Being Gay in Rural Alberta
By Jordan Bates
reprinted with permission by the author
Picture this: There I was looking like complete crap wearing torn jeans and three days of stubble surviving on coffee and countless cigarettes (yeah their bad for you, so sue me) and since it was my day off I was searching the web, sending off e-mails to friends and generally slacking off my precious 24 hours of bliss. Then, I come to the Times .10 Magazine Website and discover the article written by Tara Wittchen titled "Being Gay in Rural Alberta". Well, after printing off the article and refilling my oversized mug with liquid caffeine, I sat down and read the story of how Mark dealt with the problems surrounding a gay or lesbian youth who lives in a small town or village. It was excellently written describing how being openly gay in Bonnyville was "repressing" and that "You've got to leave the town..."
Hmm? Although I agree that small villages, towns, hamlets etc. are very weird at times, and of course the stereotype that everybody's business is everybody's else's business seem to, at times, hit the nail right on the head. And anybody who has, or is living in a small town, that discussion on such former taboo topics like sex, drugs, alcoholism, homosexuality (oh my god!) are generally viewed with intolerance and usually suffer the snide remark or so.
How the hell would I know of such things you might be thinking right now, or perhaps your thinking, "this guy obviously has no clue what goes on". Well think again honey, because I actually live in a small town, err village. That's right, I've seen it all after living here in Onoway (think north-west of Edmonton), and I've dealt with some of the bullshit that can be thrown at queers in the country.
You would not believe what people get inside their heads when they find out that there are openly gay and lesbian teens and adults in their cozy "normal" community. You see, allow me to explain. When I came out of the closet, word spread faster than hell. By the end of math class the student population had heard. And since Onoway High School is deemed as "Rumor City" where rumors are manipulated and warped so far from the truth, that what started out as so-and so slept with so-and so, turns into a tale involving a bag of cocaine, a stolen bike and a mismatched bag of Oreos, the tale of a gay man in the vicinity scared the shit out of a lot of people. Funny thing though was that even before I came out, everyone basically knew I was a fag, but nevertheless panic ensued. My friends who were male (which was slim, simply "cause all they thought about was trucks and sports".. yawn!) nearly shit their pants when they recalled times I visited their homes, was in their BEDROOM (oh no!) and hung out with them. The thoughts running through their heads must have been like "was he hitting on me?" "What was behind that smile and hi in English"?
As you pictured it, my male friends scattered like single men when the girl flashes the wedding band. But the women in the school took an entirely different approach, taking to me like hyper teens with credit cards at a Gucci sale. Obviously a gay man was what they needed. Why you ask? I still don't know. Anyways, this tale isn't going to be sickly sweet with images of an innocent queer flipping down the halls of the school singing off-key Broadway tunes (although... never mind), I did come face to face with "issues". Of course the issue is homophobia which Mark describes beautifully as "attracted to the same sex and gay bash out of fear." (So THAT'S why he was staring at my ass... hmm?) Anyhow, the crap came from both students and teachers who must have been constantly stuck on their rag. Comments like "faggot", "fudge-packer" and countless other descriptive synonyms were tossed in class, in the hall, and during lunch hour. At times it was tough; at some times it was complete hell. And that is what brings me to the point of my confusing writing which probably has you reaching for the anti-psychotics. (Zoloft?)
My mother told me rather bluntly after I came out to her, "nobody's going to live your life for you, that's your job." Which truly struck a key as it came to me that if I continued to act like a floor mat to the homophobic people at school and around town, I was going to be treated like the floor mat; stomped on. My next thought was of course, HELL NO!
Trust me guys; sometimes your best defense is simply two things, bitchy looking clothes and a sharp tongue. The big mean homophobic jock who probably checks out his buddies in the change room will never know what hit him when the supposed limp-wristed terrified queer tears him a new asshole with a barrage of comebacks, as you're dressed in clothes that clearly speak "Major Bitch". The look in their eyes when they realize not to screw with the boy who could easily fuck your brains out and call the boring last night's supper to his buddies.
All right, now to another part of my babbling. I direct this to those of you who are reading this and live in small towns that view gays with hatred and ignorance, don't run. That's right, you heard me, don't run! Fleeing to a safe haven, away from the rude stupidity of uneducated people isn't going to help. The only way we as men and women are going to obtain equality and true acceptance (not just tongue in cheek) is not by hiding in clustered societies away from the straight population. Of course, there are risks, of course shit can happen, but getting past it, braving the front wave is the ONLY way we are going to show that we as individuals are not cowards and won't be pushed around and need a father figure and a couple pills (there comes the Zoloft again!) I decided quite some time ago that I happen to like this small place with all its strange things, to hell with the rest of the homophobes. Show weakness and they will pounce; show strength and wherever you live can be a great place. Not to mention, a cute boy in a pair of Wranglers is damn near perfect libido fodder.
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