The Search for my Sexual Identity
Thoughts on gender identity and creativity
I was listening to CBC radio in the car last year while two celebrity men my age were talking like giddy little schoolboys about their hockey and baseball sports card collection. I envied their enthusiasm and pride in their collections and wondered why I never got the bug, even though at one point I had boxes and boxes of them that I had won from playing toss and match gambling. I loved sports and played virtually all types. I had a large number of cards only because I won them. Soon after grade eight I just threw them out. But as the celebrities waxed on about their collections I realized that I too had my own collections during my youth, and as William Wordsworth wrote, “ the child is father to the man”
In my young boyhood the secrets of my future creativity were revealed and it was only on looking back did I realize how early my quirky creativity became apparent. My boyhood interests fathered the creative person I am today. I had two collections, one a stamp collection which I still have, the other a collection of match boxes from restaurants and hotels. My stamp collection was my art gallery. I loved the exquisite designs of Olympic sport stamps from countries all over the world, created by the best artists in each country. I treasured these little lithographs. I selected them in the same way an art collector would. The match box collection also revealed this artistic bent. I selected them, not like others who collected them from as many cities or countries as they could. I collected only the ones which appealed to me because of their artistic design—- another one of my art collections.
From a very early age I also treasured my Kodak Brownie camera and collected photos I took that I thought were fine art pieces. Today I have other collections of fine art. While I could never afford original paintings, I do own a Miro lithograh and Picasso lithograph and many lithos of the modern French artists, some fine Japanese woodcuts, as well as photos by Walker Evans, Josef Karsh and Robert Frank . These are my stamps and matchboxes of old.
But there is more to my creativity than just collecting. I remember in grade seven and eight, tearing out images from magazines of dancers like Fred Astaire and Gene Kelly with images of them leaping through the air with incredible grace and athleticism. I was never able to tell anyone of my interest or do anything about it because at that time a boy who was interested in dance had to be gay and I was terrified of being labelled that way. The only way I was able to come close and maintain my masculine integrity was to take up sports that captured some of the elements of dance. I became a gymnast as well as a springboard diver. In both cases I was able to perform my dance moves in the air and not be labelled gay!
When I retired, at the age of 58 as a school superintendent and returned to university to teach, I fulfilled a childhood dream and enrolled in a modern dance class at the Toronto Dance School. By this time I felt confident enough about my own masculinity that I didn’t care what anyone thought. In my class of 20 students, I was one of only two males and the other 18 were young women more than half my age. They were all hoping to improve their skills to the level that would allow them to gain admission to the school on a fulltime basis. What a sight to see me in tights amidst all this feminine pulchritude.
Our classes were held in a wonderful room with a high ceiling and the walls were covered with mirrors . I remember one crowning moment when the accompanist drummer led us though a routine that culminated in all of us rising up on our toes to one final climactic plie. As we approached the final moment and the drummer reached his final strum on the drum, and as we rose up as one, arms gracefully above our head on our tippy toes, the drum beat ended precisely at the moment when I unfortunately punctuated the final drum beat with a horrific thunderous fart. All twenty sets of eyes could be seen in the mirrors glancing my way and I turned pomegranate red. It certainly affirmed my masculinity. I did not attain admission standards for a fulltime place in the program.
There were other manifestations of my creativity that affected my identity. I began to sew. For years I made my wife’s clothing as well as my two daughters. My crowning achievement was making my daughter’s wedding dress. It was simple, elegant and chic. Again I feared that people would think I was gay. Whenever I publicly told anyone I sewed I always said “yes, I can make a skirt or a dress for my wife on a Sunday afternoon during an NFL football game.” It was in fact true, but it was an attempt to dissipate any thoughts of my sexual preference by adding this very masculine activity. How silly it now seems on reflection.
And it doesn’t stop there. I am avid flower grower and arranger. I made two massive flower arrangements for my daughters wedding that framed the ceremony. And I also love to cook . I studied French cooking while living in Germany and I devour cookbooks and cooking magazines. I am a very inventive and creative chef, if not a consistent one. As well, I love interior decoration. Our house and cottage are carefully decorated with many antiques that I have restored – collections of antique glass, fine artwork or my own photographs, and of course always fresh flower arrangements. My main hobby now is photography and I hold three or fours exhibitions a year of my work.
It is not that I excelled at all these hobbies, in fact I engaged in far more projects that I ever completed and fine detail and finishing are not my strengths. The old adage applies that I was a jack of all arts but master of none, but there is a record here from a very early age of an innate predisposition to artistic endeavours.
When you combine all these interests – the dancing, the fashion design and sewing, the interior decorating, the photography, flower arranging and the creative cooking, you emerge with a distinct stereotype of a gay male. When I was in the navy during my university years, I was the one who cut every mid-shipman’s hair! I have always had this fear growing up of being accused as gay and as Seinfeld said, “not that there is anything wrong with that”, it is just that I didn’t want that label applied to me . It is interesting and regrettable the things I did to ensure no one thought I was gay, including, regrettably, at times displaying homophobia. I am truly ashamed of those occasions, even though they were verbal displays. It is only now that I am comfortable enough in my own skin that I can talk about it. I know I am a “raging heterosexual” and I am proud of the more feminine aspects of my interests and talents.