Surprise, surprise, I seem to have been nominated "gay spokesman" in my Queer Theory class. Not really that surprising, if you take into account what Irish Coffee says about me: apparently, my gay-ness can be seen from space! I feel like doing a salute or something now! :)
Back on the track of my de facto nomination (only guy in a class full of gals, so waddaya expect?!), the other day we were dissecting the notion of "gayspeak". And while we pored over research and remarks galore about whether there really is some fabulously mystic language exckusively for gay people, it naturally came to the point that the gaggle of females who make up this particular class looked pointedly at me and asked, so
To my surprise, it wasn't really as easy to deny the accusation as I thought it would be. I mean, I don't think that all gay men look and sound the same - even though some of us do have the infamous "voice" - and then there's also the fact that if there's such a thing called gayspeak, where the hell is lesbianspeak? Hell, here I am, in a relationship with a guy who doesn't come across even remotely gay... so where does that leave the grand theory of "gayspeak"?! And then... there's me. I have the "voice" - if Irish Coffee is to be believed, even the little green men up there who're surveying the planet right now want to get my pants down. I also have the lingo: I refer to my very best friends on this blog in feminine terms, even though they're both men - case in point, SnowWhite's Stepmother and Vivian. And yes, all of our gaynesses can be seen from space - and I honestly don't think we'd like it any other way!
*cue for Pride music*
In the ole days back in Bombay, when I'd get a phone call from SS in the middle of my shoot with the (obviously straight) camera guys, I'd slip into "straight voice" mode without a thought - it would just happen, no conscious move required, really. And SS would snigger at my fake manly laugh - and induce me in every which way to get me tittering in front of the butch camera guys. Just your typical HO!HO!HO! over the more intrinsic HEEHEE, you understand. How's that for "gayspeak", then?
But where "gayspeak" really scores in my opinion, is not so much in the intonations or the voices or the giggles, but in a shared global identity - as corny and a la gay.com as it may sound. Gay men everywhere in the world don't share exactly the same slang, but let's admit it, they come pretty close! Thanks to the internet, porn and gay men holidaying all across the known world, "gayspeak" really isn't very isolated. I may not have been conversant with what "basket picnic" or "call house" or "playing checkers" or "jam fag" or "tea room" meant, when I first came to the States, but even back in good ole Bombay we know the really important stuff like flamers and daddies and aunties and P-n-P and the value of muscle marys!
So, does that mean we speak a wholly different type of language from the rest of humankind? All said and done, that does seem to be stretching things a bit. As SnowWhite's Stepmother exclaimed, when I told him all about "gayspeak" and its connotations, "What rubbish! We're not a bunch of Zulus with all this nonsense about a strange indecipherable language, you know!"
And even though the Zulus might not appreciate it the way he put it, he does have a point. You see, it's like this: there's English... and then there's the Queen's English. :)
V-day Weekend Update: Had a delightful time, up at Irish Coffee's, and despite my gruelling workload of readings etc, we did have time to cuddle on the sofa, cook up some effing fabulous food, drink loads of booze, have mindnumbing sex, and crack some really tough crossword puzzles. Not necessarily in that order, but you do get the picture! :)
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