I love culture. I love participating in it. I love critiquing it. I love creating it.

 

At its most simple, culture is a conversation. A set of sometimes shared, sometimes contentious ideas passed between more than one person. Culture can exist on a large scale (i.e. the culture of Western society) or on a small scale (i.e. the culture of my friend group).

 

As social animals, it’s culture that dictates what’s considered right or wrong, good or bad, desirable or faux pas. At the center of any culture lies power or popularity. At the edges—shame, stigma, judgment, and taboo. Within each culture exists subcultures. American culture, for example, could be largely divided into two primary categories defined by “opposing” political identities, the conservative and the liberal. For a culture to thrive, it must conjure and evangelize one of the most powerful substances in the world: belief.

 

Most beliefs are inherited. For instance, neither you nor I were present for the creation of the alphabet, yet by reading these letters we both unanimously believe their meaning to be true.

 

If we’re lucky, some of our inherited beliefs will be challenged throughout our lifetime. We’ll find them rubbing up against the wisdom of our own personal experience. Our own inner knowing. And thus we’ll be faced with the opportunity to grow beyond the ideas we’ve been handed and embark on the life-long journey of creating beliefs of our own.

 

I grew up in a southern conservative community. A hot cultural topic in American politics at the time was that of gay rights. In high school, it was a classroom debate. Should gay people have the right to get married? A strong-willed minority said yes, but most saw gayness as a shameful choice. A sin. Just plain unnatural. At worst, an abomination.

 

For the first 16 years of my life, I also carried these beliefs. Pain and dissonance festered within me as they rubbed up against the innocence of my most honest truth. I was terrified to be gay. I outright refused to accept it. I cried in the shower, “Why God? Why did you do this to me?” and proposed a bargain. “If you don’t make it true, I will give my life to you! I’ll do whatever you want!”

 

In time I came to realize that what god wanted for me was to be gay, not to pray it away. I started to separate my inherited beliefs from my own internal knowing — and what I got was a way forward. A path toward liberation.

 

What I didn’t realize was that this liberation would lead me to more inherited beliefs — those of the gay community. As a 21-year-old in New York City, I absorbed the cultural rules of the gay men around me. To be powerful and popular, I observed, I should love going out to bars late at night. I should drink heavily, especially on Sundays. I should have muscles and be confident wearing nearly nothing. I should have lots of Instagram followers. And I should adopt sex and lust as key aspects of my personality.

 

Boy did I have my work cut out for me.

 

One Friday night, I decided to go to Industry, a famous Hell’s Kitchen gay bar, for the first time. I asked a couple of my best friends to join me for moral support. We were young and new to the city. I was grateful to have them by my side. When we got to the front of the line, the bouncer didn’t let us in. Our “guy-to-girl ratio” was off, he said. Two girls, one guy — apparently this was not allowed. I stepped out of the line, feeling rejected. Where would I find belonging if not with the community I was told I belonged to?

 

Sometime later I got into an argument with a guy that I was briefly dating. It escalated (I kid you not) when I claimed that Lady Gaga was the greatest pop star of all time. In a belittling tone, he told me I was wrong. That I was completely ignorant. That the true greatest pop star of all time was Madonna, and that everyone knows it.

 

“Who is everyone?” I asked defensively.

He barked with a vengeance. “THE GAY COMMUNITY!”

 

I sat for a moment, angry. I mumbled in a tone half sarcastic, half giving up, “I never realized I wasn’t a part of that.”

 

Eventually I found solace in what I came to know as the queer community. My first experience was a small dive bar in Bushwick called Happy Fun Hideaway. I was surprised to find that the patrons were not just (primarily white) gay men, but instead people of all genders, all sexualities, and all colors. Lesbians! Bisexuals! Straights! I liked that the people in these queer spaces didn’t seem to be adhering to a strict set of rules. They were on the outskirts of culture. The rejects. To be among them felt like permission to be myself — whoever or whatever I decided that may be.

 

Fast forward seven years, I am now living among a largely queer community in the east side of Los Angeles. The people I’ve met are beautiful, brave, and unique in a million different directions. Each of them pioneer new ways of being and share with the world new ways of seeing. It’s a gift to witness and to be a part of.

 

But at the same time, I continue to learn that all cultures exist on a foundation of inherited beliefs. I’ve found that inherited beliefs can be especially tricky to identify in cultures that were created on the basis of liberation. A vernacular can sometimes develop that sounds like Others are closed, we are open. Others are ignorant, we truly know. Sometimes there can be an air of judgement toward people who choose paths that deviate from the new, seemingly agreed-upon definition of freedom. Even if that “freedom” is at the expense of listening to one’s self.

 

What is freedom if not a highly personal endeavor? To some, it might mean owning a gun, practicing non-monogamy, or choosing to live alone. Someone else’s idea of liberation might not liberate me. Someone else’s path to freedom might not grant me my own.

 

I don’t exactly know what freedom means for me right now. I believe in some sense, we are only as free as the gods we worship. Only as free as our ability to trust. Lately my motto has been to lean into my life and see what happens. To sink deeper into who and what I love most.

 

As I move forward, I pray that I may continue to tune into the personal slice of god within me. That I may strengthen my trust in my own inner knowing. That it may continue to light the path as I go.

 

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A few things I’m thankful for:

- Seeing Connor reunite with Hunter

- My bff Charlotte getting MARRIED!!!!!

- Coffee :)

 

 

Pop culture things I’m thinking about:

- Mary Beth Barone’s comedy special was cute

- I’m sorry but I’m still listening exclusively to new Kacey and Ariana

- This live version of Silver Springs by Fleetwood Mac is soul-poking

 

 

A random journal entry:

6.4.16

Maybe my book should be called “Memoirs of An Aesthetically Average Gay Dude“

 

 

A random thought:

Hold your friends close and your best friends closer!

 

 

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Thanks for reading :) Talk again soon.