Content Warning: Discussions of homophobia, pornographic media, sex and sexual violence
As I sat on my shitty dorm bunk bed in the ungodly hours of the morning, my two randomly assigned dorm mates and I began the masculine ritual of late-night talks. This was something I had grown quite accustomed to over the many years of masking my sexuality and assimilating into straight society — I had even grown a mild fondness for it. In a social system wracked with toxic masculinity that forces the message of “boys don’t cry” down our throats, late-night talks subverted the stoicism that pervaded my persona and my peers’. Late-night talks balanced moments of levity with the vulnerability that I so desperately coveted in my adolescent life. They were a sacred space to let down my guard, a refuge and a moment of rare connection: I heard the doubts, worries and dreams of friends that I thought I knew, but so frequently found that I didn’t. I only knew one costume in their closet of appearances to maintain, and seeing their authenticity was a privilege I was honored to have.
The two roommates were relatively new additions to my life; they were two very different creatures. One was brash, thoughtless and borderline aggressive, with sudden and unpredictable swings in mood. This unpredictability could bring much-needed energy to my lethargic depressive episodes but, in its most extreme moments, could be cause for alarm. I appreciated his irreverence and boisterousness at times but found it mildly grating in my more petty, irritable moments. The other roommate was a thoughtful and affectionate young man who has become my dearest friend.
The topic of choice for the night was homie-sexual jokes. Now, dear reader, I think it’s easy for you to understand why I hated these jokes with a passion. As a formerly closeted poof — absolutely petrified of slapping a target on my back for having homophobic friends and a family of mixed tolerance — these jokes stuck me between a rock and a hard place. Either I could abstain from partaking in the raucous exploration of burgeoning virility and sexual curiosity, making my discomfort a little too obvious, or I could get in on the joke under a veil of treachery. If I chose to fully commit to the straight boy disguise, that marked an irreversible betrayal of trust: Getting intimate with my fraternal companions under the false assumption that I was assuredly, absolutely, positively, with the utmost sincerity, not gay.
The poor sap who was the subject of that night’s discussion, unfortunately, did not get the memo on homie-erotic activity. As the brash roommate recounted, the boy made an honest mistake for a young Queer man. He asked my exceptionally straight roommate out. Cue the gasps of horror! Of course, my roommate felt upset and responded as such, and his unsuspecting suitor grew defensive, asking why he acted so flirty with his friends. My thoughtful roommate, bless his soul, remained silent for the entire time.
The brash roommate made sure to express his discomfort at being pursued by a man. The Queer suitor’s perplexed inquiry into the brash roommate’s preferences, along with the rather strange world of duplicitous homoeroticism of homie-sexuality, must have really struck a nerve. My mega-super-duper-ultra straight roommate used this as an opportunity to voice his frustrations that unwanted propositions cause for these poor straight men. The idea was clear: Gay men so much as mistakenly expressing passing interest in straight men is unacceptable.
Now, dear reader, this is far from the worst I’ve heard. My old friends seemed to hold slurs with the same fondness that I held my stuffed animals and said them more frequently than they said my own name. I grew up on some viciously homophobic parts of the internet. I’ve had my own grandmother warn me about the potential dangers of a presumably gay friend (who was straight). But this moment struck at something familiar. That something reminded me of moments that left me recoiling, sobbing at odd hours in my room alone: moments where “friends” would joke about hunting and killing my community and moments where I learned to hate myself the most.
It was ice-cold terror, straight through my veins.
It was terror at being outed and terror for my safety. How would this person, who was so sensitive he couldn’t handle his sexuality coming into question, react to sleeping in the same room, sharing meals with and showering right next to a gay man? Dorm life is a fairly intimate and vulnerable experience, and I didn’t know whether living dorm life with a gay man like myself would threaten a delicate part of his identity.
My fear spawned from a harmful stereotype that has spanned decades: gay men being perceived as predators. Their position within the sexual hierarchy throws a wrench into obsolete binary gender conventions that straight men aren’t prepared for. Men become the subject of desire and of objectification. Heteronormative patriarchal society reassures straight men of their position at the top of the food chain, unrivaled in their sexual dominance over women. But when the hunter suddenly becomes the hunted, that security comes into question. It causes fear, as the literal etymology of homophobia will tell you. Sometimes, when men feel threatened, they respond to fear the only way they know how: with anger or with violence. When your own legal system defends the right to attack you and your community because of your identity (i.e. the gay/trans panic defense), you learn to feel fear and shame (oh God, the shame) for any expressions of affection, sexual freedom and — most dangerously — lust.
Media of all kinds will manifest straight society’s fear of the gay “threat.” What results is the “depraved homosexual” and “depraved bisexual” tropes. Unwanted advances, sexual harassment and even sexual violence can have powerful and important representations in media; however, these tropes capitalize on the paranoia that plagues our culture’s view of Queer lifestyles.
Being a young gay man who used to be in the closet, who formerly dealt with shame every single day of my life, I found the only two avenues to explore my sexuality were both visual media. Porn is probably the worst offender of the predator trope in my eyes. There is a much more nuanced discussion to be had about the artistic merit of indulging in the most taboo themes of society’s collective carnal unconscious, as well as the industry surrounding sex workers and porn actors. However, speaking solely as a consumer, porn warps your mind. Instant gratification is a son of a bitch, and seeing men act out scenes of coercion, questionable consent and even rape is an awful introduction to sex for young, impressionable eyes.
The characters and scenarios demonstrated in these pornographic movies will show a caricature of a gay man: He disregards ideas of consent and will try his hardest to “convert” his straight counterpart through the art of seduction. This exaggerated depiction of our lasciviousness is a forbidden fruit for sexually frustrated gay men everywhere. Another exaggeration deals with acted out sexual violence. Part of the gay community finds a thrill in reducing themselves to tops and bottoms and will fornicate with a ferocity closer to beast than man in a scandalous protest against our silencing. I’m not one for kink-shaming and sex work is a valid profession, so go nuts, babes. However, scenes acting out sexual violence do more harm than good for us. We need to hold ourselves to a higher standard.
As a licensed and certified male man, I can inform you that the masculine idea of body image is stretched and inflated into something unnaturally bulky and muscular. The paragons of studliness — models, actors, porn stars — represent standards that are unreasonable to maintain, standards that are upheld by fellow men themselves in their ceaseless quest to become a real-life action hero. Don’t be fooled, however; the male body is not meant to be desired. Instead, the male body is an arena, a battleground staged for competition and the clash of egos dripping with testosterone and sweat. To pine after the male body is to break an unspoken rule among men: Other men are never supposed to look.
Now take that rule and apply it to a place where male bodies are unabashedly on display: the locker room. Locker rooms suck. I can’t speak for every gay guy, but I’ve never had any locker-room fantasies. I just want to mind my own business, get in and get out. That unspoken rule — don’t look, don’t look, do not look — constantly weighed me down. The resulting whirlwind of frustration, confusion, unwanted arousal and exhibition is impossible to untangle without falsely justifying that straight fear of the depraved gay man.
Growing up, I used to watch “Modern Family” with my grandparents. One moment that really stuck with me from the show was from the “Moon Landing” episode. Jay (Ed O’Neill, Dragnet) gives a spiel about how a gay man will ruin the locker room atmosphere: “For me, it’s a locker room. For him, it’s a showroom!” It’s a funny quip, succinctly tapping into one of the points I’ve been trying to express throughout this whole article: disgust at any non-straight thoughts or feelings of prurience. Jay and Cameron (Eric Stonestreet, “The Santa Clauses”) accidentally bump butt cheeks in the locker room; despite Jay being hopelessly frazzled for the rest of the episode, Cameron is unbothered.
The storyline is a wonderful subversion of the predatory gay man trope. Cameron is happily hitched and would have no reason to pursue anyone else. On top of that, he is a considerate person who would never violate anyone’s boundaries in such a vulnerable environment. Cameron is confident and composed enough to not let Jay’s irrational reaction shake him. A gay man in the locker room is only a problem if you make it one. The storyline even wraps up with a neat little bow: Jay not only overcomes his irrational discomfort but also makes a fool of himself in the process. It’s a nice but harmless moment of karmic justice for Jay’s prejudice that — to his credit — he does move past.
But real life rarely follows the same structure as an ABC family-friendly sitcom. The more insensitive straight men, powerless against their own desires, will project their animalism onto gay men. They expect a lack of restraint that, in their eyes, would make gay men either disgusting or threatening.
I would be remiss in my examination of the relationship between gay men and the stereotype of predation if I didn’t talk about the reality of sexual violence insular to the gay community. Both intimate partner violence and general sexual violence occur at higher rates within the Queer community, often starting at a young age and going unreported due to the stigma surrounding both sexual violence and Queer intimacy. Many will try to denote the increased rates of sexual violence as a sign of the inherent depravity of the Queer community while completely ignoring the discretion that many gay men must exercise for their own dignity and safety. Don’t ask, don’t tell — refusing to hide gay love can result in you becoming an unsuspecting victim. What these inhuman pundits refuse to tell you and propaganda victims fail to understand is that living in the shadows means that abuse doesn’t come to light.
Leaving my teenage years and relinquishing porn, I also began to explore my sexuality on Grindr. My experience on Grindr led to baffling encounters with men at least 10 years older than me. Sometimes, I was treated like a gentleman, and sometimes, I was sucked, fucked and chucked out like the whore trash I was. Even though I consented, the clear power imbalance — due to my lack of maturity and sexual experience — led to a feeling of further disgust and worthlessness with myself. That experience is hardly unique to me. No gay role models, no specialized sex ed and no acceptance with a dash of desperation meant that dignity was a commodity that I couldn’t afford.
Throughout navigating the labyrinthian lifestyle of being gay in the Midwest, I encountered problematic media and dating platforms that instilled the belief that to be desired is to be used, not loved. I was very lucky that no one took advantage of that belief before I grew out of it. I can’t say the same for other Queer boys in my position.
My fear of being perceived as a groomer is not a baseless anxiety all in my own head. It is reality. Optimistic liberals will praise America for slowly outgrowing this paranoia, but discourse on the “groomer” dilemma is on the rise among conservative circles and right-wing media. Gay men and especially drag queens and trans women are the new scapegoats for the moronic culture war. From Project 2025 to the Don’t Say Gay movement — causing the invisibility of Queer life within educational institutions — people have been doxxed and threatened just for existing. This fight is not over. People once again want to label me and people dear to me as predators. They want an excuse to erase us from the public eye. Well, Fox News, Libs of TikTok, Proud Boys and to whom it may concern: Go fuck yourself.
My journey to self-acceptance and joy has been an arduous one. I have learned that to counter this fear of “deceiving,” “predating” or “grooming,” I must be vocal, despite the disgust or danger it may invite my way. I paint my nails, post pride pics on my social media and loudly shout about my gayness from the rooftops. Call me a faggot as much as you like: I am resolute in my faggotry, and I’m here to stay. Not only has my openness eased my fears, but the more open I’ve been, the more community I’ve found. Allies will show themselves in rare moments of empathy. And most importantly, in a beautiful byproduct of a disappointingly Queerphobic society, Queer people are naturally drawn to one another to stand together in solidarity. In conclusion: No, I’m not your scapegoat. I’m not a groomer. I’m not a predator, and you aren’t my prey. The gay identity is not one of exploitation, fear or shame. It is one of pride and love.
If you will hate me anyways, then I’ll love me enough for the both of us.
Daily Arts Writer James Johnston can be reached at johnstjc@umich.edu.
The post Predators and Prey: The Homosexual “Threat” appeared first on The Michigan Daily.
Leave a Reply