Tag: hsc285

I take to writing on Word once again, after a long sabbatical. I had my heart broken early last year. Being gay, the world tends not to really see things in terms of heartbreak for people like me. Most of the world, at least. In more ways than one, I suppose, gay boys don’t have hearts to break because we have better sex lives than most straight people? But then I am generalising as well, and, as a dear friend likes to tell me, ‘stop playing the victim’. So, I shall end victimhood here. Or maybe not.

I come from a family where my sexuality doesn’t seem to bother anyone anymore. Everyone who sees us walking in Pride Marches together says we are all lucky indeed. True, we may be. But when you look closer, you see a lot of things that lurk beneath the surface. And they tend to come out when there is a straight marriage involved.

My sister has always been conservative. She supports right-wing fundamentalism and has a deeply moral streak. She has been supportive of the LGBT cause only because I identify as a gay man. She loves me. Truth be told, my way of being has always irked her because she likes being private, while I like being public about my thoughts and feelings. When it comes to pass that she is planning to wed, my mum gets ecstatic. She wants ‘the only wedding she will ever see’… Unfortunately, if I plan to wed, I must emigrate to a place where gay marriage is legal. Therein itself lies the rub.

In order for my family to truly see me, I cannot talk about people being killed in our community, or about my struggles with my father on a personal front. A father who beat me regularly for being gay and who went out of his way to bestow gifts on my sister, who pleased his straight, masculine heart. No, I cannot make them understand this. I cannot make them understand what it feels like when a man dumps you because he doesn’t have the courage to stand by you against his own family. I cannot make them understand that when my friends live their lives and talk about them with me, there is a difference between being at home and coming home. I cannot explain to them why gay constructs are not the same as straight constructs. How can I explain to them exactly how it feels when society refers to your partner of twenty-odd years as your friend, and you can just nod? Why even bother at this point?

So, when people say how lucky I am, I just nod.

I wish I could explain how it feels when your sister hasn’t spoken to her intended husband about your lifestyle. In essence, about who you are. I won’t even get into how it feels, in general, when your sexuality has to be explained to a stranger and his family in order to gain approval before pending nuptials. I will get into the fact that my sister refrains from mentioning it until I ask her to. Of course, I could just shut up about it and let the other family think I am straight and my partner is ‘just a friend’. I could continue to nod. But then, I wish people would just fucking stop saying I am lucky.

Then, of course, there are moments of envy. I am human. I feel. I wonder why my partner was never given the importance due to him. Why would he, who has taken care of me, my mother, my sister, my aunts and his family, never be given even an ounce of what my straight brother-in-law would be given? Because we didn’t sign a piece of paper? Because we didn’t turn circles around a pot with a fire? Because we didn’t garland each other? I have seen marriages and I have seen marriages. I have seen straight people cheat on one another; I have seen them abuse each other. I have seen them rip the hearts out of each other’s chests. But it’s all okay when they do it. The trick is to do it secretly. The trick is to attend functions and bear sons.

Relatives shall descend en masse. They will wish and they will bless. There will be fixed deposits broken. There will be an outpouring of celebration. There will be food and drink. But through it all, I know I won’t be one of them. I was not one of them when I had my heart broken; I will not be one of them when their hearts merge. People say all love is the same. Love is love. It is true. It is. But my love, by default, was no cause for celebration. Unfortunately, not even by the men I have loved. So that is it.

However, that being said, all I want is for my sister to be very happy. It is not her fault that I am gay. It is certainly not mine, or, for that matter, anyone else’s. So, I shall stand where I am supposed to stand, be happy for my sister, and I shall smile. If that isn’t luck, maybe I do not know what it means to have it.