Baby gays
Summer boredom recently pushed me to revisit a show I obsessed over in high school, Grey’s Anatomy. Several years back, I trudged through 11 seasons of the show but eventually lost interest. As any good show does, Grey’s called me back into their arms. But, before jumping in, I did my research and read through summaries of the 11 seasons I previously watched. Somewhere along the way, I read something interesting. The Wiki page was filling me in on the blossoming relationship of Callie Torres and Arizona Robinson. Both Callie and Arizona are successful surgeons; Callie specializes in orthopedics, Arizona in pediatrics. The latter point led to Arizona drawing the following comparison in regards to her potential relationship with Callie:
“However, Callie's lack of experience with homosexual relationships seemed to make Arizona hesitate in the following episodes, stating she didn't want to deal also with ‘babies’ in her personal life” (Wiki).
Hmm, interesting! It got me thinking about a term that floated around me in college: baby gay. Talking to friends and checking Urban Dictionary, the term can mean a couple different things. On the surface, we can think of baby gay as someone just coming into their gay identity. This can mean that they recently “came out” (Urban Dictionary). Or, as I’ve heard it, someone who identifies as gay but has yet to have a physically intimate gay experience. Hearing this, I had some questions. What are the underlying ideas that are communicated through informal/joking language? Are we establishing hierarchies when physical intimacy is pawned as induction into the gay community? Whose identities are we invalidating when we do this?
Part of me worries about the implications of a term like baby gay despite its benign intentions. Loads of research on the implications of joking or informal language show how these phrases often communicate very real ideological beliefs. Most of this research discusses harmful racial ideologies that are reproduced through what is thought to be a harmless joke (Pérez 2022). I worry that terms like baby gay could construct pseudo-initiation expectations for people just beginning to live into their sexuality. Especially, this seems to be the case with a physical markers of acceptance.
But, what if Arizona has a point?
These themes remind me of other conversations (potentially other-side-of-the-coin conversations) regarding feelings of being used by someone trying to figure out their sexuality. These narratives typically come from places of frustration and look like the following:
You’re swiping on Tinder and you come across someone who you find very attractive. You swipe right. They match with you! You start messaging and you eventually agree to go on a date that weekend. Maybe you agree to dinner or to watch a movie at your place. Fast forward. It’s Saturday night and y’all meet up at the restaurant or wherever you agreed upon. Things are going great, and the vibes are there. The night is coming to an end. Maybe they tell you they had a great time or you lean in for a hug. Maybe you invite them inside your place to hang a little longer. Your date lets you know that they aren’t used to dating [insert your gender identity], and they feel like they just aren’t ready. They are sorry they wasted your time.
Tangent: When thinking this through, I began to wonder would this situation be different with different gender identities. For example, would this situation be different if it happened to a cis woman versus a trans woman? I want to give space here for other forms of discrimination. It’s important to acknowledge that it could also be a play here.
When speaking to people who have had these experiences, I often hear them report feelings of rejection and disappointment. This is especially true when it happens several times by various individuals to a single person. And, I’ll be the first to say, that’s a shitty experience. Feeling like you gave it your best shot when you might not have had a chance in the first place hurts. But, I think this can be a slippery logic.
To start off, part of me wonders how being rejected by someone because they aren’t used to dating [insert your gender identity] is different than being rejected in any other situation. Does someone being honest about their sexuality/their process mean they are using you? Why do we perceive the situation as different from other forms of rejection? If someone up and ghosts you after an amazing date, that doesn’t feel good, but often we just move on without another thought. My point here is not to argue that being ghosted and being rejected in this way is exactly the same but that we don’t deem other people as using us when it doesn’t work out in the former but might do so in the latter.
Further, I’ve seen this logic as a gateway to assume who might be more likely to reject you in this way. What starts out as an understandable reaction to an unfortunate situation becomes a way to potentially invalidate people and make assumptions about future Tinder options or dates. Specifically, this can manifest in regards to certain people’s “reliability” or intentions. For example, some people have expressed tendencies to avoid profiles that indicate something as broad as uncertainty about their sexuality or as specific as saying they are of a particular sexual identity (i.e. they are bisexual). The latter point is what I am interested in. What I have a problem with is when conversations about emotions of frustration and rejection take a clear biphobic turn. In these situations, I’ve seen these emotions to take shape in assumption about who is more or less likely to reject us. When we assume that all bisexual people are new to the gay scene, we alienate them from the rest of the community and perpetuate several of the stereotypes bisexuals routinely face. These stereotypes being; they are in a “phase,” confused, more likely to be unreliable partners, etc (Minus18). Just to be clear, this is not a new phenomena. NY Times coins it "double closet” due to the difficulties bisexuals face when they feel rejected not only in heterosexual communities but gay communities as well (Blum 2021).
I wanted to write this post, because I’ve seen patterns regarding the invalidating of people’s sexualities whether it is someone actually new to the gay scene or perceived to be. I think this topic is so compelling to me because there are a lot of people to consider and a lot of ways harm can be done. I understand the desire to protect yourself especially being part of a community that already receives scrutiny, but there seems to be a way we can approach this differently. I think openness and greater communication from everyone is always beneficial. If you’re going into a situation where you know it’s a new experience for you, it’s important to be open about that—especially if you are continuing to see someone. And, if you’re sure what you’re looking for, that’s probably helpful information as well! When we are faced with pain, it can be hard to hear “just be open!,” but I think if anyone was going to know the difficulties of “coming out” and trying to figure your stuff out, it would be us!
P.S. I would love to hear your thoughts below! Do you think this conversation applies to you? If not, feel free to react to it anyways. (You only need to enter a name to comment, feel free to enter your name or post under “Anonymous”).
That’s all for now! I’ll be back soon with things to say :)
References
Anon. n.d. “Season 5 (Grey’s Anatomy).” Grey’s Anatomy Universe Wiki. Retrieved August 6, 2022 (https://greysanatomy.fandom.com/wiki/Season_5_(Grey%27s_Anatomy)).
Anon. n.d. “Urban Dictionary: Baby Gay.” Urban Dictionary. Retrieved August 6, 2022 (https://www.urbandictionary.com/define.php?term=Baby%20Gay).
Blum, Dani. 2021. “The ‘Double Closet’: Why Some Bisexual People Struggle With Mental Health.” The New York Times, June 30.
Anon. n.d. “Busting 7 Myths about Being Bisexual.” Minus18. Retrieved August 9, 2022 (https://www.minus18.org.au/articles/busting-7-myths-about-being-bisexual).
Pérez, Raúl. 2022. The Souls of White Jokes: How Racist Humor Fuels White Supremacy. Redwood City: Stanford University Press.
