Eyes rolling. Heavy sigh.
Gays and lesbians are some of the most tedious people.
A worrisome, worried lot.
I get being out. I do.
It’s this new way folks come out that is funny and boring, and when I say “folks” I mean celebrities, stars, rappers, singers, athletes. You know, the ones living in such rarified air that after they post, tweet or air the news of their gayness the rest of us — yawn — already knew, they have the literal luxury of being able to live their lives without really being stung by the realities of homophobia the rest of us live with.
Any ostracization will not touch them, ensconced as they are in class comforts.
Within a matter of days, Anderson Cooper, Megan Rapinoe and Frank Ocean have all come out, albeit in different ways and for different reasons.
Gettin’ stuffy in that closet, I guess.
News Adonis, talk show host, fag to Kathy Griffin’s hag, Cooper lives in what I call the glass closet. We see you, we know you are and we do not care. Why? Because Cooper lives his fabulous New York City life which includes biking around shirtless with his impeccably thin and equally sculpted boyfriend, and it’s New York — and what white, wealthy, accomplished man in New York City isn’t gay?
Plus, it’d been rumored for years that Cooper is gay and nobody starts, feeds and fuels online gay rumors ’til they go viral like the gays.
Honey, the Internet is the new gay bathhouse without all the sweat and viruses.
So on July 2 when his friend Andrew Sullivan reprinted their email exchange in The Daily Beast in response to the “new restraint” gays with public profiles show in coming out these days, I didn’t understand the hyperactivity around it and extended news cycle it received. Personally, I’m much more interested in Cooper’s obsessive/compulsive disorder that dictates he eat the same turkey sandwich every day or makes him profoundly averse to being touched. Now that’s some weirdness I can relate to.
So it’s old news handled virtuously by Cooper who is fully aware of his privilege and preciousness and that he’s been standing behind some bullshit journalistic shield of honor.
Then faster than you can say Katie Holmes is smarter than she looks, Rapinoe, a midfielder for the U.S.
Women’s Soccer team, announced “I am gay” the very next day after Cooper’s coup. therapy session wherein he doesn’t really say the words but infers his sexuality by recounting personal scenarios.
In professional sports it is an unscientifically proven fact that women more likely and more often come out with vim and vigor. This could be: a) there is less to hide since women cannot get or show erections, b) the fear of brutal and violent physical retribution is much less likely and c) it is still, for some reason, more “acceptable” (and palatable) for two chicks to kiss than it is for two dudes to ... well, you know.
When I saw Rapinoe’s announcement as a Yahoo! headline I did not bother to read the story, so I am not sure why she chose this time to make the announcement; however, I did peruse images of her throughout the years and she started, with the white-blonde dying of her once-dark tresses, to look increasingly like every athletic-looking-Sporty-Spice white dyke I’ve ever seen in every bad segregated dyke bar I’ve ever set foot in across this great nation of ours.
I say all that to say: Your response, like mine, should be d’uh to Rapinoe’s pronouncement.
And as if the front line of the Gay Pride Parade weren’t crowded enough, black entertainment gossip sites and blogs blew up during the weekend when Ocean, a nasally voiced young R&B crooner from the Odd Future clique, came out via a long, tangential letter-cum-tumblr
And of these three, Ocean has the most to lose because, on the whole, black R&B and Rap — the worlds he orbits comprising Kanye, Jay-Z and Beyonce — remain some of the most homophobic, treacherous and closeted waters in popular culture.
It’s a good thing his stage name is Ocean.
It may get choppy for him.
The lyrical gay bashing is prominent especially in black Rap circles and shows no signs of abating anytime soon.
In fact, I look for brilliant myopic rhyme slayers to start using Ocean’s name as a metaphor for all things faggotry much like Common did with Greg Louganis on De La Soul’s “The Bizness” on Stakes Is High or like Wafeek did with the wordplay he employed using Jake Gyllenhaal and “Broke Back Mountain” on Black Spade’s “The Ship Has Sailed.”
Maybe Busta Rhymes, still sore from the loss of his ex-wife to another woman, will make a dis mixtape about Ocean and the rest of the faggots sullying the virility of Rap and R&B hooks.
He will do this after he pops more steroids.
And maybe Diddy, up for air from one of his infamous, long whispered-about all-male sex parties, will produce it and Tyler Perry, resplendent in an Easter Parade-purple V-neck sweater, will make the really bad movie version of the whole thing and it will go straight to DVD.
All the black church ladies will go see it in the one weekend it’s showing before it goes to DVD and none of them will talk anything about homophobia in the black church, black men bringing AIDS home from prison (still) or closeted black gay men in the Rap community.
They will only cackle on about how hilarious that Madea was when she walked in on Busta, Diddy and, in a performance sure to be heralded by Oprah, Perry himself, all in a ménage a trois.
Now that? That’s coming out, bitches.
Meantime, wake me when gays and lesbians are being themselves.
And should folks demand to know who or what that is, they do not answer, they merely live.
Because they’ve been living it all along.
CONTACT KATHY Y. WILSON: email@example.com