A few years ago, a guy running against me in a Labour Party-affiliated society election tried to cancel me. He told people I was homophobic. This post was his evidence:
Whether you agree with my conclusions at age 22 is not important. That guy felt threatened by me (rightly so; I had already beaten him once, and I went on to beat him again), so he was clawing for a way to remove me from the competition.
I am bringing this case up because I recently had to bake a gay wedding cake, and I had feelings about it. One of my gay friends was having a DIY wedding, and I was tasked with the cake. Since it was a wedding cake and I took my job seriously, I needed to top it with professionally made marzipan figures of the happy couple. I went on Etsy and found a baker, and when I messaged her, my brain farted the inflammatory post I wrote 6 years ago followed by a sense of shame and anxiety. What if the Etsy lady rejected my request because I was asking her to create figures of a gay couple? Was I ready to stand by my assertion 6 years ago? On reflection, I stand by it, but the moment was humbling for me because it reminded me that as annoying as cancel culture and identity politics are and as stifling as they can be to intellectual debate and political progress, there was a good reason why they became a thing. There is no substitute for lived experience. It doesn’t have the same function as scientific evidence or rational analysis, but there is no substitute for it and I will never know what it’s like to be gay in this world.
I would have been so enraged if the lady said no. I would tell her, excuse me, lady, do you know how important this cake is? These are the most important marzipan figurines you have ever moulded in your freelance artsy baker career. Unlike yourself, Etsy lady, my friends did not have the luxury of being born in a country that allows both the freedom to be religious and the freedom to love whoever you want.
Imaginary Etsy lady, let me tell you how deserving my friends are of the best, most impressive gay cake. My friend’s biological family doesn’t know they are gay, or a couple, or now married. I say biological because our family is not just who we are related to by blood but also who we choose. My friends were raised to hate themselves, surrounded by people like them who weren’t brave enough to live like them. The easy path would have been for them to pretend to be straight, get married, have kids, be miserable and make everyone involved with them miserable, too. But they didn’t. They spend years plotting their escape path. They invested money they barely had. All to do things we take for granted when we complain about rainbow washing and rainbow flags on corporate Twitter accounts.
While you can’t be arsed to see another pride flag, most of the world still dreams of them. Most people live in countries where homophobia kills, rather than cancel culture annoys.
While other people can expect an army of family to contribute and help with their wedding, my brave friends quietly plotted their escape alone. On the day, they couldn’t even share their joy with the people they grew up with, because the danger of someone messing with the process of one of them securing a visa and moving here with his love is too high to risk.
Etsy lady, thank you for creating these marzipan figurines for our gay cake. I cannot tell you how much it means to me that you did so without arguing. I, too, come from a country where gay marriage was only recently legalised but is still a crime in many people’s eyes.
When I was 14, I asked my mom what she would do if her child came out as gay. She told me she’d kill them and then kill herself.
She doesn’t like it that most of my friends are gay. Whenever I am single for prolonged periods of time, she starts making uneasy sounds about whether there is anything ‘wrong’ with me.
She is right about one thing, though: the vast majority of my friends are gay, like a suspicious percentage, I’d say close to 90%. I am curious about it, too. My therapist believes the gays come to me because I have an ambient maternal aura, and while I am disciplined and espouse tough love, I give them the approval they never got. What do I get in return? Among other things, I get to accept them how I always wanted to be accepted myself. Generously, no strings attached. Fly your freak flag, just make sure you text me you got home.
My friends couldn’t post about their wedding online, which is a pity because it was so beautiful, but I can write about it here. So I do, because I am so proud of them. I am proud of all of you who, without support and validation, decided to live the life you dreamt of nonetheless. Most of my non-British friends coming out are confronted with bouts of hysteria, threats and pleas to go to the doctor for hormone and psychological tests (we will get you the best help!!1! We can cure the gay away!!). When we were younger, the repercussions were scarier and practically more destructive, hence why most waited until they were fully independent before coming out, knowing there was no going back.
From the 90% of my gay friends, I did not expect the one from the most religious, homophobic country to be the one who’d get married first. But he is awesome like that. A dark horse. He doesn’t shout about his battles; he fights them and emerges victorious without bells and whistles- gays being dramatic is just a stereotype, after all.
To be accepted and admired by our community is one of the most basic human needs. I cannot control what the silly generations before us think about gay love, but I am certain the strength of the pride I feel for my friend is more powerful than the shame our elders tried to instil in us.
On this Mother’s Day, for every ugly, bitter homophobe who has ever rained on your parade, I want you to remember there is a gorgeous Greek woman (that’s me) slow clapping and tearing up when she thinks about how much you’ve done with so little.
Etsy lady, thank you for the marzipan figurines. I am glad I didn’t have to sue you. God knows I would have.
Stella, it's me; your older sister. Oh wow. What this piece has done to take me back a couple of decades. I had guy friends in the 90s and early 00s who were gay (and have since come out) but none of us had the language to be able to talk about it then, and really I don't think we even thought about them in terms of sexuality. If anything, my closer now-out friends were classed as pretty much asexual in our group, like it would be a massive shock if they were with ANYONE, let alone another man. They were our sidekicks; companions who walked alongside us as we made all the mistakes with all the rotten apples. And so they were classed as 'enthusiastic,' as 'theatrical,' 'as children's TV presenter -like' instead.
Thanks for reminding me that though things have improved in the UK, it's not the case elsewhere and still a MASSIVE deal to live in your truth.
And yes, you are the hottest mother of the groom I've ever seen 🔥
Aren't we lucky to be alive now and here, when and where disagreeing with dogma (or other people in general) only generates disapproval, not imprisonment or death. I'd like to keep it that way.