Page 179 - Some Dance to Remember
P. 179

Some Dance to Remember                                     149

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                  Ryan had his hand on the pulse of Oz. He was also fighting in others
               a battle he was fighting in himself. He wrote:


                      Gays have betrayed essential masculinity by assuming at first,
                  and then wearing too long, the reactionary mask of outrageous
                  freaks. Gay lib’s mistake lies in emphasizing our differences from
                  the mainstream of American masculinity, even with all its macho
                  and feminist flaws.
                      Isn’t there an irony in gay activists marching to mainstream
                  the handicapped while refusing to enter and leaven the American
                  sexual mainstream themselves? Separatist gay heterophobes are as
                  dangerous to us as straight homophobes who want to isolate us
                  in camps. Perhaps we’d gain more ground with straight men and
                  women by demonstrating the many overlapping areas of same-
                  ness, without betraying our human right to live out the one thing,
                  same-sex orientation, that makes us different.
                      Give people a chance to relate. How can straights relate to
                  gay rage except with their own anger?

                  A gay bodybuilder accosted Ryan between sets in the basement gym
               at the Golden Gate YMCA. “You’re dangerous. You want us to come on
               as good little fags. You’re no more than a gay Uncle Tom.”
                  “So,” Ryan said, “who and what’s eating you?”
                  The bodybuilder pointed to Kick pumping out his heavy squats.
               “You’re perverting him.”
                  Ryan laughed. “Kick doesn’t need any help.”
                  “He doesn’t think anyone’s good enough for him.”
                  “He’s right,” Ryan said.
                  “So what does he see,” the bodybuilder ran his hand over his skimpy
               tanktop displaying his big pecs, “in a pencil-necked geek like you?”
                  “He sees I’m not a gym bum,” Ryan pointed toward the bodybuilder’s
               neck, “with red boils on my shoulders from steroids.”
                  The bodybuilder hissed a harsh, sibilant whisper. “I don’t use steroids!”
                  “I’ve never met a bodybuilder yet,” Ryan said, “who used steroids. It’s
               the sport’s best-kept secret.”
                  The bodybuilder moved in close to Ryan’s face. “I bet your boyfriend
               uses steroids.”
                  “Nope. Never.”

                        ©Jack Fritscher, Ph.D., All Rights Reserved
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