Who's Afraid of the PDA's?

What is fear? Fear can be anything. Spiders. Heights. Dentists. Enclosed spaces. Your father singing karaoke. Yet another series of Australian Idol.

Fear shouldn’t be holding your boyfriend’s hand in public.

I make no secret of being gay. In fact, it’s such common knowledge that apparently I was the last to know. I never hide it. Sure I don’t go out in the streets wearing tights and makeup and tiaras and fairy wings (anymore) and shouting ‘look at me! I like men!’ But I’ve never felt any reason to act differently than I always have done.

But I’ve found that all my boyfriends have been afraid to hold my hand in public.

It makes me angry. Not at them. Never at them; rather, at a society that makes them feel this way. This isn’t the dark ages! Doctors no longer use leeches. Houses are lit by electricity. Women are allowed out of the kitchen (which is just as well – if Amy Winehouse was confined to a kitchen god knows what would come out of it). So why are we so behind on other things like tolerance; something that really matters?

I thought things were better. Or am I just naïve? I’ve been told that often enough (my sister said if I was a caveman I would have been eaten by now). We have far more rights than we used to. But what are rights without the freedom to express ourselves in public without fear? No piece of paper can do that, unless it’s a particularly heavy piece of paper which you can use to hit people with. I know things such as gay marriage and legal recognition of gay couples and their rights are important. But what is infinitely more important in my eyes is the freedom to act like a couple in public.

PDA’s they’re called; Public Displays of Affection. Makes me think of WMD’s. Perhaps one day they’ll discover there are no PDA’s, and people only really date in order to get cheap oil. I’m not talking about anything major. Even a straight couple would get strange looks if they suddenly fell to the ground in passionate raptures in the middle of the street. I’m talking about little romantic things; a peck on the cheek. A squeeze of the hand. Walking arm in arm through a shopping centre.

Is it all in our heads? Are things actually better but we nonetheless still fear persecution? Probably not. Only this week a friend of my partner had ‘Faggot’ shouted at him from a car as he walked down the street. It’s never been a term I’ve understood – what the hell does a bundle of sticks have to do with sexuality? Unless you’re a Freudian. There is physical danger out there – but words are words. They hold no real power (and as I say this I am betraying the whole profession of journalism and my fellow writers). But the truth is; words can only hurt you if you let them.

What can one person do against such hatred? What can anyone do? There are people out there fighting this sort of thing. But it still doesn’t seem to be enough. Who has the answers? You? Me? Wikipedia? Is education the answer? It has to be the answer to something – I’m sure they’ll discover it someday. Or is it down to the individual? If every gay couple put aside their fear and acted like any other couple in public, perhaps it will be seen as normal and slowly become an accepted behaviour.

So I urge every gay person I know (and even those I don’t know) do defy the norm, and act in public the same way you would if you were in a heterosexual relationship. Who knows? It might help. The more people understand homosexuality, the less they’ll be afraid. As Marie Curie said; “Nothing in life is to be feared, only understood”. Granted her attempt at understanding radioactive substances brought about her premature death, but why spoil a good point? The statement is relevant nonetheless.

So go forth, be free, be not afraid.

You might just be surprised.

Dedicated to the best boyfriend a man could ever have.