One of the many joys of married life is that my darling husband knows exactly how to push my buttons, and occasionally does it on purpose so he can enjoy my reaction. Here is a prime example, when he subjected me to something he found on Mastodon the other day. I started barking seven words in, and had to be told to shut up and listen to the rest of it, so I present it to you now in full, in all its capital-letter-free glory:
“attention, over forty queers:
do the thing. it is okay, you are not too old. besiders, older queers like us deserve visibility too. but for that to be happen, we need to make ourselves visible.
one of the most interesting and fun genres of online posts i see is zoomers and young millennials getting really hype cuz they found a video of like a 55 year old woman who picked up fortnight, or a 65 year old grandfather in a rap battle. no one is gonna laugh at you because people just kinda instinctively realize doing cool stuff when you are old is cool. so do the thing.
write fan fiction. start a blog about cool rocks. paint edgy horror art, dj a set, become a pro gamer. open furry porn commissions. learn guitar. change your career. write a novel. write a comic. do not march into the last half of your life with shame and regret in your hearts. you are beautiful and your passion is as radiant as the sun.
so do the thing.”
If you’ve visited my blog before, you’ve probably read my thoughts on the Q Word, and you’ll know that we don’t use that sort of language in this house. (I particularly despise it, in fact, when – as here – it’s used as a noun.) Then, having started badly by putting me in “point of order, m’lud” mode, the author of the post issues the first of three repeated commands to “do the thing”, which I know is an example of quirky TikTok-talk, but to me just sounds like something I’d say when I’m having a middle-aged brain-fart and can’t remember any words. (I seem to have started barking seven words in again. This is not good.)
Onward. “Queer visibility”? H’mm. I’d argue that that particular phenomenon has never been more visible than it is now, though in an increasingly performative world, “exhibitionism” might be a more accurate word to use than “visibility”. The media in general are enthusiastically on board, though predictably narrowly selective about what they want to make visible, seeming to feel the aim is best achieved by putting the usual gaudy drag act front and centre to shriek clichés for the camera, and then expecting us boring and ordinary gay men, lesbians and, I daresay, transsexuals to feel not only “represented”, but honoured by and grateful for the fact that the apparition in question deigned to turn up. No, thank you; not today. Perhaps if the media showed more of us boring-and-ordinaries – well, any, to be frank, outside of the viewers’ gardens spots on “Gardeners’ World” – fewer young ‘uns would come to believe that the One True Way To Be Gay is to jazz-hands it through life as if auditioning for an imaginary pantomime, and that they’re letting the side down if they’re not into it. But that wouldn’t make for such arresting television, would it?
Next point. I have a hard time believing that anybody in their forties really needs to be told they’re “not too old” these days. People in general are living for a lot longer than they used to, and the saying “fifty is the new forty” was doing the rounds twenty years ago. I don’t see any reason why turning forty should still be thought of as crossing any kind of “death of fun” threshold; turning fifty certainly isn’t. One major benefit of getting older, in fact, is that you’ve “grown into” yourself – you know who you are, with all your strengths and weaknesses, and how to work within that – and if there’s one thing you’re “too old” for, surely that must be to start worrying that the younger generations might laugh at you for doing something important to you that you want to do. Why would you care? Maybe some of them do indeed think you’re cool for being a “65-year-old grandfather in a rap battle”, and maybe you find that validating somehow; very nice too, but don’t get over-excited – they may think you’re cool, but not so cool that they’re going to invite you over for a cosy brunch any time soon. The fact is, unless you hang out with the young ‘uns on a regular basis, they’re unlikely to pay much if any attention to you, and any judgmental side-eye coming your way will be from people of around your own age. Something the author of the post doesn’t bring up – it may not have occurred to her, perhaps because I’d guess men get this more, and straight men probably the most – is the issue of being the target of dismissive smirking about “mid-life crises”. Ignore this sort of thing. It’s just mean-spirited crabs-in-a-bucket stuff from those who aren’t in a position (or feel they aren’t) to make the changes they’d like to make in their own lives, and don’t want to see you making such changes in your own. You don’t need to take any notice.
The irritating thing about all this is that I don’t even disagree with the core message of what the poster said, just the funny assumptions she attaches to it. I’m a great believer in the power of art and creativity as a means of personal fulfilment through self-expression. Since we live in a world which seems to be growing sicker by the day, we need that; it’s a powerful antidote to all the crap, and don’t let anyone tell you it’s about “escapism” – you’re making your own world stronger and truer, and not hiding from the ugly aspects of the world you’ve inherited. (Side note, for those of us interested – it’s also a very potent magical tool.)
I, of course, have my writing. Attending my evening class in creative writing some years ago was my turning point, after nearly two decades of believing I’d probably never write anything again because I wasn’t good enough. A bit of encouragement, an up-for-it peer group, a bit of feedback and a frankly brilliant and approachable course leader together provided exactly the push I needed to realise that actually, when I’m in the zone, I’m pretty damn good. And here I am, two books in. (Side note, again – I was forty-three when I took my course, and over half the people attending the class were at least in their fifties. So, you see.)
You already know what you want to do, even if it’s something you’ve blocked out of your mind as impossible when you look at your range of options. If it is, then tough titty – I’m unblocking it, here and now (clicks fingers) and it’s time you looked into it. Paint, write, knit, take singing lessons, create extraordinary things with papier mâché, get into amateur dramatics – whether that means performing, stage-managing or making the costumes – and don’t let me catch you thinking there’s anything “only” or “less than” about being an amateur as opposed to a professional, or we shall end up Having Words. All “amateur” means is that you do something because you enjoy it, and that’s what we want! Learn a foreign language purely for the love of it and not because it might come in useful, or do a Tolkien, construct your own and write poems in it. Fuck it, drag up if that’s what floats your boat – despite whatever conclusion you’ve jumped to from reading what I said earlier, it’s not me who’s trying to stop you; it’s just not something I personally care for, and I don’t think it’s anything like as representative of non-heterosexual people as some will claim or others assume. You might be turned off by Elvish poetry, and that’s fine too.
In the end, whatever it is you go in for, my advice is this. (Yes, I know you didn’t ask, and obviously you don’t have to follow it, but I’ll give it to you anyway, for you to disregard at your leisure.) Carry on. See where you can take it, and where it takes you; don’t be a dick about it; don’t let being seen doing it eclipse the importance of actually doing it, because then you can find yourself trying to create what you think “your public” wants, rather than what you mean to; and when it stops being fun, stop doing it – or at least take a breather, work out what about it isn’t working for you and correct your course accordingly. That’s all. And that’s the advice I’d give to anybody, to be honest, irrespective of his or her age or sexual orientation. Let “visibility” look after itself, because it will.
An example of the sort of advice nobody needs, on the other hand, is any of that gushing “you are beautiful and your passion is as radiant as the sun” tommyrot. Good gods, woman. Pull yourself together.