What About the Guys Who Do Fit the 'Gay Stereotype'?

The male athletes who've come out recently reinforce the obvious: Gay men can be masculine. But people should also be accepting of men, gay or straight, who don't conform to traditional gender norms.
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When Los Angeles Galaxy midfielder Robbie Rogers took the pitch on Sunday, he became the first openly gay man to play on a major professional team in the U.S. (Danny Moloshok/Reuters)

A couple weeks ago, Mark Carson, a 32-year-old gay man dressed in a tank top, cut-off shorts, and boots, was walking with his friend in the West Village when they were approached by Elliot Morales. "Look at you faggots," Morales allegedly said. "You look like gay wrestlers." Morales followed the men down the street shouting anti-gay slurs before fatally shooting Carson at point-blank range just blocks from the Stonewall Inn. Carson's murder comes at a time when anti-gay crimes in New York City are on the rise, according to the NYPD. There have been 29 reported this year, up from 14 in the same period last year, even as hate crimes overall have declined during that time by almost 30 percent.

This recent uptick in anti-gay violence also comes during the same month that three more states passed laws legalizing same-sex marriage and just weeks after NBA veteran Jason Collins revealed that he is gay—and was largely greeted with open arms by the sports world. Last week, soccer player Robbie Rogers, who had said he would leave the game when he came out back in February because he didn't "want to deal with the circus," had a change of heart. When he took the pitch in a Los Angeles Galaxy match on Sunday night, he beat Collins to the punch to become the first openly gay athlete to play in a major U.S. men's professional sport.

This moment of staggering contradictions seems like a good time to take stock of how far we have—and haven't—come in dismantling homophobia. And the hopes we pin on these pioneering athletes may offer some key lessons.

Shortly after Collins came out, Brendon Ayanbadejo, former Ravens linebacker and advocate for marriage equality, explained the importance of his announcement on Meet the Press. Of course, given the sheer number of Americans who tune in to watch professional sports, athletes have an unprecedented platform to offer positive representations of LGBT people to large swaths of the population. But Ayanbadejo got to the heart of why the importance of a figure like Jason Collins extends beyond the celebrity factor: "People think gayness has something to do with femininity when really we just need to erase that stereotype from our minds," he said. "LGBT people come in all different types and shapes and forms."

As many commentators noted, this helps explain why college basketball phenom Brittney Griner's casual "coming out" just weeks before Collins' was greeted with so little fan-fare. The belief that sports—and perhaps team sports particularly—are a masculine endeavor lingers even 40 years after Title IX ushered millions of American women into the game. And since for women, we think gayness "has something to do with" masculinity, we hold the opposing set of assumptions about female athletes: "In sports right now, there are two different stereotypes—that there are no gay male athletes, and every female athlete is a lesbian," Patrick Burke of the gay sports advocacy group You Can Play explained to the New York Times. The news that Griner, who wore a white tux on her 6-foot-8 frame at the WNBA draft, is gay didn't fundamentally challenge our notion that sexuality has something to do with gender—and it just confirmed the stereotypes we had about women who excel in sports. As Garance Franke-Ruta put it, "Female professional athletes are already gender non-conforming. Male ones are still worshiped as exemplars of traditional masculinity."

Within this context, the hope is that a high-profile gay male athlete—or, more realistically, a few of them—could finally smash the stereotype that "gay" equals "unmasculine" once and for all. And, in fact, to some, Collins and Rogers don't have enough macho mojo to do the trick. Writing at The American Prospect, Joel Anderson argued that Collins' underwhelming performance on the court has taken away from the potential power of his announcement. The New York Times's John Branch noted that Major League Soccer is probably only the nation's fifth-most popular league—and, at least in the American sports landscape, soccer players hardly have an uber-masculine image. (In fact, according to the Onion, soccer became the "world's first openly gay sport" in 2010.) The real game-changer, Anderson wrote, would be if a player in the NFL, that bastion of "a certain kind of masculinity if not outright machismo," came out. "Football players are supposed to be our manliest men," he explained. "Their acceptance of a gay man into that world could go a long way toward unpacking some of the most insidious stereotypes about gay people."

There's no doubt those are stereotypes that need unpacking. Sociologists have long noted that homophobia is a fundamental ingredient of masculinity in modern American culture. In his seminal 1994 article "Masculinity as Homophobia," sociologist Michael Kimmel, author of Guyland: The Perilous World Where Boys Become Men, argued that "homophobia is a central organizing principle of our cultural definition of manhood." Since homosexuality is associated with femininity, feminizing and anti-gay comments are the primary mechanism for enforcing the boundaries of masculinity. If a guy steps ever so slightly outside of gender norms, his peers will bring him back into line by calling his heterosexuality into question (which implicitly challenges his gender). The pressure to prove and re-prove hetereosexuality is part of what it means to "be a man"—and it pushes men to embrace both homophobia and hypermasculinity. "Homophobia, the fear of being perceived as gay, as not a real man, keeps men exaggerating all the traditional rules of masculinity, including sexual predation with women," Kimmel wrote. "Homophobia and sexism go hand-in-hand."

Homophobia, then, is not simply social disapproval and discrimination against gay people, but an entire cultural structure that disqualifying all but the "most virulent repudiators of femininity" from "real manhood"—in the process upholding gender inequality and maintaining a hierarchy of men based on sexuality, race, class, ability, and so on.

It's entirely understandable, then, why Collins took pains to highlight his masculinity in his Sports Illustrated article announcing the news. "I go against the gay stereotype, which is why I think a lot of players will be shocked: That guy is gay? But I've always been an aggressive player, even in high school. Am I so physical to prove that being gay doesn't make you soft? Who knows? That's something for a psychologist to unravel."

But where does that leave the guys who do fit the "gay stereotype"?

After all, while it's certainly true that not all gay men are "soft," it's also true that some of them are. The gay guy who would rather be belting out some Barbra Streisand than shooting hoops is not just a stereotype. He exists, too. He's probably been spared the awful loneliness and anxiety of living for 34 years without being open about his sexuality to those closest to him, as Collins did, but he probably had less of a choice in the matter. The first time he had an anti-gay slur hurled at him may have happened before he even came out to himself. In fact, like 11-year-old Carl Joseph Walker-Hoover, he may only be perceived as gay.

Mainstream gay rights advocates seem largely optimistic that the visibility—and acceptance—of gay male athletes like Collins and Rogers will help that guy, too. "By doing what he did, Jason Collins has extended gay kids a lifeline," Fred Sainz, VP for communications and marketing for the Human Rights Campaign, told Time. "The message to that gay kid, even if he's not involved in athletics, is reassuring. Even the jocks are gay. And there's a message to bullies: gay kids are not second-class citizens."

But it's not completely clear that showing that "even the jocks are gay" necessarily makes things better for those guys (gay or straight) who don't so readily conform to traditional masculine norms. Since gayness and femininity are still so linked, it's nearly impossible to determine what homophobia's driving factor is. As Kimmel explained to me, "As long as we think homosexuality is about effeminacy in men—as long as we think we can tell if a guy's gay if he's acting 'feminine'—then we can't tease it out." But if that link is successfully broken—say, by the growing visibility of "macho" gay athletes who challenge the stereotype—then it will be possible. "Then the effeminacy part will be about subscribing to gender norms, not revealing anything about your sexual orientation."

For now, though, it's hard to say: Is being a feminine man bad because it's considered evidence that you're gay? Or is being gay bad because it's seen as feminine? Or are both bad? And if the association between femininity and gayness is severed, what happens next?

The changes over the last two decades may provide some clues. After all, anti-gay attitudes in the United States have declined dramatically since the 1980s and '90s. As recently as ten years ago, the public was evenly divided on whether homosexuality should be accepted or discouraged by society. Today, 59 percent of Americans say it should be accepted, according to a Gallup poll released recently. For the past three years, more Americans support same-sex marriage than oppose it. The most recent Pew Research Center survey, conducted this past March, found 49 percent in favor, compared to 44 percent opposed—and other polls have put the level of support even higher. About two-thirds of the public thinks that gay and lesbian couples can be as good parents as heterosexual couples and that they should have the same legal rights as their straight counterparts.

Among young people, especially, anti-gay views are decidedly the exception. About three-quarters of millennials believe homosexuality should be accepted and 70 percent support same-sex marriage. And, in large part, it is young men who have been driving this trend. Ever since we've been asking about it in public opinion polls, men have been more likely than women to espouse anti-gay views—a fact that buttressed the theory that masculinity is intimately connected with homophobia, says Tristan Bridges, assistant professor of sociology at The College at Brockport, SUNY. But just recently that gender gap has begun to narrow. Among millennials, it's virtually non-existent: 69 percent of young women support same-sex marriage, compared to 65 percent of young men. Though homophobia is by no means eradicated—after all, Bridges points out, straight men especially still seem be far more comfortable with gay identity than actual gay sex—the largely supportive response to Collins and Rogers coming out would seem to reflect a real and rapid change in anti-gay attitudes, which should certainly be celebrated.

What's far less clear is whether this shift is actually changing the way homophobia is used as a weapon for maintaining traditional masculinity. "Surely, it's incontestable that the attitudes that people have about gay people have changed a lot—largely for the better." Kimmel tells me. "But the attitudes that people have toward what constitutes masculinity, and how to enact being a 'real man,' haven't changed very much at all." Consequently, the use of homophobic slurs as a "mechanism of gender policing remains relatively intact"—even if those words have become less likely to be applied to actual gay people.

That's what sociologist C.J. Pascoe found when she spent a year and a half at a California high school doing research for her 2007 book, Dude, You're a Fag: Masculinity and Sexuality in High School. Homophobic slurs were tossed around constantly, but the students insisted they weren't really about sexual orientation. "When I talked to these boys about what they were teasing about, they would go out of their way to say, 'Oh no, we would never actually call a gay boy a fag. That's just mean,'" she told me. Instead, boys labeled their peers "fags" for things like dancing, being too emotional, caring about clothing, being incompetent, or not have success with girls. While actually being gay wasn't exactly accepted, Pascoe discovered that it wasn't nearly as bad as being considered an unmasculine guy. As one student told her, "Well, being gay is just a lifestyle. You can still throw a football around and be gay." Indeed, of the three out gay boys at the school, the two who were traditionally masculine weren't really bullied by their peers much at all. But the third boy, who broke both the norms of sexuality and gender, faced such severe tormenting that he eventually dropped out of school.

Some scholars see cause for optimism, though. For example, Eric Anderson, an American professor of sociology at the University of Winchester, England, argues that declining homophobia is already starting to create "inclusive masculinities." According to Anderson, homophobia only serves a weapon for enforcing gender norms in an environment of "homohysteria"—in which there is both widespread social disapproval of homosexuality and being gay is associated with femininity. As anti-gay attitudes decline and "the stigma of being called gay doesn't sting" anymore, Anderson explained to me, the boundaries of acceptable masculinity expand. "It's not to say that there are no hyper-macho men," he says. "But it is to say that those who are more feminine are perfectly acceptable, because they're not regulated by homophobia anymore." And a similar transformation would be expected to happen if the link between femininity and gayness were broken. If being feminine is no longer considered incontrovertible "evidence" that you're gay, who cares if you bend gender norms? Anderson's research backs up his theory. He's found that the male college athletes and fraternity members he studied in the U.K. and the U.S. are increasingly more accepting of their gay peers—as well as less aggressive and sexist, and more emotionally intimate and physically affectionate with their male friends.

Gender non-conforming LGBT students are more likely to be bullied than their fellow gender-conforming LGBT peers

But others aren't convinced of such a large-scale transformation. Anderson argues that since sports have historically been highly homophobic spaces, other male groups are likely to be moreinclusive than the primarily white, straight, middle-upper class college athletes he has researched. But studies suggest that, paradoxically, those are the guys who may actually have the most freedom to bend the rules of masculinity. Pascoe describes it as "jock insurance." In effect, men who have the most status have the masculine capital to be able to get away with flouting some gender norms. "Gender is at the heart of all this stuff," Pascoe explains. "It can really make up for your deviance in other ways." Bridges agrees: "I think it might be the case that gender flexibility is becoming more ok for young men today than it was in previous generations. But I would say that that is the case for a very select group of men."

Research on LGBT students' experiences in K-12 schools also suggests that anti-gay harassment may be driven as much by gender anxiety as by homophobia. For starters, the growing acceptance of homosexuality has been slow to translate into a change for LGBT youth, according to GLSEN's national school climate survey, which has been conducted every two years since 1999. There has been some improvement: The frequency of anti-gay comments has slowly but steadily decreased over the last decade. The most recent report from 2011 found the percentage of students who reported hearing slurs like "faggot" or "dyke" was about 70 percent, a drop from over 80 percent in 2001. Even the pervasive use of the expression "that's so gay" seems to have slightly declined in recent years (though "no homo" may have risen to take its place). Yet LGBT students' reports of being harassed or assaulted held steady from 2001 to 2009, before finally dropping somewhat in 2011. And there has been no change at all in incidence of negative comments about gender expression.

Furthermore, gender non-conforming LGBT students are more likely to be bullied than their fellow gender-conforming LGBT peers. Of course, some of that may be because bending gender norms is conflated with being gay in a culture that still hasn't let go of the idea that gender and sexuality are linked. But the high rates of harassment and violence faced by transgender people—who most radically reject the gender binary—suggest that gender policing is playing a role over and above the role of homophobia. A whopping 80 percent of transgender students reported that they felt unsafe at school because of their gender expression. And it doesn't get much better for adults: Ninety percent of the trans and gender non-conforming people surveyed by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the National Center for Transgender Equality reported experiencing harassment, mistreatment, or discrimination on the job, or hid their identities to avoid it. A 2012 report on anti-LGBT violence from the National Coalition of Anti-Violence Programs found that trans people were 28 percent more likely to be physically assaulted, and trans women specifically made up 40 percent of hate murder victims.

It's not just boys who are punished for breaking gender norms, of course. Take Griner for example. In an op-ed in the New York Times, she recalled that in seventh grade "the teasing about my height, appearance and sexuality went on nonstop, every day." Notably, it seemed to have more to do with her gender than her sexual orientation: "People called me a dude and said there was no way I could be a woman. Some even wanted me to prove it to them."

Still, at this moment in history, it is easier to be a gender non-conforming girl. "Girls are allowed a lot more leeway to be outside of traditional femininity than boys are allowed to be outside of traditional masculinity," says Barbara Risman, head of the department of sociology at the University of Illinois at Chicago and senior scholar at the Council on Contemporary Families. So while girls also hold each other to rigid standards, and are vicious when someone doesn't conform (one word: slut-shaming), they're far less likely to be homophobic. The GLSEN report, for example, found that over half of students reported hearing remarks about students not acting "masculine enough," but just over a third heard comments about students' "femininity" as often. Up to a certain age, girls can usually get away with being tomboys, while "sissy" boys are discouraged from very early on—and not just by their peers. Studies have shown that parents—especially fathers—are more uncomfortable with their young sons playing with dolls or dresses than with their daughters doing stereotypically "boy" activities. And though stepping too far outside of acceptable gender norms is seen as a problem for everyone, to a degree, women may even be rewarded for distancing themselves from femininity at times.

This is not to say that declining homophobia doesn't have the potential to lead to a serious reimagining of masculinity more broadly. And obviously this isn't the kind of change that happens overnight. After all, the millennial generation that's driving the momentum towards marriage equality is just beginning to create families of their own; I have no doubt that we will raise kids who are more accepting of different sexualities than any before them. And I'm also optimistic that millennials are well-poised to finally retire rigid, outdated versions of masculinity for good. After all, we've come of age in an era of unprecedented gender equality, and as traditional gender differences continue to converge, a masculine ideal that still defensively defines itself primarily against what it is not no longer makes any sense. The crisis of masculinity—predicted by a zillion trend pieces on the so-called "end of men"—offers a real moment of opportunity for my generation. As Thomas Page McBee wrote in the Atlantic last year, "Feminism allowed women to unlock the parts of themselves society kept from them, and now men are doing the same."

But there are dangers to seeing these two trends as inevitable—and inevitably linked. After all, Bridges warns, "the most important and most dangerous forms of inequality are really capable of shifting."Indeed, Pascoe points out that our ideas about what it is to "be a real man" are constantly changing—gender roles are always in flux—and "the important thing is not really what is included or excluded in the definition, but that that definition maintains gender inequality." So while "sexuality might not be as big of a deal anymore," what remains "a big deal is differentiating yourself from femininity." In other words, we may well be moving toward a culture in which being gay is no longer on the list of things that are considered automatically "unmasculine." However, unless we throw out the list altogether, the gender-enforcing function that homophobia currently serves—and the sexist culture it supports—will continue relatively unchanged. In such a world—to take another (extreme) example from sports—perhaps the Mike Rices of the future won't call their players "faggots" and "fairies." But if they still shout "cunt" and "pussy" as they physically abuse their athletes, that will be superficial progress indeed.

In fact, if the association between gayness and femininity is broken without more fundamentally expanding masculinity, it may even make things worse. Kimmel emphasizes that we don't really know yet how this will all play out, but it could end up creating two tiers of gay men: "the really gay guys and the macho gay guys." To some extent, that distinction already exists. Being "straight-acting" is valued—not only in the heteronormative culture at large but within gay communities, too. Gawker's Rich Juzwiak explained last year, "As a gay, you understand that while you'll always find peers who allow you to be exactly as queeny as you are, there is still a social hierarchy that puts a premium on masculinity." Kimmel notes that, if that's the direction we're headed, gender non-conforming gay guys, who used to provide a critique of the dominant masculinity, "are gonna be seen as a real problem. If even gay men can be real men, what's wrong with you? So in a funny way this could be another reassertion of the power of traditional ideas of masculinity."

But, hopefully, instead it will be the first step in an important cultural change. "It's a very good and powerful conceptual shift to decouple sexuality and gender," Risman explains. "That is, to show there are very masculine gay men and effeminate gay men, but there are very masculine straight men and effeminate straight men, too."

The brave decision by Collins and Rogers to come out should not be so narrowly taken as proof that even "real men" can be gay. Instead it should remind us that human beings^mdash;yes, even men—"come in all different types and shapes and forms."

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Maya Dusenbery is a freelance writer and an editor at Feministing.com.

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