After spending six weeks together in the support group, there is one thing all participants realized they have in common: having been rejected more times than they can count. Too fat, too skinny, HIV positive, skin too dark, using drugs, not using drugs, not using the right drugs, too old, too young, too “feminine,” not a top, not “hung” enough, too loud, too shy, too direct, not assertive enough, too assertive, and much more. And while we can’t expect someone to be everyone’s type — therefore never experiencing rejection —, the line is often really fine between rejection and discrimination. Is it ever really “just a preference?”
Although rejection seems like a universal theme in our communities, it is also one that can be quite difficult to address. There are a few reasons for that.
First, because it is hard to provide individual support to systemic discrimination problems. Sexual racism, fatphobia and cisgenderism, to name only a few, are real issues that are impossible to fix quickly, and impossible to fix with individual changes. These are systemic problems that will need systemic solutions, not attainable through therapy. Although there are tips people can use to avoid being confronted with discrimination as much as possible, nobody wants to hear “have you tried smiling more” after years of being rejected for being a person of colour or living in a larger body. The notion that with enough hard work, you can mold yourself to anything you want has had disastrous consequences on many gay men’s mental and physical health. What I like to call the “batman phenomenon,” the stereotype of men who have managed to shape themselves into a higher being just through hard work (and infinite wealth in the case of Bruce Wayne), promotes the idea that individuals can achieve success and overcome adversity through their own efforts, without acknowledging the role of social and economic structures in shaping opportunities. Or the limitation of their own body and mind. To this day, the “American Dream” and the diet industry are still using this false idea to indoctrinate people into thinking that they have complete control over their destiny and their looks. Innumerable movies, from Rocky to Legally Blonde, showcase unrealistic montages that condense months of training into a ninety-second pop song, making our brain think that real-life self-improvement can be as drastic as what is seen in fiction. While it is important to work on bettering ourselves, achieving perfection is not a realistic goal. And for many people, this is a very fine line to walk.
This leads to the second reason why addressing rejection can be tricky. A lot of people tend to deal with discrimination by thinking that, if only they were perfect, they would never experience exclusion again. This can cause a lot of distress for various reasons, notably because perfection doesn’t exist, but also because it is a false premise. There is no amount of “perfection” that can keep rejection at bay forever. And there are things about ourselves that we just cannot change that much. It also puts a lot of pressure on us to make changes as individuals, instead of coming together to challenge systemic problems. Creating an endless loop of comparison in which nobody is satisfied, and keeping the pressure up for all members of our communities. As one of my mentors would say to me: “So many of us have lived with so much invalidation in our life that simply being adequate is not good enough, we have to become better than.” In a community in which so many people are in the constant quest to be better than others, the pressure to attain perfection can leave many in a very understandable state of depletion.
Finally, rejection is a difficult topic to approach because the answer cannot merely be “let’s get rid of all rejection altogether and we can all be friends and lovers.” Sure, gay men could learn to be kinder and more respectful to one another — especially online —, but simply by virtue of the sheer number of humans existing in our cities, one has to place boundaries. Every now and then, I work with people who have suffered so much from rejection that they have pledged to reply to every single person who approaches them on a dating app. Almost every time, this story ends with this person being overwhelmed, stuck in conversations they are not enjoying and scared they are giving false hopes to their interlocutors. Most end up deleting the apps for months without any explanation to anyone, just to get away from the situation. Ghosting hopeful individuals on the other side of the screen who can do nothing else but to wonder at what they did wrong. Creating a world in which everyone is friends with everyone is unfortunately not a realistic goal, and however nicely people are placing boundaries or saying “no,” being on the other side of it will feel disappointing.
Additionally, when speaking of rejection, we need to consider what researcher Elizabeth McConnell and her colleagues found in their research regarding rejection sensitivity. Rejection sensitivity is a personality trait characterized by a tendency to perceive a higher sense of rejection in social situations, and to react strongly to it. In other words, people who are high in rejection sensitivity may be more likely to interpret ambiguous social cues as indication of rejection, and to overreact to even minor signs of rejection. They may also be more likely to avoid social situations to prevent potential rejection. Because of experiences of discrimination and rejection that gay men may face as a result of their identity from a very young age, queer men might be more susceptible to rejection sensitivity than our straight counterparts. In a 2016 study on 298 young gay men, Elizabeth McConnell and her colleague found that rejection sensitivity was a significant predictor of loneliness within her participants, even after controlling for social support. Which means that gay men who are more sensitive to rejection may be more likely to experience feelings of loneliness, even if they have a great social support network. On top of trying to achieve perfection, there exists a variety of coping strategies that queer men use to avoid those feelings. For example, keeping their circle small, only approaching people who look and feel like them, spending time and energy trying to conceal parts of themselves they find unlikeable, rejecting others before they can be rejected, or avoiding certain spaces and activities.
Discrimination and projection of internalized stigma on others play a big role in the rejection that queer men experience, since they are omnipresent in our community. Additionally, a lifetime of facing discrimination and stigma will undoubtedly increase many men’s rejection sensitivity. Meaning that they affect loneliness both in a palpable way through regular rejection, but also that they can augment the likelihood of queer men perceiving regular social interactions as rejection.
Internalized Stigma.
“I can’t help it; I’m just not attracted to effeminate guys. It’s just not for me. I don’t feel comfortable around them.”
As the words come out of Stephen’s mouth, I can feel most of the other participants cringe in their chair. If, on the one hand, I am happy that Stephen feels comfortable enough in the group to say out loud something that he probably knows will not be well received, I am also aware that I need to intervene quickly and address this comment. After all, as a conventionally attractive cisgender white man, I doubt that Stephen has had that much difficulty expressing his devil’s advocate opinions often and loudly in the past. I jump in before my co-facilitator Alejandro, with his painted nails and the look of indignation on his face, has time to say anything. Having been in this situation numerous times before, I know that direct confrontation very seldom yields the results one is hoping for. Especially confrontation from one of the facilitators. Instead, I decide to explore Stephen’s emotions, hoping that this exploration will get better results than shutting him down. “What do you mean, not comfortable?”
After a short exchange, I am able to get access to some of what is underneath his boisterous bravado. Stephen talks of his life before his coming out and of his fear of being discovered. It becomes quickly obvious that he had many years to internalize the (false) idea that it is “that kind of gay guys” who give a bad reputation to the community. And who make it harder for “people like him” to come out. He slows down and explains that, once, while still in the closet and travelling out of the city, he had secretly gone out on a date with a man he had met online. Stephen had been stupefied to meet with a person who was, according to him, very easily identifiable as gay because of his mannerisms. Stephen explains that he had a terrible hour at the restaurant, feeling like all eyes were on him. “What if someone recognizes me?,” was a constant chorus in his head.
What Stephen doesn’t quite realize yet, is that what actually feared was: “what if people start judging me the same way I am judging the man in front of me?”
As he relays his story and opens up more, I can feel the other participants in the group getting calmer. Although they still do not approve of Stephen’s words, they can all understand the need for safety. And the length to which we can go to protect ourselves. Once Stephen had time to express himself, I let Alejandro and the other members of the group try to deconstruct some of Stephen’s internalized stigma. Feeling like he was heard in his controversial opinion, this one is now able to take part in the conversation and to admit that he needs to be more careful with his words. Eventually, Kenneth chimes in: “A part of me understands you, Stephen. When I was a kid, at school, I was bullied a lot. But mostly for being very skinny, and not being good at sports. There was another kid at school — I still remember his name, Luke — who was constantly bullied for being too gay. I wish I could go back in time and befriend him. We could’ve been friends. We could’ve had each other’s back. But instead, I joined the larger group and started bullying him as well. Not as much as some of the other kids were, but enough to make sure I wouldn’t draw any attention to me. I was not even ten years old, and I had somehow understood that when they were busy attacking him, they were not attacking me. I think about him all the time. I wonder what happened with his life.” After long seconds of silence, Tan retorts: “I did almost exactly the same thing. People noticed less that I was half Asian and awkward in my gender when I hung out with the white bullies. His name was Matthew. He had to change school in grade 8. I hope he is okay, today.”
Internalized stigma — which is also known as internalized homophobia when referring to homosexuality — refers to the process in which a person absorbs the negative messages and stereotypes present in our society and comes to believe that they are true. And that they apply to themselves and to other members of their community. Among gay men, the term internalized homophobia arises from living in societies where homosexuality has historically been stigmatized, leading to a range of negative impacts on well-being. For example, Stephen who blames “effeminate” members of our communities for the violence done towards queer people, instead of blaming the people who are actually committing said violence. Another example would be queer people who have internalized that they are bringing shame to their family. I have heard so many coming out stories in which the queer kids ended up having to take care of their parents’ feelings — “did we do something wrong?” — instead of receiving the love and support that they deserved.
However, internalized stigma goes beyond internalized homophobia, as there is much more than homosexuality that is stigmatized in the world. People can internalize stigma against race, culture, economic status, weight, look, gender, age, disability, (mental) health, HIV status, and so much more. In the north-western atmosphere, is it almost impossible not to have internalized some parts of the idea that the most “normal” human is a white, able-bodied, middle class, cisgender, straight man. And that everything else is “abnormal” by comparison. That everything else has to be signified as “other.” This bias in our perception leads to a lot of discrimination, often disguising itself as preference. And this discrimination can be directed towards others as frequently as it can be directed towards ourselves. While internalized stigma directed at others creates rejection, stereotyping and negative assumptions, internalized stigma directed towards oneself can lead to self-rejection, feelings of shame, and to a belief that I am inherently wrong or immoral. These manifest in low self-esteem, self-doubt, self-hatred and a lack of self-acceptance. Like for Nick and Ari, who was also bigger when he was younger, who both had to unlearn the idea they were worth less as human beings because of their weight.
Internalized stigma can also affect the formation and maintenance of romantic relationships. It can lead certain queer men to self-imposed barriers when seeking romantic partners, either by only being open to people they deem “acceptable” based on biased society standards, or by thinking they are not good enough to approach guys they perceive as better than them. Internalized stigma can also lead to putting pressure on themselves or their partner to adhere to strict normative heterosexual partnership roles. Some queer men may develop a fear of intimacy, or they may struggle with self-disclosure and vulnerability due to the fear of being rejected or judged. Rending communication impossible between them and their partner and ultimately causing a gap too large to bridge between the two of them. Yet others may unconsciously self-sabotage their relationships because of a deep-rooted feeling that they are flawed and do not deserve happiness, or that something will undoubtedly go wrong soon, since “it always does.”
“What am I supposed to do, then,” ask Greg. “I always get rejected because I am too effeminate. That’s why I go to the gym so much. Because masculine and muscular guys only date other masculine and muscular guys. And this is who I am attracted to. Am I supposed to go out on dates with guys I am not attracted to?” For this question, I have two answers. The first one, the hardest one, is the suggestion that he could expand his definition of who is attractive — notably by consuming different types of (social) media and porn, for example. The second part of the answer is to question what he means by masculine.
I ask each group participant, explaining that there are no bad answers and that there will be no judgment, what masculine means for them. I note that we already have two very different definitions. For Stephen, masculinity is described by the tone of voice and certain hand gestures, while for Greg, masculinity means being muscular. After a quick laugh, Ari decides to answer first: “I don’t know. Someone with daddy energy? I guess it’s just a certain type of assertiveness. I think the clothes they wear, too.” Quickly, Kenneth contradicts him: “The clothes? No! Short shorts are supposed to be effeminate. But there is nothing I find more manly than a guy with strong legs wearing short shorts. Oh! And someone with big hands too.” Tan mentions that it is hard for them not to have internalized the idea that real men have a penis, but they also mention that facial and chest hair is what they think is the most masculine in a person. “And tattoos, of course.” For Sanjay, it is someone with a stable job and who looks good in a suit, while Colin talks about being Asian and having been perceived as feminine his whole life, even if he has always preferred to top. For him, people who top are more masculine. Everybody turns to Nick, the only person who hasn’t answered yet, and he simply shrugs. “I never really cared much for masculine guys. In my head, they are the loud douchy men who work in construction. I have no interest in dating them.” After everyone is done laughing, I turn back to Greg and remind him that with so many various definitions of “masculine” in one room, it might be a good idea to drop the word altogether. Maybe instead of saying he is into masculine guys, he could simply keep in mind that he is more attracted to a certain body type, while continuing to keep an open mind to all of the other attractive queer men who do not have the physique western mainstream media have fed us our entire life.
Systemic Stigma.
On top of homophobia and femmephobia, there are many more things that need to be addressed in a segment about internalized stigma and discrimination. Notably transphobia, racism, fatphobia and lookism. With my professional practice as a psychotherapist, I have often been noticing how much these systemic issues have impacted individuals in our communities; even if they do not impact every person in the same way. I have also seen the influence they can have on loneliness and relationships.
While it is true that rejection sensitivity makes some people more sensitive to systemic discrimination than others, it doesn’t mean that these phenomena are not real. Sanjay, for example, who is not using dating apps like Grindr or Tinder, who continually sees the positive in each situation and who is not always the best at reading subtleties in social interactions, mentions having no problem with racism while he is out in the Village. For him, people having preferences is part of life and he doesn’t let it impact his life. Ari, on the other hand, has noticed the discrimination his whole life. “I went on a trip to Montréal last summer and all my white friends were receiving a ton of messages on Grindr. Meanwhile, my phone and the phone of my other friend of colour were completely silent. It’s hard to prove without a doubt that it was due to racism, but it still hurts.” When Kenneth opens up about the topic, it is to mention that he sometimes feels guilty for having no black friends. He explains that he had traded all of his high school friends for his boyfriend’s friends when they moved in together. “I try not to spend too much time thinking about the fact that my boyfriend only has white friends. Most of the time, I am the only black person in the room. I was raised by my white mother in a mostly white neighborhood, but I had some black friends when I was younger. Now I am trying to avoid thinking of the fact that I have a harder time getting close to my black coworkers.”
After seven weeks in the support group and having been quite interested in everything that has been said since the first week — in particular by Ari, Tan and Colin — Kenneth is more and more aware that he would like more diversity in his life. With the voice of someone who reveals something personal, he acknowledges that he has spent so much time in his youth being angry at his black father that he has purposefully set this part of his identity aside. As if his anger towards his dad had extended to all black people. Admitting that he doesn’t know any black queer men outside of what he saw on Ru Paul’s Drag Race, he wonders what kind of stigma he has been internalizing due to his experience. Tan smiles at Kenneth and tells him that it took them a while to be comfortable in queer Asian spaces, because they never felt like they belonged. “I am so glad I got over my fear and pushed through, though. I learned so much about myself in those spaces. Even if I don’t always feel like I belong, since I was born here and I only speak English. It brought me closer to my mother, as well. She got to meet other Asian folks who are trans. And even one woman who is fluent in Cantonese. Asian gay men face a different type of rejection than black men, especially those who have an accent. They are often not taken seriously, or treated like they are less intelligent. I guess I look white enough, so when I say I am trans, people forget I am Asian. Not that being trans is always easy in the gay community.”
Systemic stigma against trans men within the gay community can stem anywhere from a “simple” lack of knowledge or understanding about transgender experiences, to a more violent and active intolerance. If there is a general lack of gay representation in the media, there is an even bigger lack of trans representation in gay media. Gay movies and TV shows tend to focus on the experience of cis gay men, overlooking the experiences of trans men and reinforcing a sense of invisibility and exclusion. This erasure can often lead to an invalidation of trans men’s sexual orientation from some cisgender gay men, making gay trans men have to deal with a double discrimination, including the transphobia they experience from within their own community. Furthermore, a fear of rejection — that can even be verbally or physically violent at times — when disclosing their gender identity can make some trans men isolate from the gay community, or avoid certain parties or spaces where they have not been welcomed in the past. Especially sex-oriented spaces like backrooms or bathhouses. While Tan mentioned having met more than a few nice people on dating apps, they also disclose not using them at the moment. “I just don’t have the emotional strength right now. I do feel like it is very isolating not to be online while I am single, but I’m still happy with my decision to take a break. Even if most people were gentle about it, it always hurt to be rejected because I don’t have the body part they were hoping to play with. And on the other side of the spectrum, there are people messaging me from hundreds of kilometres away because they have a fetish for trans guys. I know I’ll go back online some day, and hopefully things are changing and trans guys get more and more visibility and respect in the meantime.”
When it comes to looks and weight, the story is always a little bit different. While people understand that they cannot change their race, there is this idea in our society that everyone can control the way they look. Especially when it comes to weight. The idea that a person only needs to “change their lifestyle” or “try harder” to gain control over their size and their body. After all, we have all seen the transformations in the reality show The Biggest Loser. What the infamous series doesn’t tell us, however, is that a few years after being on the show, the participants had regained 70% of the weight lost during those few weeks, and that ten years after being on the ranch, many still suffered from long-term health issues caused by the abuse they put their body through in order to win that million dollar. More and more fat activists like journalist Aubrey Gordon and nutritionist Christie Harrison are releasing evidence stating that, on top of not working, dieting hurts people physically, mentally and emotionally. However, the message widely conveyed in the media is that weight is within your control, making fat people seem lazy and unhealthy. While studies after studies have proven that weight bias and weight stigma are much more damaging for health than the numbers on the scale, the pressure of being thin has never been higher. And fatphobia is alive and well in the gay community. Especially online. “You have no idea the kinds of things people allow themselves to say to me on an app like Grindr,” discloses Nick. “But it affects my life much more than that. I went to a clinic to talk about PrEP with a doctor, and I could tell from his attitude that he was sceptical that someone looking like me was having sex. He literally told me that PrEP was only prescribed to people who were sexually active. After I told him I was, he explained that I should consider the effect of Truvada on my health, before spending five minutes telling me I should eat more fruits and vegetables. I ran away from his office as soon as I could and I didn’t go back for the follow-up appointments. I am still not on PrEP.”
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Growing up queer almost invariably means growing up with some form of trauma, fear, rejection, or invalidation. Often all four and more. It is unsurprising to me that many people in our communities have adapted strong strategies to keep themselves safe. Like Stephen who has suffered so much from his own internalized fears about being gay that he now rejects loudly everyone he perceives as being too feminine. Greg who spends most of his free time at the gym to compensate for having been rejected for being too skinny. Nick who uses an aggressive tone on his dating profile and in online conversations trying to avoid getting hurt by fatphobic comments. Colin who is friendly to everyone, but has altogether stopped trying to get close to anyone. Or Tan who has decided to opt out of online dating completely. And while these strategies may have some usefulness (“why should I keep doing something that hurts me?”), they can leave many feeling quite isolated.
When it comes to internalized stigma and discrimination, the work is then two-fold. First, we need to continue to fight and educate ourselves against prejudices — the external ones we face and the ones we have internalized. And second, we need to look at our own coping strategies and see where we can soften the edges a little bit. To start letting people in even if it makes us feel a little vulnerable, and to learn that we are worthy despite the messages heard in our communities.
Vincent Francoeur 