The F Word

I was recently reminded of the truly potent impact of words, even when not directed at you.

The scene was a departure gate at the Singapore Airport as I lined to board the final leg of my long flight home from Spain. I had spent the previous six and a half weeks travelling some of the world’s biggest and brightest cities; New York, London, Amsterdam, Berlin, Rome , Paris, Barcelona, and Madrid. I had not travelled abroad in 20 years and prior to leaving my excitement and anticipation were tinged with a small drop of anxiety.

I was aware that my travels would take me out of my comfort zone, how would I cope in a country where English is not their first language? How will I work out how to buy a train ticket? How will I know which are the good and bad neighbourhoods etc.

My addiction to some of the big gay blogs perhaps played some part in feeding this anxiety, particularly reports on increasing anti-gay violence in New York and London and in the very catholic Italy. Of course the reality of my travels couldn’t have been more opposite.

I wandered various ‘gay quarters’ peppered with a vast range of gay clubs, bars, cafes and restaurants, rainbow flags leaving little doubt to the orientation of the target patronage. Roaming the streets I was struck by the comfort and confidence in which gay men and women walked around, couples not hesitating to show public displays of affection.

What left more of an impression though was the way groups of young straight revellers didn’t bat an eye at passing women passionately kissing or men holding hands. It was no big deal. Yet in Melbourne I’d witnessed everything from sneers and smirks to outright abuse to same sex couples daring to publicly demonstrate their affection.

By the end of my trip I’d almost forgotten about the notion of homophobia, until I lined to board my final flight home, surrounded by more Australians than I’d seen in six-weeks.

Standing in the long cue I heard a young man say he was looking forward to sleeping in his own bed again, with his girlfriend. His companion said he sounded “gay” being so mushy, and then recalled a time when the first guy and his girlfriend were being all mushy together and said that was “so gay”.

I turned; jolted by hearing the word gay used like some generic insult, but my disapproval was not registered. Then I heard the same guy say “have you heard from Pete lately? Is he still a faggot?” My head dropped in a mix of sadness, anger and cultural cringe. If Spain can overcome its catholic guilt to legalise gay marriage, and inebriated gay and straight youths can mix harmoniously in the streets, surely Australian macho culture can get over its collective homophobia.

INFO: Grant O’Sullivan is a health educator at the VAC/GMHC.