‘Pillow Talk’ and ‘Qchat’ cheers to booze, men

The Temple News’ sex columnist and gay life columnist decided to come together this Valentine’s Day and venture throughout Philly’s bar scene in search of one prize they both had in common: men.

This Valentine’s Day, two columnists for The Temple News found some very special people to spend a snowy February night with: each other. Originally, we planned a sociological dating experiment on a couple of poor saps in the Philadelphia area, but we became distracted after our first pitcher of beer and found ourselves embodying the qualities of what Carrie Bradshaw would call “sexual anthropologists.”

The night began at McGillian’s, a lively albeit small Center City pub offering up these two columnists’ favorite combo: beer and discounts. At $5 a pitcher, the beer made tensions between the sexes immediately apparent. From our first post near the bar, we observed a group of three guys and three gals, who we assumed to be just a group of friends having a couple drinks before their night really started.

And then the chanting began.

The blond male at the table began shouting “Geri, Geri, Geri!” and soon got the entire crowd to join in — including Josh — beckoning the poor girl to chug the rest of the pitcher on their table. Geri, obviously horrified, just kind of shook her head and refused to look anyone in the eye, let alone even glance at the beer.

Tightening up and attempting to guard herself from the crowd’s jeering, Geri was leaning into the very guy who instigated the situation. We came to the conclusion that she was interested in the blond and didn’t want to embarrass herself — even though Roxy, her female comrade on the other side of the table, was more than happy to throw back the rest of the pitcher.

After Roxy took one for the team, we spotted Geri smiling at her blond male friend, hoping to move past the embarrassment of her shyness while simultaneously seeking the approval of the antagonist.

If you’re trying to impress someone amid catchy nineties tunes and a crowd of drunk 20-somethings, a public spectacle involving alcohol is perhaps not the best idea. Gold star for you, Geri.

After becoming very friendly with a pitcher of Walt Whit and a sing-a-long of The Cure, we journeyed to our next — and least favorite — bar, Fox & Hound, which had been recommended to Libby by at least four Temple students.

It was here where our classy, casually dressed selves were forced to wait almost 40 minutes for a waitress to aid us with more beer and attention. We found ourselves playing on our phones, responding to text messages and tweets, while our waitress tended to every other table in the bar. Josh glanced at the table to our right and gasped as he noticed two of his OKCupid “quick matches” sitting less than five feet away from us. While they may not have been matches for Josh, it seemed as though they found matches in each other.

After too much waiting, not enough (read no) drinking and witnessing a 28-year-old in a McLovin’ vest butcher Michael Buble’s Haven’t Met You Yet, we decided enough was enough. It was time to move to our final destination. To the sound of Lady Gaga, we grabbed our coats and swiftly exited the now-on-our-D-list bar.

The Q Lounge was the last and best bar on our anthropological quest. Not too crowded but definitely not empty, the glittering interior was filled with the perfect mix of ages, races and sexual orientations. Its home in the Gayborhood was the perfect place for us to kick back on leather seats with a cosmo or two.

As some friends crawled into the lounge to meet us, we joined the small portion of patrons who were getting down and dirty on the dance floor. Balancing cosmos, gays and “hip swangs” (thanks, Josh), our group finally loosened and soon forgot the disappointment of our previous attempt.

While dancing, we realized there was a level of ambiguity to the crowd. To Libby’s untrained eye, the transvestite in the corner with an older man was just an everyday Barbie look-alike, and Josh was beside himself when the cutest gay in the bar wanted his picture taken with the Pillow Talker herself. And then, there was the question of the four girls – neither a gay in tow, nor one of them setting off our collective gaydar.

Could it be that these attractive women came to a gay bar alone seeking solace from the straight male vultures who seem to permeate the Center City bar crowds? We think it’s more than likely and hope they had an amazing girl’s night out.

The night ended with our heads held high — despite the beer and cosmos — and without guys walking with us arm-in-arm. Despite the lack of flirting experiment, our observations and wickedly enjoyable night made us realize this: If you don’t have someone to exchange stuffed animals and chocolates with this Feb. 14, don’t fret. Valentines come and go, but the relationship a gay man has with his straight female friend is forever.

Josh Fernandez and Libby Peck can be reached at living@temple-news.com.

Branching out in Philly

Dating and hooking up aren’t the only facets of gay life. Columnist Joshua Fernandez sets out to find his place as an individual in the LGBTQ community.

In addition to doing nothing but eating, bar hopping and oversleeping, I spent my winter break trying to accomplish a new goal: getting the most out of gay Philadelphia.

For various reasons, I no longer play a role on the executive board of Temple’s LGBTQIA organization, the Temple Queer Student Union. Between finals and internship applications, the “Where do I go from here?” thought never crossed my mind. Once finals were over and I had an almost all-day nap, I woke up figuring out how I was going to maintain a connection with the community.

I brainstormed lists, Googled “gay Philadelphia locations” and went out with friends. The only problem is that Philadelphia, unlike cities such as New York and Los Angeles, doesn’t have a wide range of social opportunities for young queers.

At some point during break, I became very familiar with the Web site phillygaycalendar.com, which keeps track of venues, events and news for all-things gay in the city. But prior to that, I was forced to rely on frequent trips to Woody’s this break.

My first trip to the infamous gay club during the break was mildly entertaining. I went with three other friends, and we danced and enjoyed a drink or two. At one point, a lesbian friend danced up on me from behind and teased me until the crowd she was with moseyed by us.

A few flirtatious eye games and a drink later, my friends and I exited Woody’s, walked across the street and were quiet for a minute until the only other male in the group blurted, “Why did we go there?”
We all laughed it off and went home.

That Saturday, I returned to Woody’s. This time I was with hometown friends, and we went through the same routine: drink, dance, drink, bathroom, dance, repeat.

I returned to Woody’s the following Wednesday with a crowd, and I’m now so exhausted from Woody’s that I’m positive I could go at least two months without seeing the place.

A couple days later, a friend and I had a guys’ night out and hit up three different venues in the Gayborhood: Knock, Q Lounge and finally, the Tavern on Camac, a little piano bar.

While enjoying the music, drinks and cute specimen, my friend and I talked about how we needed to have nights like these more often. After all, he said, when you’re young and single, don’t you owe it to yourself to have nights like these? How else, besides online dating and personal sites, can one market themselves?

I agreed with him. The only thing is, I’m not just looking for people to date and flirt with me. I’m looking for a connection to the gay community, something I lacked in high school. At some point during the break — possibly after a night of dancing and being surrounded by beautiful women-loving women at the once-a-month party event, Stimulus — I thought about something that occurred when two different groups of friends were in the same place at once.

The one group I was with sat as the other four friends, all female and all lesbian, made vaginal jokes and talked about lesbian- and queer-related things.

As a result of their conversation topics, my one friend looked over to me and said, “So, we’re the only ones at this table that like penis.”

All I could do was nod, while one female friend tried to put an embargo on queer/gender/women’s studies so everyone at the table could speak and relate to the topic.

Looking back on it, I realized two things.

First, for many young queers, gay/straight alliances and LGBTQ groups are a nice starter for meeting friends. For some people, these groups become a critical social outlet that was not available in high school, and that’s OK.

What occurred to me, however, was that scientists and human sexuality experts say one in 10 people is gay. If this is true — and I believe, to an extent, that it is — then QSU is missing roughly 2,800 LGBTQ folk from its organization. Clearly, whether its more or less than the estimated number I pulled out of my head, other Temple queers are around, and either they are not out of the closet, or they choose not to be in QSU and are connected to the gay community in their own ways.

The second thing I realized is that being queer and queer culture and equal rights do matter to me. I enjoy being able to write about queer things in this column and discuss them in an academic setting. But I no longer want people to only associate me with only “gay” or “queer” in mind. I’m someone who enjoys politics, fiction, poetry, journalism, pop culture, quirky family stories, et cetera.

Being queer is only a fraction (OK, maybe sometimes half) of who I am and what I enjoy talking about, and there are other things to me.

A friend and I had this conversation, and with regard to LGBTQ persons who only relate to each other because of their LGBTQ status, she said, “There has to be more to them than whom they sleep with. And if that’s the only way they connect to people, then what are they going to do once they graduate college? They won’t have QSU after they graduate or look for jobs.”

She’s right. But what I’m learning right now is that some people need that outlet in the beginning. Some people need that outlet always. I’m learning that I need a healthy balance of gay and other social outlets, which is why I recommend exploring any and all options in not just gay Philadelphia, but everything Philadelphia.

Being queer shouldn’t define every aspect of your life. It’s a crucial one, but not the only one.

Joshua Fernandez can be reached at josh@temple.edu.

Racy performance raises questioning of the controversy

Adam Lambert’s performance at the American Music Awards received much backlash from the media. Columnist Josh Fernandez thinks it all was blown out of proportion.

I returned to my overpriced apartment after a much needed day trip to Ocean City, N.J., eagerly awaiting the start of the American Music Awards with several Temple friends.

The award show came on, and after an hour passed, I began dozing off. I wasn’t necessarily impressed with this year’s AMAs (mostly because, like many queers, I felt Lady Gaga was robbed of all the awards for which she was nominated). My exhaustion was growing with every minute, and I was on the brink of collapsing on my friend Mackenzie’s shoulders until Adam Lambert came on.

I don’t follow American Idol, and I’ve never heard one of his songs, but I know Lambert because his name is all over advertisements and magazines, so I was intrigued.

Singing “For Your Entertainment,” Lambert caused a majority of Americans’ jaws to drop with his shocking and sexually charged stage performance. Under green and blue stage lights, Lambert walked male dancers attached to a leash, grabbed a male dancer’s crotch and — my favorite — kissed a male keyboardist. At some point, the ABC broadcast went black for about two minutes, and then returned to the end of Lambert’s performance.

My friends’ reactions ranged from, “Wow, that’s hot,” to, “Was that necessary?” I had mixed feelings about Lambert’s act.

Needless to say, a controversy ensued. ABC received thousands of complaints about Lambert’s routine. Good Morning America canceled Lambert’s appearance scheduled for Nov. 25. Tweeters and bloggers went crazy, voicing their opinions all over social networking sites.

And finally — my favorite — The View’s young conservative-in-residence, Elisabeth Hasselbeck, like many who were appalled by Lambert’s AMA debut, said she thought the performance wasn’t appropriate for nighttime television, let alone appropriate enough to re-air on The View, pretty much declaring her love for censorship.

“There was an aggression that came across,” she said in her final remarks on the performance, “and it was subjective, a sexual aggression that came across. So does anyone remember what song he sang or what it sounded like? This is a mistake that Adam Lambert will make time and time again. No one will remember him as a performer or someone with a voice. He needs to smarten up and sing.”

On CBS’s The Early Show, Lambert said the racy aspects of his performance were impromptu and that he didn’t think about the younger viewers possibly watching, mostly because it was a show that aired at 11 p.m. He added his was not the only racy performance at the AMAs: Lady Gaga smashed whiskey bottles on stage, Janet Jackson grabbed a male dancer’s crotch, and Eminem “talked about how Slim Shady has 17 rapes under his belt.”

While considering the truth to his last statements about AMA performers, I was pulled back to yesteryear – 2003 to be exact. At the 2003 MTV Video Music Awards, Madonna stood between Britney Spears and Christina Aguilera who were dressed in bridal-like attire. Madonna caressed their legs, pulled off Aguilera’s garter and kissed both pop stars.

The backlash for that performance was not nearly as absurd as the backlash Lambert is receiving.
No one flew off the handle when Jackson grabbed the male dancer’s crotch. I don’t recall The View’s Hasselbeck – or anyone else for that matter – getting up in arms over Eminem’s horrible, sexist rape remark. And although Lady Gaga is known for her peculiarity, no one complained about her smashing whiskey bottles.

My aunt, during a phone conversation, said she was appalled because “that Adam Lambert” was not the Lambert she and America voted for on American Idol. Pop music artists have to reinvent themselves constantly to stay on top of the industry. This was probably Lambert reinventing himself, albeit very quickly.

When Lambert says the music industry has a double standard, I believe him. If that were Madonna or Spears doing what he was doing, people would be angry or puzzled for a second and eventually shrug it off because that’s what Madonna and Spears are known for.

I hate to jump on the bandwagon with Lambert and cry homophobia, because it’s annoying when a star’s sexuality is thrown into the mix, especially when it’s not warranted. But this incident and the ensuing media storm is a prime example of America’s ignorance.

Lambert isn’t completely blame-free, either. His performance was impromptu, he says, but he had to realize the oral sex simulation would result in a million or more gasps across the country. And while the leash-wearing dancers were possibly not a spur-of-the-moment aspect to his performance, Lambert should realize that America, while younger than many countries, is conservative when it comes to sex.

On some level, he knew what he was doing, whether it was a publicity stunt or something else entirely.

I for one am sick of this double standard. I am sick of the people like Hasselbeck who have an issue with openly expressed homosexuality in performances, who hypocritically say nothing when Jackson has a sexually charged performance or when a sexist pig like Eminem makes crude, insensitive comments about rape.

There is a sexual component to pop music. Interpretations of this music, therefore, will inevitably be found in performances.

After this ordeal, I think we need to make two things very clear: Adam Lambert is in no way, shape or form a gay martyr, and we live in a society that is comfortable justifying it’s homophobia or ignorance by using children as an excuse to barricade queer culture in the closet.

Josh Fernandez can be reached at josh@temple.edu.

Fleeting flirting provides possible hurdle for LGBTQ

After a promiscuous encounter with a not-so-available photographer, columnist Josh Fernandez notices a trend.

Thursday night, several friends and I ventured to South Philly to pregame and decide which trendy, over-priced bar we would invade.

A female friend of mine did some recon at a quaint lesbian bar around the corner from Rittenhouse Square. After exchanging a few BlackBerry and text messages, we walked toward the Center City gay bar, desperately trying to escape the 40-degree fall weather.

After a chilling walk, we arrived at our destination: a side alley where the bar’s entrance was located. Outside the bar was our friend, waiting for us and smoking a cigarette.

“Finally, my entourage is here,” she announced to the two boys accompanying her.

I immediately recognized the one boy as an acquaintance from school. I caught myself staring at the second boy, a photographer, who looked familiar, but I couldn’t figure out where I’d seen him. Once inside, he came over and introduced himself, and I realized we were Facebook friends and that he’d been inviting me to this bar through event invitations for the last several weeks.

My friends and I had drinks, we danced, and the photographer took several photos of us. He flirted with me, invaded my personal hula-hoop and threw a plethora of pick-up lines at me. I didn’t mind since the guy I invited and was trying to flirt with up and left me before we decided on a bar.

The recon friend knew the photographer, so I asked her to once again do a little recon for me and get the scoop. She came back shortly after.

“He has a boyfriend,” she said with a disappointed look.

Out of frustration, I blurted loudly, “Then why is he flirting with me?”

“I don’t know. Come on, let’s go dance,” my friend said, trying to get me to do something to keep my mind from wandering.

I try not to judge people who “cheat” on their significant others. If you have an open relationship or rules as to what constitutes cheating and those rules are followed, then good. But I couldn’t figure out whether that was the case.

An hour goes by, and after a couple of drinks, I jokingly kissed one of my female friends. The photographer saw, pulled me away from her and pushed me against the wall, his hand covering half my face. He was aggressively less than thrilled to see me kissing the opposite sex. He walked away jokingly offering to find me a guy to kiss, which I just shrugged off and continued to dance with my friends.

As my friends and I readied ourselves to leave the bar and brave the cold, the photographer came up to me and we chatted for a little. At some point, we kissed with my friends a few feet away. Our faces parted, so I decided to bust it for him.

“So, tell me about this boyfriend of yours,” I said with a smirk.

“He’s cute, we’ve been together for about a year,” he replied smoothly.

He said he was leaving and that I should walk him out, so I did. As you’d expect, we kissed – and a little more – 10 feet away from the bar entrance, before he dashed off.

I felt like a mess. My only guy friend of the group came outside and was encouraging me to just cut my losses and not feel guilty.

“Look,” he started, “I hope you don’t become as bitter as I am, but after a certain point, you learn that a lot of gay men are incapable of commitment.

“If anyone deserves a little fun,” he added, “it’s you.”

To an extent, that is true. I’m tired of floating along and not finding anyone decent worthy of my time. I’m very over the college dating scene. But I have no way of knowing what the photographer and his boyfriend consider cheating.

Some people don’t consider kissing to be a big deal. For others, kissing is a deal breaker. The photographer and I might have hurt his boyfriend.

All of this, in addition to my friend’s belief that a majority of gay men can’t commit, has me thinking that I was born in the wrong generation. In an ideal world, I would’ve been brought up in an environment where homosexuality wasn’t conflicting with mainstream society, and gay men didn’t get this kind of reputation.

I would also like to point out that it’s not solely an issue for gay men. Plenty of people in the queer community deal with this. Our heterosexual counterparts also deal with this. I think the issue as it relates to queers is a result of two factors. For one, many of us weren’t in nurturing environments where queer dating was acceptable in our adolescence. Many queers are just beginning the sexually active phase they didn’t get to have when they were younger.

The other factor is the influence of the media and, to an extent, preceding generations, both stressing that the queer individual’s attractions need not follow the norms that are established for heterosexual coupling and sexual habits. Anyone who watches Queer as Folk, specifically the charismatic, man-eating character Brian, knows what I’m talking about.

There are gay men out there whose motivations are solely based on sex. Anything more — conversation, commitment, et cetera — isn’t necessary. There’s absolutely nothing wrong this, as long as any action is consensual and both parties are fully aware that it’s sex – nothing more.

At times, I feel like I’m a rare commodity. I love to love, and I love to be in love. I want to take that feeling and let it manifest for an individual. I get a little jealous when I see my straight friends, and the few queer friends, who are in relationships. They seem so genuinely happy, almost all the time.

Right now, I have serious fears that my male friend was right. Perhaps our generation isn’t ready for commitment. Maybe 10 years down the line they’ll be ready.

For now, I’m just going to enjoy my life, and cross my fingers from time-to-time hoping someone worthwhile comes along. And if they don’t come for a while, that’s fine too. Patience is supposedly a virtue.

Josh Fernandez can be reached at josh@temple.edu.

Addressing drag culture and the transgender community

‘Tis the season for trick-or-treating, candy chomping and costume wearing. And if you’re not a fan of those, at the very least, you can curl up your couch and enjoy a cult classic, such as The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

The movie, starring Tim Curry as Dr. Frank N. Furter, the “sweet transvestite from Transsexual, Transylvania,” is overtly sexual in nature. The British rock comedy paints Furter as a lunatic and sex crazed mad scientist, who is still loved by audiences everywhere who watch the film religiously or don a Furter Halloween costume.

Furter is merely fictional, and the end of the film reminds us all that he is just Tim Curry in drag. That’s the thing: He’s playing a transvestite, but he’s merely a man fulfilling a role for entertainment purposes.

But we have transvestites and drag queens in the real world and here in Philadelphia. Drag kings and queens get decked out in their best attire for the annual Henry David Halloween Ball. Lisa Lisa’s Thursday night shows at Bob & Barbara’s, at 15th and South streets, are well received – and full of drag performers.

Many mistakenly think of transvestites and drag queens as synonymous terms. The fact is, transvestites cross-dress, or wear the clothing of opposite sex to fulfill some sort of gratification, which can sometimes be sexual. Drag queens are different and are typically men who dress in female clothes and put on makeup for some sort of routine. The term for females impersonating male counterparts is drag king.

Regardless, my concerns arise when people in and outside of LGBTQ culture start associating any type of cross-dressing with transgender individuals.

“There’s a difference between being a transgender person and a cross-dresser,” Director of Women’s Studies Laura Levitt said. “They are different kinds of identifications. Cross-dressing can be done by straight people and can be performative, using the performative space as a venue for trying things out.”

Not knowing the difference is mostly a matter of being misinformed, and sadly, that’s the fault of media, society and even individuals within the LGBTQ movement.

As a friend once said, the “B” and the “T” are often left out in the alphabet-soup acronym for queer culture and the battle for equality. I will continually bring this up in succeeding columns, because it’s the truth. When we leave out or neglect people from our community who aren’t fitting in with the mainstream idea of queer, we’re doing them and ourselves a great deal of injustice.

To be a transgender individual as opposed to someone who is cross-dressing as a drag queen or king or transvestite is very different.

“A drag performance is not the same thing as a transgender person working on performitivity of their gender identification in the culture, and the stakes are higher,” Levitt added.

Those stakes include but are not limited to discrimination of various forms, verbal harassment and violence being the more extreme forms.

In regards to any confusion of transgender and drag or transvestitism Ash Yezuita, a junior history and Asian studies major, says “it’s problematic because at the end of the day [cross-dressers] can take off the clothes and be done with it because they’re still a guy dressing in girls clothes and visa versa.

“But in the trans community, to sort of cross them is completely off the mark because it doesn’t matter whether or not I’m wearing girls or guys clothes, it’s my body, and it’s who I am,” he added.

It’s important to understand this difference. In spite of it all, there are some things drag culture specifically does for the LGBT community that are positive.

When I went to Bob & Barbara’s for the first time with my friends, I never expected to see such a diverse crowd, and by that, I’m referring to the equal ratio of queer to straight attendees. When Lisa Lisa began her drag show, everyone in the crowded bar was enthusiastic and eager to interact with her and her fellow drag queen performers.

My assessment is that drag culture is somewhat helpful in presenting individuals of all backgrounds with a positive message about the LGBTQ community.

Cross-dressing — whether it be for role fulfillment as in the case of transvestitism or for entertainment purposes for drag queens and kings — has its pros and cons. Stereotypes about the gay community can perpetuate and add confusion about transgender individuals.

If we can keep in mind that it’s all different and take into account that drag culture can be used to the LGBTQ community’s advantage, we can sit back and enjoy the show, whether that be Lisa Lisa’s Thursday nights performances at Bobs & Barbara’s or The Rocky Horror Picture Show.

Joshua Fernandez can be reached at josh@temple.edu.

Acceptance of LGBTQ eases coming-out jitters

Since attending the National Equality March in Washington, D.C., columnist Josh Fernandez has gained an appreciation for improved attitudes shown toward the gay community.

I was sitting in my apartment last Sunday with a cup of coffee in one hand and a copy of Naked Lunch in the other, getting ready for a stroll in William S. Burrough’s acid-trip world, when my BlackBerry buzzed. On the other end was a friend from back home, eager to catch up. I was excited to hear from this friend, so I put aside my book and coffee and chatted with her about everything from family goings-on to my mountain of homework.

I mentioned that the upcoming week would be busy for the Queer Student Union Executive Board, myself included, because National Coming Out Week 2009 started the next morning.

Then, the conversation shifted to the ages at which people come out.

My friend said her next-door neighbor, a 14-year-old girl, told her about a friend at her school who came out.

“She told me her friend comes from a very religious family,” my friend said, “and his parents would kick him out if they knew he was gay.”

At that point, every hair on my arms stood. A chill ran down my spine. Suddenly, the mountain of homework on my coffee table didn’t matter much.

The girl, my friend explained, comes from a family rooted in ignorance, but in spite of her surroundings, the young girl was upset that her gay friend could be tossed out of his house like a garbage bag.

It shouldn’t surprise me that our society is moving progressively in favor of the LGBTQ community. It shouldn’t surprise me that each generation is more accepting than the last.

But when I see even the slightest shred of evidence that someone young from my hometown is this supportive, it gives me hope, something I’ve been missing lately – and something no person should be without.

“The only thing they have to look forward to is hope,” the late Harvey Milk – the first openly gay politician ever elected to public office – once said. “And you have to give them hope, hope for a better world, hope for a better tomorrow, hope for a better place to come to if the pressures at home are too great. Hope that all will be all right. Without hope, not only gays, but the blacks, the seniors, the handicapped, the ‘us’es’ will give up.”

I want to share my renewed hope, in the names of people like Matthew Shepard, a gay student from Laramie, Wyo., whose murder led to attempts at expanding federal hate-crime law, and Milk – people who’ve been hurt for being LGBTQ.

To accomplish this, I went to the National Equality March in Washington, D.C., Oct. 10-11.

At first, I was against marching in the nation’s capital because I have LGBTQ concerns on a state level. LGBTQ Pennsylvanians are denied certain rights, basic rights unrelated to marriage equality or the right to serve openly in the military.

Staying here to win a battle of a smaller scale at OutFest, where Senatorial candidates Arlen Specter and Joe Sestak were in attendance, seemed like a better idea.

But after my epiphany of hope, I decided to be greedy. I’m starving for recognition as a citizen of equal status when I’m standing next to my straight counterparts. Equality is the twinkle in my eye, and there’s no way to rid me of that twinkle until everyone in the LGBTQ community acquires equality.

And if that means we need Congress to see us in numbers on their lawns, so be it.

So I went to Washington, D.C., with my friends. We participated in the array of events and attended the many speaking panels. We met LGBTQ people from across the country. And on Sunday, after staying up ridiculously late, we woke up exhausted, threw on our “Legalize Gay” T-shirts and marched to the west lawn at the U.S. Capitol.

Our drive home was silent, yet triumphant.

It was difficult waking up Monday. I was drained, and I had a Mount Everest-sized pile of homework waiting for me. But being a part of something so historic was worth the agony of having to spend another night catching up on Naked Lunch.

Josh Fernandez can be reached at josh@temple.edu.

LGBT lingo an issue of comfort

While some LGBT are reviving slang, others are opting not to.

A couple days before the stress of finals last spring, my roommate and I threw our friend a 21st birthday party. After having a couple drinks, everyone in the room began chitchatting about random topics, such as “fag hag,” a term used for females who are close friends with gay men.

One of our female friends said she though the term was incredibly offensive. She said it’s used to describe unattractive women who are so incapable of finding male suitors, they rely solely on the friendship of gay men.

Two other gay male friends and I laughed at this and tried to debate her.

“I am not a fag hag,” she said. “I am perfectly capable of finding my own guys.”

I didn’t understand my female friend’s issue with the fag hag label. She’s a very attractive girl — who has a boyfriend — and she is an unbelievable pillar of support for her LGBT friends.

After surfing on the Web for a half hour, I noticed many entries and posts on Web sites agree with this stance on the popular gay slang word. The Free Dictionary said the term fag hag is “an impolite way of referring to a woman with a lot of male friends who are [gay].”

The National Lesbian and Gay Journalists Association devoted an entire blog post to the term, after a National Public Radio interview segment of Tell Me More expressed that fag hag was an outdated, now pejorative word to describe straight female allies.

After reading about the term from both sides, I began to think of the wide range of terms and labels in the LGBT culture. Straight allies aside, we tend to lump everyone within the community into certain “boxes” or labels.

There are the general ones such as the “fag” and “dyke” box. Many gay and lesbian persons are “taking back” these words for self-empowerment and to alter the words’ offensive intents.

Then, we have the extremely specific boxes such as “lipstick lesbian,” a feminine girl who is often attracted to other feminine girls; “twinks,” a subdivision of gay males who are overly slender and have little or no body hair; and “bears,” another term used for burly gay men who have a lot of body hair.

Many other pejoratives for the LGBT community exist but are either outdated or not used as often as the aforementioned terms. A term that became offensive in the past several years, for instance, is “transsexual.” The term — used to describe a male or female who went through surgical procedures to become the opposite sex — is rarely used, and the preferred word is the umbrella term for all things dealing with non-normative genders: transgender.

This is the opposite for the word “queer,” once seen as offensive. The word is now used as an empowering umbrella term for all things LGBT.

Last year, the LGBT organization on campus changed its name from Common Ground, a title that wasn’t indicative of the group’s member base, to Queer Student Union. While members were generally pleased with the name change, others found it offensive and thought other students or organizations not affiliated with QSU wouldn’t take the group seriously because of the history of the word’s usage.

All these terms, whether ridiculously funny or insulting, are used by both the LGBT community and our straight counterparts.

My friend and senior women’s studies major Arielle Catron, QSU’s financial director, said the meaning behind the word changes depending on the person using it and the way it’s used – whether that be reclaiming the term in a positive way or just for kicks and giggles.

“If [an LGBT friend] jokingly called me a ‘dyke,’ it’s not the same as if someone I barely know, or someone outside of the community called me a ‘dyke,’” Catron said.

“Some people like to use [those terms] jokingly, but not all people like using it jokingly,” she added. “It depends on the individual.”

Catron was right. I see the importance of being able to reclaim words, but the LGBT community is made up of so many different personality types that I’m not sure everyone is comfortable reclaiming a word or using it for jokes with close friends.

Last year two guys called me a faggot as I walked by the Dirt Lot, and it wasn’t said in a manner that meant for it to be reclaimed – nor was it said jokingly.

The tone these guys used was malicious. They said it compellingly, with such hate you’d have thought I’d done something as awful as burning down one of their houses.

Rare instances like these keep me from being able to reclaim “fag” or “faggot.” For this reason, I realize reclaiming a word is relative to the individual. If you are not comfortable reclaiming a word, you are under no obligation to do so.

If being called a twink is something that bothers you, don’t identify with it. Should a friend jokingly call you a dyke, let them know it offends you. If you associate the term fag hag with unattractiveness and low self-esteem, ask your friends to just refer to you as their super-cool straight ally.

But if you are one of those people who can adapt and alter your personal meaning of a word, by all means, reclaim it.

Maybe there will be a day when reclaiming a word like fag completely extinguishes its negative meaning. When that day comes, and I can leave my associations with such words in the past, you can count on me to be walking by, wearing a white T-shirt with the letters F-A-G spray painted on it.

Joshua Fernandez can be reached at josh@temple.edu.