The rehearsals with the gay men’s chorus keep getting better and are starting to become an actual source of joy for me. I still feel extremely anxious for hours before the rehearsal and very shy when I’m there, and I still escape to be outside by myself during our 10-minute break halfway through practice. But overall these rehearsals and the small interactions I am starting to have with other members of the choir are brining me joy. Joy — like the title of one of the songs we are practicing and that we sung beautifully, all together, last night (it was so beautiful, it gave me goosebumps).
I think a big part of it is that some things are shifting in me. On the one hand, I am finding new & old confidence in my own masculinity partly from getting my injuries under control and being more physically active (& thus physically stronger) again, partly from reconnecting with my cis-male climbing buddies, and partly from the success of the inclusive masculinity event I organized/led at the climbing gym and which will be repeated. On the other hand, though, it also has to do with a different approach, on my side, to this gay men’s chorus, to this group of people. I’m starting — or learning — to really see them, hopefully to see them as they are: not at all a homogenous group, but actually a wonderfully varied mix of persons with low voices, most of whom are on the masculine side of the gender-spectrum and most of whom, I assume, are attracted to men/masculinity. A very diverse mix of people who share the love of music/singing and maybe have some other things in common but are also very different from one another in many ways, and yet find common ground in being part of a gay men’s chorus. Find common ground in being comfortable in the closeness, even physical, to other men/males/masculine persons. Find common ground in wanting some closeness, even physical, with other men/males/masculine persons (and not in a creepy or aggressive way). This is huge. It really hit me, clearly, last night. Maybe because I finally loosened up and was able to allow more physical closeness with some of the chorus members.
It is huge because male closeness is taboo in our patriarchal society. As bell hooks, Terrence Real and others have pointed out, part of “becoming/being a man” entails precisely separation: physical and/or emotional separation, distance from other humans, and especially from other “males”. Socialized as an AFAB person I remember how “natural” it was considered that “girls” and even adult “women” could be close and/or affectionate to each other, even physically. In the “male world” and/or presenting as a masculine person, this closeness is taken away: when I presented female and lived in masculine environments, I had to keep a distance, even when I didn’t want it, to ensure there would be no sexual/romantic misunderstandings; since presenting more masculine, I have to keep a distance from female-presenting persons (especially cis-women) to ensure I don’t come across as a “creepy guy” and I have to maintain some distance from male-presenting persons (especially cis-men who look or are straight) to avoid triggering homophobic biases. There are environments where it’s less so, like the camaraderie & intimacy between climbing buddies and/or the intimacy among folks who practice acro-yoga. But in general, there’s always this sense, if you present masculine, that you have to maintain physical (& emotional) distance. In this gay men’s choir we sit very close to one another and it’s almost inevitable for arms to accidentally, unintentionally brush against each other while turning pages or moving in our seats. But it doesn’t feel uncomfortable: it’s neither “creepy” (i.e. nobody is doing it as a “sexual move” on someone) nor something for which someone feels the need to apologize or explain or justify. And then there’s a general sense of closeness, of wanting to be close, even physically, to one another — like the spontaneous hugs or standing very close when talking to each other. It’s not “creepy” or “aggressive” or “making moves on people”: it’s just a desire for closeness that these guys, these persons, including myself, are able to express in this safe space. I hadn’t realized how much this meant to me, how important this is to me. Subconsciously, I knew it and it’s probably one of the reasons I wanted to join this chorus because it fills a need for me that neither my straight cis-male buddies nor my AFAB/nonbinary/fem friends can fill: a shared desire for closeness, including physical, among masculine people. This is the sense in which I am “gay”: yes, I am aromantic; yes, I am asexual/grey-A; but I also enjoy and want and need closeness to other masculine people who enjoy and want and need that closeness, too. A closeness that can be physical and can also be mental, emotional, or in the type of humor we share: even if I was socialized as a woman, now that I am loosening up I can enjoy the “very gay” jokes they crack among each other and the gay double-entendres in the lyrics of some of the songs we are singing. With these gay jokes and gay double-entendres we’re acting silly and boyish but as gay boys, not straight boys, and there’s something very precious and very important in that, because it’s part of reclaiming and owning something that was taken away from us or made hard for us in other environments/circumstances. This is a safe space for us as “gay boys” in whatever way we define our “gay boy” or “gay man” identity. And even if I’m AFAB and aro-ace, I can still revel in — and find joy and affirmation from — this beautiful, shared and explicit desire of closeness to other “male beings”.
The Little Prince and the Fox 