In Sydney, being gay is fairly safe. Also, being my hometown, I know where it isn’t.
Out on a Friday night in the CBD? Probably not so fine to hold your partner’s hand. In the Shire, ever? Would also avoid.
Travelling makes everything confusing. I’m in Europe at the moment – and sure, most of Europe is pretty damn tolerant. I had no problem holding my partner’s hand anywhere in Amsterdam, where they’ve been gay married for 15 years now, or in Berlin, where you’re more likely to bat an eyelid at someone wearing colour than a homo, but there have been a few other places where I’ve been more hesitant.
Largely that’s a product of not knowing the area. Having lived in Sydney for years now, I know most of it pretty well: where I’m safe, where’s questionable, where you couldn’t drag me blindfolded. In a new city, you don’t have that luxury. And as a gay person in a new city, often you can’t take that risk. Yesterday, for example, I saw a man glare at me as I put my head on my girlfriend’s shoulder. In Sydney, knowing my surrounds, I might be bold enough to take his glare on the chin, and kiss her out of spite. In a new city, you don’t what the area is like, what the people are like, whether they’d back you or him.
Mostly when I travel, I gravitate towards gay areas. When a friend asked me for travel recommendations recently, I could only give her advice on where the best gay bars are. However, on this trip, I went to the one of the most heteronormative places that exist in this world.
I went to Disneyland.
Sure, the Disney parks in the States have their gay days, and Walt Disney himself was most definitely a homo (but I guess if you ask me, everyone’s a homo, so I’m not really a reputable source), but the Disney empire survives on the nuclear family – just look at literally every Disney film, not to mention the family deals at every hotel, ride and restaurant. Disneyland is about family, and straight families at that.
So, as my partner and I roamed the streets of this magical land, I have never felt more out of place. Mostly because I’m 26 and had no small children accompanying me, but also because I was there, and queer. Of course, gender is far more than just presentation, but as far as it seemed, I was surrounded by hetero, nuclear families. No single parents, let alone gay ones.
And for once, despite being stared at more than I have in a long time, I felt safe. It’s Disneyland! No respecting adult would make a scene about the homosexuals in front of their children. I felt visible (so goddamn visible, the staring was insane), but like I deserved a place there.
Often when confronted with the position of being the only (obviously) gay in the village, one has a sense of duty: to exist, and thus to educate. By simply being there, holding my partner’s hand, I felt like we were showing these children that yes, we exist – perhaps only in the land where princesses and talking animals exist, but yes, gay people also exist. Being surrounded by children forces adults to be civil, so even if anyone had an issue with us (and the staring indicated they did), they couldn’t really do all that much about it. So we were ourselves, and proudly so.
And obviously, there’s something fun about kissing in public when you know everyone’s watching (or gawping).
[Above:Disneyland Paris courtesy Wikimedia Commons]
This Week:
This week sees another instalment of About Life at Tatler Sydney on Thursday July 21, this time featuring Cunningpants [below]. As a special treat, organiser Rohan has created scents for each DJ – an aroma installation – that will waft through the venue.
Also on Thursday July 21 is a special R&B version of No Lights No Lycra – an hour of dancing in the dark designed for you to get sweaty to some of your favourite beats without having to care about looking good. So prepare to get red-faced to Destiny’s Child, TLC and Salt-N-Pepa at the Main Hall on Church Street, Newtown.
Finally, on Sunday July 24, don’t miss House Of Mincegod Lovertits’ birthday party at 77. Featuring DJ Gemma from 8pm until 3am, this free event will be the best way to kick the “I’m not at Splendour” blues.
