What Goes Unspoken

Fyodor's Interview

When did you first think that you might not be heterosexual?

As I recall, it began to hit me ‘round about the seventh grade.  If my memory serves me, I was about 12 at the time.  As my innocent mind began looking at the people around me in a different light, it gradually dawned on me that girls were icky and guys were crush-worthy.  And that was that – no gripping internal conflict, nothing.  I was lucky in that respect – to be ‘individual’ enough to come to a pretty firm conclusion about my identity with pretty little drama (and before the turbulence of high school).

When you came to the conclusion that you are not heterosexual, how did that affect you?

At the risk of being redundant, I’ll say that it didn’t affect me much.  I had never felt comfortable, like, dating members of the opposite sex or anything, so nothing changed there.  Let me mention that I’m from a quite … backwards … part of the country.  Suffice it to say that Charlotte looks, by comparison, shockingly progressive.  Bearing that in mind, then, I suppose I pretty quickly resigned myself to the notion that I was probably never going to get a chance to express my sexuality during high school.

Do you think Davidson is a safe place to be out? Why or why not?

Ah, what a deceptively simple question that is.  ‘Safety,’ needless to say, takes a number of forms.  I don’t fear meeting the same tragic fate as Matthew Shepard, if that’s what you mean.  At the same time, Davidson does not exactly strike me as a place where I would be universally accepted – which means a lot more than tolerated – if my sexuality were more obvious.  There are a whole lot of people here whom I’m very comfortable ‘being gay’ around, and by whom I do feel refreshingly accepted – it’s an enormous contrast to home.  At the same time, I can think of a lot of rather hateful elements to the school around whom I would never dream of making reference to my sexuality.  Physically safe?  Yes.  Socially safe?  Not so much.  But then again, to a great extent, that’s the broader world in which we live.  And I hurry to point out that when I refer to these “hateful elements,” I’m meaning people who would probably, at worst, “just tolerate” me, not actually attack me physically or verbally.

If you could change Davidson in one way to make it a better place to be gay or lesbian what would you change?

Get more gay people here!  Or at least make them ‘come out’ (what an unpleasantly simplistic term that is, I might add).

Do you think that your sexuality will play a part in your decision as to where and what you want to do when you graduate?

Well … it’s too early for me to say.  My sexuality will not play a role in my decision to continue to a graduate school.  It may affect where I choose to go, though.  Indeed, it was largely my sexuality that led me to favor a certain competitive liberal arts school outside of Los Angeles over Davidson when choosing an undergraduate institution (and I am only here, incidentally, because the parental unit overrode my preference in that matter).  I’d like to think that it doesn’t matter, but … well, my decisions depend a lot on where I stand at the time that I make them.  And as yet, I don’t know where I’ll stand at the end of my Davidson experience.

Many gay and lesbian people feel pressure to stay away from stereotypes or to adopt them. How do you think stereotypes influence you?

The value of stereotypes to me extends only far enough for me to poke fun at them.  I feel no pressure either to conform to or to shun ‘gay’ stereotypes – that said, I’m a rather free spirit.  I suppose I do consciously move away from ‘gay’ behaviors when I’m around the more hateful types that I referred to earlier – I’ve got a deep-South accent tucked away that sounds QUITE convincingly straight – but those aren’t people who I’d act naturally around anyway.  I think one of my luckier points lies in the fact that I’m not, by nature, outwardly flamboyant.  I neither lisp nor flip my wrist, et cetera, et cetera.  In that sense, I’ve never really needed to worry about masking my conformity to the stereotypes.  But yes.  That is all.

What is one thing you wish people knew about gay and lesbian people?

‘We’ are as diverse as our heterosexual counterparts pretty much across the board – not all of us fight to assume the opposite gender role, not all of us are arch enemies of various and sundry supreme deities, and not all of us eschew the confines of a loving, committed, monogamous relationship.

Today we hear a lot of people talking about coming out. How has this practice influenced your life?

Frankly, I like to think that I have little to do with it.  If you know me, you’ll eventually pick up on the fact that I’m complementing guys’ boyish features (and possibly the fact that I plug my ears and squeal with dramatic disgust at the mention of various womanly parts).  I think ‘coming out’ has a lot less to do with me than the profusion of people who insist on ‘staying in.’  ‘Coming out,’ in my assessment, is little more than allowing yourself to be who you are; it’s the ‘staying in’ that takes the real effort.

I also take what might be a bit of an arrogant/idealistic stance towards the whole notion of defining your sexuality.  ‘Coming out,’ in the sense to which I’ve been introduced to it, involves more than plain honesty: it involves pegging yourself to one extreme or another.  I identify as gay simply because that’s the language people understand – but I’m not attracted to classes of people, I’m attracted to individuals.  There have been isolated women to whom I have been fleetingly attracted – so should I ‘come out’ as bisexual?  I think not.

Needless to say, I quite openly assert that my opinions and experiences are indubitably far different from those of other non-heterosexual people.

What do you think of coming out?

See previous response.  But seriously?  Beyond the nuances that I nitpick, I very strongly support honesty and straightforwardness in all of their forms, and I feel that those are the central bits of the whole ‘coming out’ concept.  Sure, it takes a solid bit of courage to voluntarily assert yourself as a minority.  But think about it.  ‘Gay’ isn’t who you are, it’s a relatively minor component of your personality.  Same way as we can’t (or shouldn’t, anyway) jump to conclusions about a straight person’s character simply based on their straightness.  So, while I personally am not a fan of trumpeting anything about your sex life from the rooftops, I firmly believe that you owe honesty to yourself and to the people who you hold most dear.  Even your most ardently homophobic loved ones usually will, at least in my experience, soften their rhetoric somewhat towards you – you are still much more than whom you fuck.

Tell me about the person you were most hesitant to come out to.

And this is where it gets tricky.  I’m a passive person – consider my bit above about trumpeting from the rooftops.  I take a long time to build trust in people under any circumstances, and I don’t force the issue of my sexuality around anyone I don’t trust fairly deeply.  Although I’m no prude, I’d rather keep quiet when it comes to conversations about sex and ‘wimmen’ around people who aren’t close to me. 

It’s never been a huge issue in my mind – if you know me, if you’re close to me, then you know about my gayness.  My best friend in the world is vehemently fundamentalist Christian, and categorically despises (despised, anyway) those damn homer-sex-uls.  Without giving too many details, I had no qualms making him aware of my predilection once we got pretty close, and, fortunately, we’ve learned a tremendous amount from one another since then.

I suppose what I’m getting around to is that I don’t really have any memories of particularly hard assertions of my sexuality … I may be skipping over some in my mind, but … well, that’s all I can offer.

What was the best and most comfortable reaction you got?

That would be here at Davidson, incidentally.  In fact, as almost every one of my friends up here has become aware of my sexuality, I’ve gotten a heart-warming reaction from them.  Probably the most comfortable was when it turned out that the (straight) guy with whom I was talking had grown up with a gay man in his house, and actually seemed happy that I was gay.  At home I often felt that my sexuality was tolerated; here, I often feel that it’s more deeply accepted.

What kinds of questions have people asked you?

Oh, ho ho – the endless amusement that is questions from hets.  One of the more original questions I heard while up here came from a good straight friend just out of the blue – “I have a lot easier time thinking of liking guys than I do of stopping liking girls – is it the same way for you?”  My answer was a resounding “yes.”

Of course there are the usual “that’s icky” questions and accusations – to which I generally respond with some off-color observation of how much ickier the womanly parts can be.  And, at least amongst my straight male friends up here, I get to field all the “is he hot” questions.  How I love to pretend to be an authority.

I guess I have to mention the people who have asked me why, if I’m gay, I don’t “act that way more.”  Apparently, they think that because I don’t outwardly conform to the gay stereotypes, I must be covering up how I’d normally act.  That question usually launches me into a diatribe about how “gay” is a part of me and not all of who I am; how there are tons of people who behave stereotypically straightly but are constantly suppressing their desire to fuck people of the same sex; and, on my good days, a rundown of the gay “bear” subculture.

What is the biggest challenge that you had to overcome in coming out?

We’ve already been over my feelings about the “coming out” paradigm, but, at the end of the day, the hardest part of being open about myself was trying to peg down what I actually felt.  There was a good time during my adolescence when I was still broadly attracted to women as well as men – be it because of the heteronormative society, the hormones, or just the jaw-dropping beauty of the girls of my town (not likely).  I didn’t have the vocabulary to qualify what I felt, and what I did feel seemed to be changing from day to day and week to week – so I had to resign myself to one of those “I am who I am” kinds of stances.  That’s all well and good, and I’ve sort of tended towards that to this day – but it discouraged me, back then, from being particularly open about myself with others.

What are your thoughts on "gay-dar?"

            Eh, it’s there on some level, I suppose, but it’s unreliable at best.  Especially up here – coming from my backwards hometown to the comparative mecca of civility at Davidson, I had to ‘recalibrate’ a bit to take into account all the straight guys who talk without heavy accents and wear stylish clothes up here.

            I hold that the best ‘gay-dar’ comes from interaction rather than from observation – you maintain eye contact for a beat too long, or you don’t let go right away when you’re shaking hands.  Things like that.

            Also, the boys who go mum when the topic of women comes up?  Or talk about women in a detached and theoretical kind of way?  Often – but certainly not always – it seems that they turn out to be in our boat.

What do you think about the portrayal of gays in the media?

            Better to be portrayed in a positive stereotypical light than none at all.  The media reflects society just as much as it molds it – and in that respect, I feel that it’s pushing hard enough.

Where do you see yourself in 20-25 years?

            Piddling aimlessly around on a beach or lake or mountaintop somewhere.

I don’t really see myself having kids, but I just figure I’ll take it as it comes.  Maybe I will, and maybe it won’t be time yet.  My family has a business; I may end up working there after I’m out in the world for a little bit. 

What advice would you give to someone who was thinking about coming out?

            Honesty and straightforwardness are requisite for any of your interpersonal relationships, but even more so for your relationship with yourself.  ‘Come out’ to yourself first – take a long, hard, open-minded think about who you are.  Then just drop any lies or deceptions you may have been putting up towards your close friends.  In my opinion, it’s better to start with your friends than with your family – for the simple reason that you can pick your friends, so maybe you’ll feel like there’s less risk involved with how they react.  More of them will be OK with it than you imagine, at least after you let their shock wear off.

            By that point, hopefully you’ll feel more comfortable with yourself.  You’ll have some support from some other people – you’ll know that it’s not the damning kind of thing that we can very easily trump it up to be in our minds.  You’ll be more confident, more able to defend your identity.  Perhaps it’s time to tell your family outright.  Perhaps you should just let drop any pretensions at being who you aren’t – they’ll get it if they want to get it.

            The church is harder, if you happen to consider yourself a spiritual person.  Many churches are perfectly willing to accept you as a whole person – even if they (under theologically dubious pretenses) call homosexual behavior a sin, they may well remember that, at least under the Christian theology I’m familiar with, we are all sinners.  If it gets to the point where they want you to “work on it,” maybe it’s time to find a new spiritual home – “ministries” that try to change your sexuality simply do not work.  And I know that Davidson’s church-of-loose-affiliation, the Presbyterian Church (USA), generally has bigger sins to fry than your sexuality; while the national body still officially takes a negative position towards homosexuality, the majority of actual PCUSA congregations are relatively liberal about it.  Homosexuals may enter into ministerial studies, although they may not be ordained, and a number of congregations have performed “blessed unions” of homosexual couples.

With specific respect to Davidson, it bears note that, while it is my (somewhat uninformed) impression that Davidson College Presbyterian Church is quite tolerant, the Charlotte Presbytery (of which DCPC is a part) is thought of as quite conservative, and has recently brought anti-gay measures before the General Assembly (which were later to be defeated by a considerable margin).

The way I see it, the culture at Davidson is just not gay friendly. I don’t see it. Something is going to have to happen much more on a broader scale.  Davidson has a reputation about a lot of things.  Certainly where I was coming from everyone was saying that it’s a pretty conservative place.  It’s obvious that a lot has changed pretty quickly here. 

Anything else?

I came from a conservative place where people didn’t talk about gay people at all.  They pretend it doesn’t exist because they think it’s bad some how.  I don’t have any family influence saying this is bad.  There’s an unspoken understanding between my parents and I.  The first time I realized my parents knew was when I was about 12 or 13.  They know because of the people I hang around with.  My half sister is gay too. My cousin is gay too.  I’m sort of looking forward to surprising them someday.  I don’t have a close, personal relationship with my parents.  It’s sort of a detached, business relationship.  We don’t talk about a lot of personal things.  I say, “I’m going to Andrew’s house after school again.”  They can figure it out from that.  I guess part of it is that I really feel like it shouldn’t be an issue.  I wouldn’t come home trumpeting that I’m straight, so why would I do the same thing because I’m gay?  Being straight isn’t a standard in my family.  My not telling people is more of a laziness thing than anything else.  I didn’t tell my roommate explicitly.  I don’t tell anybody unless they ask me.  It’s a game for me, you see.  My roommate knows, partly because I bitched on and on to him about my close friend Andrew back home.  I have a really cool roommate.  We’re both very quiet, reserved people. 

I feel strongly that it’s a non-issue, and I feel like other people should too.  I sort of have a degree of defensive element going on too.  That comes from the fact that I did come from a town of a bunch of rednecks, and a lot of people aren’t cool with such things.  It’s a good way to get tied to the back of a truck.  I’m a personal person.  I incite people to ask me whether or not I am; so yes I encourage others to arrive at that conclusion themselves.  It’s a way of getting back at the hetero-normativity of society.  Most of the guys on my hall know.  I do things that make it explicit so they’ll ask.  Like “Why did you say he’s pretty? Are you gay or something?” I was like, “yeah.” They were just like “ohh.”

Sexuality doesn’t play a huge part in my life. I feel like it’s much more important to develop yourself.  That’s not really me. I don’t do clubs and people and all that stuff.   I meet people by just being around them. 

I do keep up with political stuff.  I don’t look at myself as any sort of activist.  I try to stay current on other issues too.  I wish we’d quit pushing so hard for things the world isn’t ready to give us.  If we push for gay marriage now, all that’s going to do is piss them off, and it’ll get written into the constitution.  I have an equal rights sticker outside my door. 

            I would say Patterson Court wouldn’t be that receptive of that, but I’ve certainly danced with guys down there before.

I don’t do things specifically for the gay aspect.  It’s just not someplace I feel I necessarily fit in as much.  I’m not necessarily sure that I wouldn’t fit in, but they’re strangers.  The same way I wouldn’t just go down and have dinner at the YMCA. I wouldn’t feel comfortable, I don’t know anyone there.  I like gay people better than straight people.  I’m afraid of extremely flamboyant people, extremes of any sort turn me off.  There’s a built in level of understanding there [with other gay people] and trust.  I generally don’t draw a huge distinction between my friends who are gay and my friends who are straight.