The Gayest Argument of All

Every year or so, another gay magazine/website/blog/Facebook group releases a guide to the "Gayest"/"Best Gay"/"Proudest" cities in America, and every year I hear the same question be shouted at the top of several lungs:

"What about San Francisco/New York?"

Now, being an East Coaster, I am of course prejudiced in my belief that New York is where it all began, primarily because...well, it was there before either Los Angeles or San Francisco.  L.A. can argue that they have the oldest gay pride celebration, Christopher Street West - a pride festival which they conveniently had to name after a street located, where else?  New York.

I am also frequently reminded that, in the 50s, 60s, and 70s, gays and lesbians flocked to California after the War was over, seeking sexual freedom in the land of plenty, and Harvey Milk, and the gay motorcycle clubs, and the et cetera ad nauseum.

Well, it's 2013 - things change.

People who live in these long ago self-anointed "Gay Meccas" are often aghast to learn that Salt Lake City, UT, Grand Rapids, MI, Knoxville, TN, or Atlanta, GA are considered "Gayer" than San Francisco.

"BLASPHEMY!" they shout (read: type) on the message boards, comment threads, and Facebook status updates.  "No city is more associated with the LGBT community than San Francisco!"

I mean...I guess so, yeah, in the long run.  Frankly, it's really kind of a hole.  A very overpriced hole that has fallen prey to the same sort of gentrification the LGBT community consistently brings to shithole areas that drives up property values, gets listed as the "It" place to live, and then prices the community out of the market.

Instead of recognizing that progress is being made across the country, the gay community can do nothing but grouse about the fact that not everyone in who identifies as LGBT faces the Bay Area during the call to prayer.

Don't get me wrong; I understand the furor - New York has fallen prey to the same social blight - the gays moved in, cleaned up the place, and the next thing you know, no one can afford to live there, and really why would they want to?

But, as I said, the bigger story here is that people are comfortable being gay in Salt Lake City, Grand Rapids, Knoxville, and Atlanta, and are able to stay in these areas and make lives for themselves.  The point that is often overlooked is that it's okay to be gay in these places, now, whereas before, people had to escape to the big three - L.A., New York, and San Francisco - in order to find acceptance.  This is a monumental change, and is also one that deserves more attention.

Rather than balk at the fact that other people don't find these cities all that great, we should be celebrating the fact that gay people can now start to lead "normal" lives in areas of the country where before, this was all but impossible.

Sure, they may not have a dozen or more gay bars to choose from, or a bevy of overpriced brunch spots for Sunday morning, and they may not have the street fairs, giant (corporatized) pride festivals, or black/red/white/purple/pink/beige/blue/yellow parties, but maybe not everyone has to measure what makes a cities the "gayest" by what makes it the most exhausting.

As I write this from Los Angeles, I am pondering a return to Kingsport, TN - a place I would never before have considered "home" - primarily because I have nearly run out of steam at 31 to try and struggle to afford an overpriced hovel in one of L.A.'s 88 ghettos.  As I do so, I weigh in my mind the relative pros and cons of living in these areas, and keep coming back to the same argument - "Why do I want to fight to live somewhere that just doesn't provide me with something I couldn't get cheaper and with less hassle elsewhere?"

My ex puts it nicely:  "Where you live, there you are."

I used to scoff at this notion, saying that he'd never lived in Kingsport.  As he sleeps next to me, I can't help but think that maybe he's been right, all along.  I'm a pretty boring person, at 31; I prefer to spend my time at home, playing video games, reading books, and watching television - all things I could do for far less money in almost any other place in America.  Sure, I would miss the nightlife, and a lot of the locals can be downright terrifying, but if it means that I don't have to fight just to survive and stay happy, am I willing to sacrifice the relative benefits in order to attain some level of affordability?

Maybe so.  But, maybe my slight increase in age has lent me some sort of wisdom that I failed to possess, before - maybe I stopped measuring what it meant to be gay by how many bars I could go to, and started measuring it by where I could start to build a long-term life for myself.

Things to ponder.