Three men walk into a bar and I’m the bartender. With my inherent humanity, I’m bound to judge these three specimens of so-called “masculinity”.
The first male was your typical “dude” (if I may stereotype that word for the purposes of this article). He is not homophobic, but he is still not comfortable with any gay men around him. He wants them to do their “hanky panky business” in private, but not in front of him. He is not talking about gay public display of affection, but just the stereotypical gay notions of people beyond heteronormative ideals of love in his head. He does not want to see any men dressed in flashy colours, talking about Pride parades, organised by privileged city kids, and other matters of those sorts. And yet, he says he is not homophobic. He loves his “bros”, but whenever he hugs them, or says that he loves them, he feels it is his moral obligation to say “no homo”. As if every same-sex physical contact implies gayness, or that he would be something “impure” if people even go to the extent of thinking he is gay. The smoggy air levels outside in Delhi are toxic, and so is this man’s masculinity. I’m pretty sure he would be an avid aficionado of lesbian porn though.
The second man is gay and proud. He has fought judgemental looks and judgemental judgements from everyone around all his life, and I have major respect for him in that sense. My only problem, however, is how he is turning into a victim of reverse stereotyping. This is the 21st century where we are acknowledging, or at least trying to acknowledge every human on the sexuality and gender spectrum. Everyone is equal and deserves equal treatment at a bar and, by extension, in this world. But the purpose of this equality is defeated when people like him start judging each other’s queerness, and stereotype matters themselves. As I serve him a pint, he examines my hands. “Such soft hands. You must be queer,” he says, as I laugh it off. A female friend approaches and he tells her that her bosom looks very appetising. The female friend knows that the second man would not approach her with any sexual intentions, but she is still clearly disturbed by his remarks. Her face says it all. But the second man does not realise this. He thinks that it is fine for him to comment on women like this, or sexually objectify them because to him, they are not objects of his own desire, and to them, he is not a “threat”. The third descendant of Adam is the worst probably, as he is more of a chameleon than a man. To win brownie points in the “woke” world, he continuously posts Instagram stories of protests at Jantar Mantar, the Pride flag, and other stuff of that sort. But who knows how he feels deep inside? For I heard him talking to another male friend who was dressed in a fine pink shirt. “Arey meethe,” (where meethe is slang for a man who seems conventionally non-masculine and is perceived to be gay) he said while hugging him, and I just squinted with cringe. Such people are the epitome of the word “pseudo”.
I was about to continue my character study on the third man but I got interrupted by many more men walking into the bar. You see, today is International Men’s Day, and so the bar has offered a special discount for all male customers. I laugh at the irony, for almost every day is International Men’s Day if you think about it (okay, maybe the second man hasn’t enjoyed privileges all the time). From the times of God in religious texts to figures of “his’story” to present day, it has been a man’s world. What kind of man do you want to be – someone in the joke or someone who learns to improve his ideas of masculinity in the evolving world – is a question you must try answering for yourself.
Shaurya Singh Thapa
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