. Alan’s carefree nature created a rubber glue relationship with these friends. They became threated by Alan’s ability to reject the comments and provide a mirror of reflection to each of them. And out of fear, they continued to tear down the mirror Alan was presenting to them.
Drowning in a sea of social norms and suffocating in the crowded spaces of society’s expectations, how are we expected be ourselves when we are hiding behind this constant pressure, the pressure to be beautiful, the pressure to be youthful, and the pressure to be straight? It’s as though society expects us to fix ourselves. Change, for the sake of staying the same.
The strange thing is, in Alan’s case, his behavior was a Rorscach of his friends’ own fears and insecurities. Alan didn’t care that he was being referred to as gay, because Alan knew he wasn’t. He knew that he had no issues of identity, and he knew just where he belonged – he belonged on a table at lunchtime, centimeters across from his female best friends. But for Alan’s friends, this may not have been the case, his