‘I don’t get why it’s such a shitfight,’ Ahmed replies. His hand is rubbing Curtis’ shoulder. ‘We’re out here creating something for our customers. The space guys want and need. If you don’t like it, or it’s not for you, just don’t come. Why attack us?’
‘What are youse gonna do?’ I ask Curtis. ‘You’re not going to back down, are you?’
Curtis stands up. ‘Over my dead body,’ he says.
Curtis reaches out to Xander via DM on Insta, and offers a meeting. His plan is to implore Xander to be tolerant – to live and let live, let the bar carry on in peace, and stop fanning the flames for harassment of the bar in person and online.
It doesn’t work.
On Thursday morning, Xander declines the meeting, point-blank:
Inclusion isn’t up for conversation, Curtis. No to bigotry. Do better! Or you reap what you sow. xo
‘Okay, he’s just operating in bad faith,’ Curtis rants, aggressively scooping pre-workout into his shaker cup.
‘I hate him,’ Zeke blurts out.
He looks almost startled at his own anger spilling over; frankly, I am too.
What set him off, earlier this morning, was the article Xander Sullivan had published inThe Guardian. It was a stupid-arse take that got us all groaning at the table. The title was:Are Gay Men Too Problematic to Remain in the Queer Community?Xander’s article attacked homosexual men for being too promiscuous and hypersexual, full of male privilege, attracted to toxic masculinity and patriarchal norms, overrepresented in substance abuse and mental illness statistics, constantly taking our shirts off at bars, which promotes body shaming, and addicted to porn.Which begs the question – do we really belong in the LGBTQIA+ community?Xander concluded.We have to do better if we are going to be worthy of the company of our beautiful queer cousins.
The ‘related articles’ at the bottom of Xander’s piece included a link to an op-ed published on the same site by a straight woman a week ago, titled:Why Being Straight and Cisgender Doesn’t Make My Queerness Any Less Valid.
‘This is batshit insane,’ Zeke said flatly.
‘Completely unhinged,’ I said. ‘But so are his followers.’
‘This article hates us and shames us for what we are,’ Ahmed said. ‘Gross.’
‘The comments the bar’s been copping on our social media are tapped, too,’ Zeke reported, scanning them. ‘Everyone hates us for different reasons, but they all hate us. Homophobes and so-called progressives. Nobody’s got our backs.’
‘Don’t go all conservative on us,’ Ahmed said. ‘Plenty of good people out there still.’
‘I would never go conservative, yuck,’ Zeke said. ‘I’m saying both extremes are fucked, and we’re in the crosshairs of both, so we’re fucked, too.’
It does feel that way.
I’m reassured by a chat with Reyna later that morning, over coffees at Mooba in Wembley.
‘People do have your backs,’ Reyna assures me, choosing a sachet of raw sugar instead of white. ‘Normal people don’t care about gay-scene infighting. People don’t even know this is happening unless they’re chronically online. Trust me, common sense isn’t dead yet.’
I want to believe her, but it’s hard when everywhere you turn there seems to be another guillotine slicing at our necks.
When everyone else is out of the house, and I finally get an hour alone, I smash my guitar into pieces on the cement bird bath in the courtyard.
I never want to make music again.
DM #4
Bet you thought you’d gotten rid of me cos the pride game is over, didn’t ya, Big Dog?
It’s fun to see you crash and burn like you deserve. I’ve watched that TikTok of the Eagles fans booing you at open training about twelve times.
But I’m done playing. I gave you so many chances.
You’ve got 48 hours to tell the truth, or I will.
At Sunday’s game, you’ll be the first gay AFL player – in front of a whole stadium.
