5/10/2023 0 Comments Kabaret barmanAnd from my own experience I know they’re right – there’s often aloofness, judgement, prejudice, cynicism and a whole host of other unkindnesses. But why was it called the Kindness Kabaret? Because Pat and David both feel that there isn’t enough kindness on the London gay scene. There was burlesque from the epic Rubyyy Jones, some ace tunes from internationally ignored superstar Vanity Von Glow, jokes galore from Shon Faye, words of wisdom from writer Matthew Todd and witty banter from hosts Pat Cash and David Robson. Sure, I’ll be kind, but if you find yourself reading this post and you’re one of those friendly-but-kinda-ignorant straight people then you probably weren’t at the Kindness Kabaret last night in Soho. But wait a sec, aren’t I being a little too mean in a post about kindness? Every time you laugh at those sorts of punch lines, every time you reduce your LGBT friend to a series of tropes and every time you call something ‘gay’, you are overtly/tacitly promoting the culture of queerphobia that still runs so strong in 21st century society. In fact, I don’t just think you know this stereotype, I think you help promote it. Then they down a double gin and tonic before offering a witty critique of each person in the room and why they’re all so damn ugly. You know that gay stereotype, the ‘bitchy queen’ one, when the queer in question gives you a lot of sass and destroys your sense of fashion (or lack thereof) in two biting sentences. Now I’ve done it, I don’t fear it so much, and maybe I’ll do it again. In essence, I got on that podium for me – to turn all these ideas about beauty into an act, the act of stripping to my pants and reading a poem. And yes, challenging and changing beauty norms is not easy and there is so much work to do but maybe it starts with shamelessly (and safely) showing ourselves to the world. Love goes both ways, as does shame, and I’d far rather be able to look myself in the mirror and like the person staring back at me while also letting myself have off days, be unattractive and just to be human. Simultaneously, we must also give others permission to be beautiful no matter how ‘far’ they are from the norm of beauty we’ve been brought up on. We are all beautiful and we must give ourselves permission to be. I am done with the beauty pyramid that ranks us in leagues and fills us all with shame and self-loathing – whether that shame takes us to the gym everyday to work on our abs or that shame means we don’t go clubbing anymore because of the way people have treated for how we look. And to that iteration of beauty, I call bullshit. If there were people in the audience thinking that I have an awful body or that I’m ugly, then that’s their problem because I imagine they still believe in a conception of beauty that prioritises toned, white, male bodies over all other forms of body. But when I was up there reading my poem I stopped caring and just enjoyed my five minutes. I assume the world has only judgemental eyes and is critiquing every hair and mark on my body. For too long I’ve cared about what others think of my body and I’ve projected my insecurities at people I think are hotter than me. So bearing my hairy shoulders and my lack of a 6-pack, felt like a political act in itself. If you have any hang ups about your body it’s not the easiest of places to be. Firstly, for those of you who don’t know Ku Bar, whilst it’s a fab gay bar, it’s also the case that each topless barman is basically a model and all the TV screens project images of hunky men with 8-packs. So last week I thought I would expose myself, which is why I stripped to my pants and read a poem. The thing is though, I’ve kinda been hiding behind my stories, only revealing myself through the odd metaphor and simile. I’ve usually edited and practised the story a lot in advance and love it when I get applauded at the end. I’ve tended to read short stories, something poignant about my experience of queerness and the queer community in 2017. There’s usually a theme and everyone gets five minutes to do whatever they like – read a poem, sing a song, speak from the heart, plug a show, all sorts. I’ve been a few times and it’s ace (so is Pat). Last Thursday evening I was downstairs at Ku Bar in Soho for the last Let’s Talk Gay Sex & Drugs open mic night hosted by Pat Cash.
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