"It's a good thing that 'chic' is a french word. It belongs to the
French
completely. For one, they can say
it properly: it is nothing like cheek, or chick without the 'k'.
Instead,
whisper the word sheikh under your breath a few times
starting with a quiet shhh and ending with a strong k, shhhheikh!
Secondly,
french people can be chic without thinking; it comes
as naturally to them as breathing. And lastly, they do it really
fabulously.
True chic is a matter for those with refined tastes. It is
not loud, it is generally described as 'an effortless look achieved at
great
effort'. And, it's very sexy." attitute magazine.
What has this got to do with the pressures to conform? Well, the
word
'chic' aptly describes the reason why I have not conformed. And the
reasons
name for all intents and purposes, was Marc. 'Choose Life' - one of
the
maxims of 90's cinema. I chose life, just a life a little different
from
societies norm.
Marc was never your your typical boy-next-door type. He was the
Adonis who moved into the house across the road, and had a French
mother and
an Irish father. Emotions are illogical things. When we met for the
first
time, a connection was made and a friendship forged. As we grew
inseparable,
the friendship began to develop, and we both felt something so right.
Something that couldn't be the unnatural passions that we were warned
about,
and that inspired Bosch's paintings.
Trouble brewed in paradise however, and it did not take long to
realise
what had happened. I had become involved with someone of my own sex.
The
feelings of guilt and uncertainty took root, infecting my idyll like
briars
in a prize garden. Isolation fertilised those thorns as Marc decamped
for
the fertile land of England.
My island floated toward oblivion. I could not confide in anyone. "It
might
go away", "maybe it's just a phase", "I'll grow out of it". I took
refuge in
music. I was not playing the piano. I was the piano. My fingers
expressed
the pent up emotional turmoil that Catholic upbringing suppressed.
Catholicism is a wonderfully sadistic regime. conform and you will be
happy
for ever and ever. Amen. Don't conform and you are left with a guilt
so
deeply rooted that it forms a part of your being. Ah well, at least
you have
the warmth of hell and the most beautiful angel - Lucifer - to look
forward
to! Or have they been abolished along with limbo and praying for the
salvation of the 'black babies' ?
Somehow, questioning one of society's norms led to questioning
another,
and another. "I close my eyes in order to see", said Paul Gauguin.
Shutting
out the views and influences of others and focusing on your beliefs
and
truths opens your eyes to see the world differently. All my questions
and
emotions flowed down from my mind, through my arms and into my fingers
as
they caressed the piano, producing a music that was more than the
backdrop
to a hotel bar. But 'no man is an island unto himself' and a few other
castaways came along with lanterns on the mind.
A friend I'd only known a few months 'came out' to me i.e. revealed
her to
me that she's gay. We soon became even closer
thanks to her honesty and openness. Then a more long running
friendship ran
the same course, and I found out that the two
were going out with each other. My inbred homophobia raged up like a
fire,
fuelled by jealousy, but soon subsided as I realised
my own hypocrisy. But I couldn't unburden my thoughts on them. It's
the
worst thing in the world: the inability to express
something for fear of rejection : a ridiculous notion in this case but
such
is the power of internal guilt. ( I did finally tell them,
months later. They already knew. )
You see, when you realise fully what homosexual means and has come
to
represent, the potential for catastrophe overwhelms you. Immediately
you
think, what will my parents say?
My friends were the lucky ones. The first ones mother said,"Really!
So, who
do you fancy, is it....". The second ones mother
took s while to get used to the idea. But mine - well, I knew what my
parents would say. Even though I found out that one of
my siblings is also gay, and that my parents knew this, they still
reacted
very negatively. They were the ones who took the
initiative, holding all the cards. I was left stunned as a deer in
front of
headlights. I had no idea, not a hope in the world. My
brother had moved out within three days of their finding out, but I'm
stubborn . I was determined to get acceptance, or at least
recognition. At this stage my sexuality was just another part of me,
in my
opinion.
It has been compared to a vocation in that neither will leave
you.
Both follow you until you accept and embrace them. I didn't choose to
be gay
no more than I chose to like music. I just do. Even today the urge is
there
to hide and pretend to be someone I'm not, but usually I don't bother.
the
last time I tried, the person I was talking to turned out to be gay
also!
My parents do their best to be good Catholics and ignore that whole
section
of my life, which is understandable. Conversely, I admire them for
holding
fast to their values. That part of my life I share with my surrogate
family
that is made of my friends and their families. A lot of my friends are
gay
and have been on the same emotional rollercoaster I was on, or one
similar,
so the shared experience gives birth to a closeness similar to that
forged
by victims and survivors of accidents and tragedies.
If, according to another film on this decade, "Life is like
a box
of Chocolates", then my box is simply by a different manufacturer. And
what
box of chocolates if without a turkish delight or toffee penny that
someone
is bound not to like? In my case, the pressures to conform were
nothing when
challenged by human emotion and the power of it's music.
by ebby.
