Homophobic attacks, homophobia in schools. Responsibilities and differences.

Two weeks ago on Friday I joined thousands of gay men and women and attended the vigil against homophobic violence in Trafalgar Square. It was an opportunity to remember Ian Baynham who had been brutally murdered just yards away. Equally importantly, it was a moment to reflect upon a gay community in crisis and to make a highly visible and defiant stand against all forms of hate.

This Friday I was having a drink just yards from the square at Halfway to Heaven, when I myself became the victim of homophobia. I couldn’t quite believe what was happening when a group of four or five young, black males walked past and started shouting abuse at me.

Their leering stances were challenging me to confront them. Somehow I resisted. Yet in doing so I became consumed with anger. I wasn’t so much furious about what had happened to me (trust me, I have taken my share of knocks over the years), but was enraged that this was happening in the same place that Ian Baynham had been killed, the same place that our community had made a united stand just a week previously. This shameless insult to Ian’s memory wounded me to the depths of my soul.

Aided by a few stiff Jack Daniels my mind began to somersault. Did these youths know what had happened in this spot back in September to Ian Baynham? Were they aware of the vigil the previous week? May be they even knew the perpetrators of the heinous crime? Had they come back with the intention of taunting us, pouring scorn on Ian Baynham’s memory and our brave attempts to confront and admonish homophobic cowardice? Perhaps my thoughts were irrational, then again perhaps not.

This event, however, made one thing certain in my mind:- the root of the homophobic violence we have been seeing lies at school level. Education is the key to changing attitudes, promoting tolerance and stamping out ignorance that maims, kills and distorts individuals and a civilised society.

Since the repeal of Section 28 there is no excuse for any teacher to ignore homophobia within the confines of a school. Yet homophobic bullying remains widespread. Inaccurate stereotypes proliferate and the use of the word ‘gay’ as a pejorative term remains largely unchallenged.

Homophobia in schools is as much the last taboo as it is in football. It is rife, accepted and ‘goes with the territory.’ It feeds off perceptions of normal heterosexual male behaviour, outmoded concepts of masculinity and twisted presumptions.

The attitudes themselves are passed down to pupils from teachers and parents who often subscribe on varying levels, perhaps unconsciously, to the same precepts of heteronormativity. The list is endless: Open displays of affection and sensitivity are not considered macho, pink is a girl’s colour, boys have to be good at sport.

In many ways it is like going to a football match – you have to join in the chanting, the boozing and the butch swaggering in order to fit in. If you don’t you risk being singled out and victimised yourself. In this way straight male behaviour is as much inflected by mask wearing as gay behaviour is. If your heterosexual male lets his mask slip for just a second he is accused of being unmanly, feminine, or heaven forbid ‘a poof.’

It is too easy to get swept along by the group mentality. Under the right conditions, the need to belong and to fit in can make a person do untypical things. Is it not inconceivable to imagine even the most right on metrosexual male joining in with a few ‘harmless’ gay taunts at a football match because he is paranoid about fitting the mould? He might know it is the wrong thing to do. He may even be a little frightened about what it says about him, but he is more than likely more terrified of what the raucous group around him will think if he turns around and says ‘ no that is wrong.’

It is not dissimilar to a classroom situation. Faced with a pack of braying brats it is going to take courage to rebuke them for homophobia. ‘Are you gay then sir?’ is the dreaded response. ‘Do I really need the hassle of dealing with this?’ is likely to be the internal dialogue. ‘If I pull the kid up on it isn’t it going to cast doubt on my masculinity?’

From year dot boys are taught to behave in a certain way. You only have to look at the way a father plays with a toddler. It’s a time honoured performance inflected by notions of bravery, strength and undemonstrative behaviour. Kids carry this into the classroom, where the language of homophobia inevitably creeps in.

It is at this stage that teachers are in a unique position to alter attitudes. If we substitute one of the members of that gang that shouted at me on Friday night for a teacher we can perhaps see how powerful an educator’s response can be. Is there really that much difference between the teacher who ignores the casual homophobic slur at school and the gang member who knows he or she shouldn’t join in with the anti-gay taunts but does so anyway?

What the homophobic murder of Ian Baynham tells us about gay London

Ian Baynham murdered in homophobic attack

The death last night of a man from a homophobic attack has sent shockwaves through London’s gay community today.

Ian Baynham, 62, was set upon by feral two teenage girls after a night out on 28 September. Repeatedly kicked, he spent the subsequent weeks in the Royal London Hospital until his life support machine was turned off last night.

The heinous nature of this crime will revolt any right thinking citizen. It’s the top story on today’s Evening Standard website and is sprawled across all the papers. The online editorials are full of outraged comments and the so called ‘gay community’ are rightly reacting with incensed horror.

The question, however, is why has it taken so long to provoke this reaction? Why, when the attack occurred back in September, did it not receive the coverage it deserved? I am not referring just to the mainstream press, but to our gay press.

I am talking, of course, about the gay press that is available to the largest audience – the scene magazines anyone can pick up in the bars and clubs. The magazines that are more concerned with peddling the intimidating body fascism, untapped hedonism and commercialism that reduces the gay experience to the relentless, topless posing of lost, drug addled nights.

I am referring to the pages dominated by the club promoters who hold themselves up as champions of the ‘gay community’, the same people who wheel GHB casualties out of the back door to avoid undesired publicity, their one concern being the fall of their own egotistical slice of Babylon.

The fact is that when attacks like this happen these kind of magazines are loath to surrender more than a few centimetres of their sex fuelled advertising space to one of the most pertinent and serious threats to gay Londoners’ safety and liberty in decades.

It was the responsibility of gay London to react to the assault on Ian Baynham when it happened back in September. Moreover, it was the responsibility of the free gay press to ensure it had the coverage that it so warranted. Their duty was to bring this lethal trend of homophobia to the forefront of our minds and to direct and galvanise our reactions to it.

That, however, is the function of a community press and there is little left of the gay community in London. It has been reduced to a twisted march of lust and greed. The marchers, of course, look beautiful in the latest D&G and Gucci, but have now spent so long oiling their perfectly buffed bodies and squeezing into their Aussie Bums that they have forgotten to carry their placards.

Nor are they walking together anymore. After all it’s pretty tough to co-ordinate body movements when you’re off your head on Ketamine. Instead they bump into each other once in a while, rarely speaking and often barely looking at each other. Why squander time doing that when you can just grope at what’s bulging through the trunks?

Today’s gay scene is quick, easy and devoid of consequences. There’s no need to think about feelings or care. It’s considered a waste of energy and, more to the point, it doesn’t sell. It is not fashionable to make feelings visible.

Why then has the care gone? In an age where gays enjoy unprecedented visibility and rights and where HIV can be treated with pills, the political fire is dying out. Complacency is becoming the watchword of our age. Why face up to the unpalatable realities which still exist when it is so much easier, and more fun to bask with reckless abandon in the triumphs that an earlier generation won for us?

Ian Baynham’s death reminds us that if we do not reignite this fire and fight to regain the courageous kinship of the past we risk extinction once more.

There are people in gay London who recognise this and are stirring us into action once more. Just two weeks ago Half Way To Heaven, the pub in the street near where Ian Baynham was attacked, held a benefit for the Albert Kennedy Trust. It was in honour of the birthday of David Morley who was brutally murdered in a similar homophobic attack in 2004.

The camaraderie in the air was awe inspiring and the convergence of defiant spirit truly heartrending. For just a few hours in that crammed pub a sense of thoughtfulness, humanity and belonging had returned to gay London.

As the proud punters sauntered up to the bar, their eyes rested on a notice about another recent homophobic attack in the same area. It emboldened them more still. The sad thing was that for many it was the first time they had been alerted to the senseless events that would leave the unnamed victim dead just weeks later.

The Sweetest Sounds – Sarah Hay in cabaret and Pizza on the Park

 

It takes a certain amount of focus to pull off a dinner cabaret. There’s the constant chinking of glasses, clinking of cutlery, confused waiters serving the wrong orders, not to mention the inconsiderate chatter of incoherent diners. Only the most seasoned of artistes cope.

West end stalwart Sarah Hay is one of these. Dominating the intimate room at Pizza on the Park with understated elegance and unflappable charm, she transfixes the audience with her lilting soprano as she pays tribute to ‘the sweetest sounds’ of Rodgers and Hammerstein.

Structuring a one woman show is a daunting task. Too many performers fall into the trap of merciless biography, while others merely rehash a tried and tested back catalogue. Hay circumspectly opts for the middle ground – subtly weaving her own experiences around the work of two musical theatre greats. The effect is seamless and touching.

Opening with a medley from The King and I (one of Hay’s first roles was understudying the role of Ann Leonowens), she takes us on an imaginative musical journey, forging unexpected links between songs and thereby charting Rodgers and Hammerstein’s enduring legacy.

Lesser performers may have wallowed in nostalgia, but Hay introduces numbers by established modern composers – a rendition of Dillie Keane’s Much More Married is delivered with near perfect comic timing, blistering cynicism and exemplary vocal control.

The real delight of this show, however, is derived from Hay’s daring use of new material. Life Story, a song about creativity, regrets and acceptance from the David Shire and Richard Maltby show Closer Than Ever, is pure poetry. Hay’s poignant, contemplative performance reminds us of what West End musical theatre could be if the great British public would only risk straying from the banal pop catalogue format of the noughties. Then, perhaps, we truly would have the kind of show that Rodgers and Hammerstein could be proud of.

Sarah Hay will be appearing again in ‘The Sweetest Sounds’ at Pizza on the Park, 11-13 Knightsbridge, London, SW1X 7LY on Sunday 11th October at 7pm. Tickets can be booked on 08456 027 017. http://www.sarah-hay.co.uk/cabaret_solo.php

Gay Icons exhibtion at The National Portrait Gallery

I was fortunate enough this week to attend the opening of the new Gay Icons exhibition at the National Portrait Gallery.

There are photos of 60 icons on display, chosen by 6 well known U.K. figures. The chair of the selecting committee was the fabulous Sandy Toksvig, who true to form, made a delectably witty speech at the opening.

Alluding to the incontestable fact that the gay community have come far in the fight for rights, Toksvig also, rightly, stated there was far to go. She reminded her captivated audience that only that week The Metro had run a front page story on how certain Nigerian ‘christians’ were forcibly attempting to cure homosexuals of their ‘disease.’

It is truly appalling to think that this still goes on today, but of no great surprise. It is ultimate proof that if mainstream society has become more tolerant, there are still small, but powerful sectors that not only condemn us, but are full of zealous vitriol. This is lethal, especially when coupled with the concept of religion.

What we have to remember is that the kind of religion that advocates such attitudes to gay people stems from British culture. It was after all, the so called civilising colonisation of African countries (With christianity as their impetus) that introduced relgion to this continent. The beliefs that many find so repellent now are merely a reflection of the pervasive, historical attitudes of the colonising power – namely Britain ! We would do well to remember that !

The fascinating aspect of this exhibition is that, in many ways, it offers a different set of gay idols. No Judy Garland, no Davis or Crawford, no Elizabeth Taylor and no Madge. It presents gay figures as simply people who have excelled in their chosen field. They are not unusual, freaky, recklessly over the top or shamelessly self-destructive.

By portraying gay lives in this way, I think we are making a subtle, yet solid political statement. We are quietly revealing our achievements and asking to be noticed as individuals, not as some crazed, threatening community of outlandish sex fiends!

My full view is on Culture24 at http://www.culture24.org.uk/art/art70088

June 2009 – L.G.B.T. Pride Month

Every reason to be proud...

40 years ago this month, two monumental events occurred in LGBT history:-the death of Judy Garland and the Stonewall riots. The first of these may seem to be quite inconsequential and relevant only to that, now arguably, old fashioned group of gay men, referred to disparagingly as diva loving drama queens. Over the years, however, it has been argued that the two events are intricately linked and that the former acted as the catalyst for gay liberation.

The exact impact of Garland’s death on the riots that took place six days later at the boozer in Christopher Street is difficult to calculate. In his seminal study of queer New York ‘The Gay Metropolis 1940 – 1996’, Charles Kaiser is just one writer who contemplates the affect that the gay heroine’s death had. Different theories abound, but many have claimed that the out pouring of grief that heralded Garland’s demise brought tensions within the LGBT community to fever pitch. One night there was simply one police raid too many and the gays revolted in catastrophic fashion – led by those unofficial spokesmen/women of our community, the fiercely fabulous drag queens.

Death of a public figure does strange things to people – look at the scenes surrounding the Queen of Heart’s death 1n 1997, or dare I say it, even those over the fall of Queen of Chavs, Jade Goody. People find new ways to dream in the most unlikely figures. The ramifications of grief are inexplicable and unprecedented. Throw decades of persecution, frustration and discrimination in to the mix and the result can be explosive.

How will the great British public react to the demise of the precociously talented walking corpse that is Amy Winehouse? More specifically, how will the gay community receive the news? There are similarities between Garland and Winehouse. They are, after all, from the same camp – the self-destructive, car crashes that epitomise a certain aspect of diva worship.

If we still love the burnt out, vodka swigging female stars, though, I think we do so in an altogether different way. It’s no longer so much a form of fawning, undiluted deification, but rather a mocking vilification. We like to see them falter and fall, relishing the pictures in Heat magazine of old Wino stumbling around in the gutter fag dangling from her mouth like some old before her time prossie.

Perhaps us gays have toughened up. Perhaps it takes more than some fragile tottering goddess to engage our sympathies. Or maybe we simply have more respect for ourselves these days. We no longer consider ourselves to be the tragic, lost victims from Garland’s era and so it seems only logical that part of our psyches rejects any one emblematic of a dark time we would rather forget. ‘Pull yourself together gal’ you can hear the queens exclaiming.

The issue, however, is that we must not forget. To erase our heritage, as unpalatable as it may sometimes be, is to dismiss all those people who lived through the dark times. It means shrugging off, closing your eyes to all the blackmail ; the blatant, callous prejudice ; the police entrapment ; the lonely, shattering sadness of all of those suicides. It means the creation of a silence and the perpetuation of years of that become tantamount to a denial. And a denial is an insult.

With these thoughts in mind, I was pleased to see that Barrack Obama has declared June LGBT Pride month on the White House’s website. The president lays out his plans for creating a society free from all discrimination, recognising the broad and varied achievements of sexual dissidents in all spheres. Amen.

He makes reference to re-assessing the U.S. army’s ‘Don’t Ask Don’t Tell Policy,’ but pointedly,  the ongoing controversies surrounding the repeal of gay marriage in certain states is brushed over with the words ’supporting civil unions.’  It’s surely something which the Gay rights groups will inevitably pick up and analyse over the coming weeks. It suggests one of those disconcerting silences, a refusal to address a vital issue.

The LGBT community desperately need forums to discuss anything and everything that risks negativity impacting on the freedom that has been won since gay liberation. The moment of suppression can also be the moment of slippage back to the past. Could we ever conceive that U.S. states could repeal the gay marriage laws? It teaches us to expect the unexpected. No one is home and dry.

Next month in London, Paul Burston’s The House of Homosexual Culture is holding a debate on the legacy of the Stonewall Riots. Along with the U.K’s own gay history month (held every February), this type of event is of unparalleled importance to us. In our history lie the inexhaustible possibilities for our future realisation.

Young gay men and women today need to wake up and pay attention to our heritage. Loving Kylie and the saucy dyke that is Beth Ditto is all very well and good, but let’s try to examine why we like these figures, what it is about them that transfixes us. May be then we will be reminded of good old Judy’s death and what it did or didn’t directly lead to that same month 40 years ago. It’s all about provoking questions and fervent self evaluation. I am going to be covering the debate for the LGBT history section of the website Culture24 (www.culture24.org.uk) and can’t wait to see what transpires!

Big Brother 10

The horror has arrived...again...

The inevitable has arrived. A new series of Big Brother. Big Brother 10 to be precise. Yes, this ‘cultural phenomenon’ is actually celebrating its tenth year. Ten years of fame hungry media whores, ten years of shameless exhibitionism and, most terrifying of all, ten years of relentless dumbing down.

This year there are three ‘sexual dissidents’ in the glass cage. First up is Frederick George Fisher, a former young Conservative who provoked controversy by attempting to start up a male escort service. Then we have Charlie Drummond, winner of that illustrious title Mr Gay UK 2007 (albeit only for Newcastle.) Lastly we have our token Brazilian (well they are every where after all), Rodrigo Lopes, a student who now thinks he might be gay.

The threesome’s inclusion in the multi million pound Big Brother franchise is yet another example of gays’ assimilation in to the mainstream. The jury is still out on whether this is a good or bad thing. Increased visibility in the media can be a double edged sword. It can either foster a positive attitude to homosexuality or reinforce the stereotypes that the gay community have fought to free themselves of ; the long entrenched pre-conceptions that form the basis of homophobia.

The net result, of course, is yet to be seen and will depend upon how these endlessly fascinating individuals interact with one another. If massive corporations are intent on colonising us as a market, however, we can be sure that at the forefront of their minds is revenue and not politics. Viewing figures are all that matters and not, necessarily, the welfare of the individuals they are exploiting or the wider community they represent.

Endemol have selected their animals in the zoo carefully. They no doubt have expectations. A bitchy camp fest, shenanigans under the table with a bottle, may be even a happy ever after civil partnership? They want only what sells. Ultimately, however, they have no control over what happens. Can we really expect them to take a responsible attitude to protecting not only these particular housemates but the image of the gay community? The catastrophic handling of the Shetty-Goody racism debacle suggests otherwise.

Even before the embarrassing antics  commence, the choice of housemates, alone,  teeters dangerously on the edge of gay stereotypes: a guy whose aim was to open an escort agency, another whose sole ambition was to be cover boy for the gay glossies. Gay life is not all about the aesthetics of sex. Our culture and history is rich and diverse. The fear is that as we are embraced by the mainstream media we will become consumed and our identity will swiftly lose its definition.

The gay media also has a responsibility. Scene magazines like QX peddling their proliferation of naked torso shots and escort ads help reinforce the belief that there is little more to gay culture than one sweaty, drug fuelled shagathon. These housemates could have been plucked from the parade of vacantly grinning hotties we see in the gay press week in week out. If we are going to promote this two dimensional image from within our own community it’s not surprising that this is going to be reflected by the mainstream.

One of the few exceptions to this trend among gay publications today is the online magazine Polari. Their mission statement includes the following:-

The experience of gay sexuality in the West is multi-faceted, and complex – it is about navigating a culture from the margins; it is about what is revealed to others, and what is, at the same time, hidden; and thus it has always had its own language in order to navigate the mainstream and an alternative to that mainstream. In so doing it developed its own culture.’

By its very definition there can be nothing hidden in Big Brother. The Producers have taken merely one facet of gay life and stuck it on the screen. While the program does not pretend to be, exclusively, a forum for examining homosexual identity in the twenty-first century, the reality of reality TV is that it is fast becoming one of the most influential platforms we have. Moreover, with the disintegration of the thriving underground gay media that we once had, it is also becoming one of the few we have left.

Of more interest to me than the forthcoming shenanigans in the house will be the gay community’s reaction to it. Will it reignite our political zeal? Will we see that we have, possibly, become too much a part of the mainstream and that our own publications do not provide an effective antidote to the false representations we see unfold on the screen? Only time will tell. After all, it’s only day 4. Oh God….I think I’m actually going to have to watch some of this…

Danny La Rue dead at 81

Legendary entertainer Danny La Rue died this week at his home in Kent aged 81 after a short battle with prostate cancer.

Born Daniel Patrick Carroll in Cork in The Irish Republic, La Rue made his first stage appearance at the end of the second world war in Singapore and rose to the heights as a west end cabaret star and the first female impersonator to appear at the Royal Variety Performance. He was made an OBE in 2002.

Although Danny La Rue disliked the title ‘drag queen’, preferring the term ‘comic in a frock’, for many he epitomised the art of drag and was celebrated for his consummate stage performances as Marlene Dietrich and Elizabeth Taylor (to name but a few.)

He was also one of the few drag artistes to successfully cross over in to the mainstream, appearing in six smash hit West End shows, including an infamous stint as Dolly Levi in the musical Hello Dolly in 1982.

the legendary Danny La Rue as the equally legendary Marlene Dietrich

Yesterday, his close friend Barbara Windsor, who he had known since he was 18, led the numerous stars paying tribute to the man Noel Coward once described as ‘the most professional, the most witty…and the most charming in the business.’ Praise indeed !

I am going to be following this article up with a focus on the role of drag in twenty-first century London in a few weeks, so watch this space !

Review of ‘The Gay Divorcee’ by Paul Burston

It is not easy to get a gay novel published. Possibly our most celebrated gay writer, Edmund White, summed up the situation back in 2007: ‘The market is very small. Only 3% of all people are gay and if you take a diminishing dumbed-down reading public to begin with, and say you are only aiming for 3% of that market, that’s awfully small. So gay novels if they are successful sell 5,000 copies.’

Not an easy job then. The trick, perhaps, lies in judicious marketing. As a leading gay journalist in London (founder of ‘Attitude’ magazine and currently Editor of the gay pages in ‘Time Out’), Paul Burston is a master of knowing what this 3% want. His latest novel, ‘The Gay Divorcee’, is a deceptively light hearted critique of the London gay scene, laced with blisteringly witty repartee and timely social comment. It is probably what many gay readers want and also what they need.

‘The Gay Divorcee’ narrates the story of Soho bar owner Phil Davies who is engaged to be ‘married’ to breathtaking rancid queen ‘Fag Ash’ Ashley. The problem is that Phil is still married to Hazel and is blissfully unaware that he has a nineteen year old son from that union. More crucially, Ashley knows nothing about the first wife. The story charts the shenanigans in the tumultuous six months leading up to their impending nuptials and is set against the bitchy, incestuous, often terrifyingly hedonistic gay ghetto.

Burston neither aspires to nor pretends to write gay literary fiction, (he has said that he often finds White’s prose pompous), and if any comparisons are to be drawn with current gay luminaries it would be with Armistead Maupin. He shares the same gift for vivid characterization through snappy dialogue enthused with a heartwarming appreciation of the intricacies of humanity. Central character Phil is every bit as vulnerable, complex and lovable as Maupin’s Michael and Burston’s achievement is to reflect the hopes, dreams and fears of a new gay generation in his struggles.

Maupin chronicled the social and sexual fluxes of San Francisco during the heady days of gay liberation. The darkness of the closet was in the past and AIDS had yet to decimate an entire community. His work was enthused with a real joie de vivre as the characters exalted in different ways to explore their freedom and build novel ways of relating and forging a new queer aesthetic. The backdrop for Burston’s work is entirely different; his characters are often jaded and there is a real sense that the London gay scene has reached the end of the line.

This is unsurprising since Burston has often been critical of the scene. Perhaps his stance is best summed up in an interview with Homovision in which he says that there is more to gay culture than spending the night in ‘a railway arch in Vauxhall.’ The infamous railway arch in question comes in for quite a lot of flack in this novel, along with the GHB overdoses and general decay of beauty and lost opportunities that it seems to represent. There is a sense of nostalgia, rather reminiscent of the world Maupin depicts, as the fragile character Martin remembers a time when men had sex in beds instead of saunas and actually spoke to one another as opposed to gaping at anonymous body parts on Gaydar.

These are issues that mean a lot to Burston – he confronted them unblinkingly in an article in ‘Time Out’ in 2007 entitled ‘London’s gay scene in crisis.’ His achievement in this novel is to package questions that may be unpalatable to many in what appears to be a light, comic read ; the criticism comes in the odd throw away remark and the motif of an anonymous, hysterical ‘Blog’ lampooning the self destructive ‘gay glitterati.’

The book is structured in short, easy to digest chapters and its action is fast paced. The aim is to appeal to the frenetic lives of gay Londoners who can grab a few pages on the tube between work and the next bar or spa where they can then grab the next guy in the sexual McDonalds that is the gay scene. What they may not expect in between is to be subtly questioned about the motives and implications of their behaviour.

We need to find new ways of talking about what is going on in the gay community, only then can problems be addressed and solutions found. Burston is our chief advocate here – he pioneered gay literary saloon Polari and in February his House of Homosexual Culture debated bare back porn at The South Bank Centre. While there is an undeniable sense that London’s scene is struggling in this novel, there is also the suggestion that it can extricate itself from impending catastrophe.

The key to this is communication as this is the only way that the characters fathom out some sort of survival for themselves. Interestingly, the gay action is counterpointed by the staunchly heterosexual conservatism of Wales and the mystery shrouding the Bridgend teenage suicides which no one is discussing. Whether Burston becomes the new Armistead Maupin is yet to be seen. He has, however, nominated himself to be one of the scene’s spokesmen for the noughties. It’s a vital role that may prevent us surrendering to the danger of apathy.

Bisexual Chic Baloney

Brazen hussey Megan Fox plying her trade

This week saw yet another convert to Bisexual Chic as Actress Megan Fox came out as Bisexual. Despite the fact that she is currently dating Beverley Hills 90210 actor Brian Austin, the star categorically stated that ‘there is no question in my mind about being bisexual.’ Apparently, she would happily sleep with another woman if she wasn’t dating Austin.

Thanks for the nod to the gay cause, but frankly, my dear, we don’t give a damn…

Fox is just the latest in a long line of celebrities to jump on the bisexual bandwagon and in doing so is achieving nothing either new or terribly exciting. We saw the beginning of the trend as far back as the 1970s with the whole glam rock era and David Bowie. It became cool to be seen out with a member of the same sex and everyone from Joan Baez to Patti Smith threw in their tuppence.

Things went quiet again in the 1980s with the wide spread panic over the AIDS crisis, but re-emerged with a vengeance in the 1990s with that mother of all shock tactics, Madonna. Who can forget her infamous Justify My Love video in which she snogged former Roxy Music model Amanda Cazalet? This was followed by her notorious are-they-or-aren’t- they relationship with openly bisexual comedienne Sandra Bernhard and more recently her shameless coupling with Britney Spears at the 2003 MTV Music Awards.

Perhaps Madge can be blamed for Lindsay  ’Li-Lo’ Lohan’s recent shenanigans with Samantha Ronson then? She would certainly love to take all of the credit I’m sure ! Either way, what we are seeing now is nothing more than desperate media hungry publicity whores clambering for the latest slice of the pie. And let’s face it, Madge wasn’t exactly even trail blazing way back in the 1990s, but merely taking up the mantle of Dietrich and the drag balls of the 1920s. Somehow it didn’t have the same impact. Dietrich herself summed up the differences between the pair when asked what she thought of Ms. Ciconne’s plans to star in a biopic of her life: ‘I played vulgar. Madonna is vulgar.’

The only possible exception to the current trend is Kelly McGillis. The Top Gun star has long since retired from the screen and has no come-back film to brazenly plug. There was something quite genuine and touching about her coming out at the grand old age of 51. She has done it quietly and with dignity. These young upstarts could do worse than to speak to her about what’s it’s really like to feel confined to the closet for 20 plus years. Perhaps they would then think twice before flashing their allegedly newly discovered sexual proclivities in our eyes with as much grace and fore-thought as they do their surgically enhanced breasts.

I am waiting for a male Hollywood start to declare his bi-sexuality, or even, heaven forbid his gayness. I’m not going to hold my breath though. For a woman to declare that she is bisexual is a great career move, immediately grabbing the attention of all the straight men by pandering to their tawdry girl-on-girl action fantasies. For a man it would signal the death knell to his career. With the exception of the circumspect Rupert Everett I can think of no gay ‘totty’ who has come out and still managed to forge a successful screen career.

It is, of course, no more than a coincidence that this latest parade of female bisexuals is happening alongside the debate on the US Army’s Don’t Ask Don’t Tell policy (D.A.D.T.) We only need to look at the Department of Defence’s 1981 statement on gays in the military to see that full on male homosexuality is viewed as a threat to the powers that be:

‘the presence of such members adversely affects the ability of the armed forces to maintain discipline, good order, and morale; to foster mutual trust and confidence among service members.’

The statement itself is deliberately vague and designed to provoke alarm. The under current though is that male homosexuality is dangerous. It’s a sentiment that has been around since the conviction and demonisation of Oscar Wilde. Female sexual dissidence has never provoked such an extreme reaction.

The likes of Fox and her cronies trivialize what it is to be gay, bisexual or lesbian and in the long run their proclamations are going to count for nothing in the fight for gay rights. It is perhaps, interesting though to ponder what affect a gay male celebrity’s coming out might have, both in the short and long term, on the current D.A.D.T. controversy…

‘Greta Garbo, Marilyn Monroe…Norma Desmond.’

At a performance of the musical ‘Sunset Boulevard’ last summer at The Watermill Theatre, my friend Rosetta, gesturing towards faded film star Norma Desmond, nudged me and whispered ‘you know, Madonna could be Norma .’ I acknowledged the idea, but must admit at the time had some doubts about the credibility of this possible casting coup.

Yes, there are similarities. They are the same age, obsessed with the poisoned chalice of eternal youth and both possess a monstrous ego. Norma though is obsolete, trapped in a time warp, the antithesis of that Mistress of Reinvention Ms. Ciccone. Madge is about as likely to hide away in a crumbling Italinate mansion as she is to run off and join the local convent.

Both women are also, of course, gay icons, but for very different reasons. Norma’s of the same ilk as Judy Garland and Joan Crawford, a tragic figure from a bygone era. How many young gay men have even heard of her? Her self-destructive bitterness is a remnant of an unhealthy closeted past. Surely she is as old hat as her 1920s leopard print turbans?

Society demands that our modern gay icons be upbeat, positive, brimming with hope and eternal light. Nothing beats them – look at Kylie and her triumphant battle with cancer. The crowd at GAY want to be transfixed by the diva’s fierceness, her raw, uncompromising sexuality, her awe-inspiring ability to grapple with the latest fad and twist her music and style to fit the grooviest remix. There’s no room or sympathy for Norma’s slit-wrists here. That’s why, I assured Rosetta, Madonna could never be Norma Desmond.

But this, of course, was last summer – before Madge turned 50, before she divorced Guy Ritchie and before she started cavorting with a 22 year old Brazilian model called Jesus Luz. Things have changed. People have started calling her desperate, sad, pathetic, even, heaven forbid…old. Have the tables turned? Are we now, to quote a line from ‘Sunset’ finally seeing ‘the taker be took?’

It’s foolhardy to under estimate Madonna. There is a reason for everything she does. Her photo shoot with her hot Latin deliberately evokes echoes of Gloria Swanson and William Holden in Billy Wilder’s classic film. Remember, this is the woman who wrote that homage to Hollywood ‘Vogue’. She neglected to name check Norma Desmond alongside Garbo and Monroe back then, but she is sure as hell doing it now. Only time will tell where this will lead. Perhaps she will become the Norma Desmond for the new gay generation, as successful and trendy as Norma was thwarted and passé. Let’s just keep an eye on her swimming pool.