Rochford isn't where it's at for gay men
A good or a bad thing? For Rochford? For gay men?
Image: I don’t know who the fellow is or where he is. But he is proud; certainly no shrinking violet. It looks as if it could’ve been taken in Rochford: no, I’ve never been to Rochford, but I do know they don’t do Pride there. But, if Brussels can have scaffolding in eternity, then, Rochford’s rights to scaffolding may not be crimped or curtailed. Scaffolding rights for all!
The Guardian has published in its opinion columns a piece by James Cottis entitled Let me tell you what it’s like being gay in the straightest town in England and Wales. Snappy, eh? I hesitate to reproduce it in full, unlike its title, so I shall summarise it for you, after which you can read my response to the newspaper’s editor, which is solicited at the foot of the article: send them yours, if you have one to send. There’s no guarantee that The Guardian would publish it, or that it’ll publish mine, for that matter. But you can also copy it in here as a comment, and that may secure for you, if not me, a modicum of notoriety. Question is: why would you? The answer’s below.
Rochford has a self-stated LGB+ population of 1.6% and is where Mr Cottris was born, around 1980, and grew up. James is gay and knew he was when he was 15, in around 1995. That’s of significance, because I am 20 years James’s senior. I was 15 in 1976. I think the Rochford of 1995 may not have been unlike the Leeds of 1976. James and I share one drinking locale, however. We’ve both been to Heaven and, so it seems, survived the experience. It was in Heaven that I was winked at by none other than Freddie Mercury. That may sound like a claim to fame but, to be honest, I think Mr Mercury winked at most people. He’ll likely wink at me again the next time I see him, in Heaven.
All that aside, Rochford, aside from not being very gay in allure, then or, indeed, now, is where James entered politics, which engendered within him a sense of duplicity, what Oscar Wilde might have dubbed Bunburying, in reverse: straight boy (Algernon), to melt into the landscape of Rochford, when in town; and Conservative party member (like “visiting Bunbury”) when doing politics in London, down in the country. My metaphor, unlike the Reverend Chasuble’s in the same play, being “from bees”, is drawn from the play as a whole: The Importance of Being Earnest. It is a play of words and it is a play on words, many a word of which, though spoken in jest, was and is true; for, if no one else was, Mr Wilde would be made only too aware of what it means to be played with by a dyslexic boxer, and boxed in by a player; what it means to be earnest and what it means to come out, especially in a court of law.
When encountering Rochforders in Heaven, James would dismiss his presence there with a toe-curlingly cringeworthy “I’m not gay, I’m here with friends.” I think you can nowadays buy teeshirts that say “I’m not gay, but my friends are.” (I may one day have one printed that says “I’m not Marxist, but none of my friends is.”) Ultimately it comes down to this: can you be abhorred by section 28 and still dance with Liz Truss? Honestly, the only thing that surprises me about the question is that Liz Truss can dance. At least that’s one thing she can do. Yes. You can dance with the devil, but that doesn’t mean you support him with all your soul (if he but knew that). If there’s many a slip ’twixt cup and lip, much is the distance between a dance and wedlock. Said section 28 was that of the Local Government Act 1988 (or clause 28, in the bill to that act - yes, it got our goats long before it was enacted); it applied to England and Wales until 2003 and to Scotland until 2000. Introduced under Prime Minister Margaret Thatcher, it outlawed the teaching in schools of homosexuality as an acceptable “pretended family relationship”. Which is daft, because “pretended” means “not real”; so, teachers were not permitted to say that gay families are not real; so, I suppose, they could say, “I cannot tell you, children, that homosexuality is a pretended family relationship; so, I will tell you that it is a real one, instead.” Nit-picking aside, it shows that an idea, while not patentable under industrial property law, can be a devil to dance with of a job to succinctly tie up just using words. Perhaps that’s why they’re not patentable. Legislators can best decide in their own minds - for they invariably have two in such matters - what in Heaven’s name they actually mean, instead of tortuously endeavouring to not seem like, while being, Orwell’s Thought Police. (It’s in Wikipedia.)
In the end, James asks: why don’t the elderly residents of Rochford come out? Why don’t any residents, of anywhere, that don’t come out not come out? There are some people who get rich and hesitate about telling anyone. Just as I hesitated about reproducing the referenced Guardian article. The answer (this is the answer I promised you up above) lies in whether the party in question considers there is anything to be gained by the revelation; and whether there is anything to be lost.
I believe that what a gay man or lesbian gains, without question, by coming out is their self-respect, the right to stand before a mirror and regard oneself with sanctimonious honour - aye, and richly deserved at that. It’s a right that, exercised, can spell demise. That’s why it is such a win. A win by which all can eventually be lost, as it was for Oscar Fingal O’Flaherty Wills Wilde. It always has been and, alas, I fear it evermore will be.
The Guardian’s article is cited here as a point of reference that has given rise to these thoughts. If you wish to know what it says verbatim, then you can go there and read it (there’s no paywall). But, to reproduce it here would be tinged with copyright considerations, and by précising it, I can add in my own quips and humour-laden commentary, besides talking about Oscar Wilde and George Orwell, since this blog lies in the realm of “fair comment”, but it is not plagiaristic or a breach of copyright. Any coming-out is likewise dictated by the benefit to be had from doing so and, as in my case, the inevitability of confronting one’s loved ones with the news sooner or later anyway, coloured by the prospect of the other half answering the phone at some point.
As I say, my letter may not be published by the newspaper. But, by me, it is:
Two matters. No. 1: can one with a clear conscience associate with a party whose politics has at some time clashed with one’s own beliefs, stance or personality? Like being Black, but supporting a party whose members perhaps slave-traded centuries ago? I believe so: party politics is about building a future. Members help to build it. You cannot build politics from outside politics, unless it’s, what? A revolution? The Conservative party is not fundamentally anti-gay. But members of parties, generally, may be. The fictional Billy Elliot was working class, but the ballet dancer’s miner father was no easy win-over. It’s fiction, but it’s also reality.
No. 2: this is a positive piece. You can come from a marginally gay town and not feel marginalised, and this is good to hear. I know other towns, like Palm Springs, California, which has 3 rules of 60: 60% of the population are gay; of them, 60% are over 60 years of age; yet, personal safety, while no great issue, is still a matter of workaday concern there. As are loneliness, drug abuse and occasional hedonism. I guess Rochford has its share of those.
There may be no night club or Pride rally in Rochford. But that may precisely mean that you’re in a better place, if only because Oslo’s shooter chose Pride as the moment to strike. And, if you’re no oil painting, there’s less competition. Bright side, eh?