Simpson is the editor of “Anti-Gay,” an acerbic collection of essays that skewer the petty queer establishment. It’s refreshing to discover a fellow traveler, having been castigated as a “self-hater” more than once for daring to critique cheesy gay culture.
An excerpt from a Simpson-penned screed:
Isn’t it just fabby to be gay? Gay is, after all, good, and everyone fortunate enough to be gay is, of course, glad — when they’re not too busy feeling proud. Which is perfectly understandable since gays, as we all know, have the best clubs, the best drugs, the best underwear shop and the best time. In fact, gays are so glad and proud that they have a big, sweaty street party every year to show the world just how glad and proud they are and what great underwear they have.
As The Times of London review for “Anti-Gay” summarized, “oppression and prejudice do not become legitimate simply because they happen to be practised by the previously oppressed.”
Naturally, Simpson is reviled by the PQE. They don’t take kindly to those who question the orthodoxy, which makes it even more fun for contrarians like myself. We should continue challenging their stranglehold on the conversation. They don’t speak for me. Neither does Rosie nor the mopey guy from “Grey’s Anatomy” nor whichever boy bander came out last week.
Neither do the money-grubbing, do-nothing indigation councils like the Human Rights Campaign. And neither do pandering celebrities like Cyndi Lauper (although being a fag hag can prolong one’s career).
Why continue beating this drum? Selfishness, mainly — I’d prefer a more interesting community. You know, diversity.
And I also remember being a teen, driving down to the Tara theater to see “Torch Song Trilogy.” I was still coming to terms with my sexuality, but the movie depressed the fuck out of me … literally.
I didn’t want to live a life surrounded by the kind of melodramatic queens depicted in that flick. I had no interest in being a whiny, self-absorbed cliche. As a result I continued living a lie for a few more years. I blame Harvey Fierstein. I bet watching Sean Hayes has kept a few gay teens in the closet, too.
So, once again, the mantra: We’re here, we’re queer and we’re not all caricatures.