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Ryan G. Hinds

I use the pronoun “he.”

I’m a man. I don’t present as the most masculine version of man out there, but I’m man and that’s what I am. I’m a very effeminate man. Effeminate is different from feminine, which means womanly. Effeminacy is a soft quality, a nancy-boy quality. It’s about the lispiness, about the animated hand gestures, about not being your standard jeans-and-T-shirt guy. If I can choose between jeans and T-shirt and leopard print, I’ll choose the leopard print and put rhinestones on it.

How do I say this without quoting Lady Gaga, whom I hate: I was born this way. All my childhood pictures show me wearing fairy wings, waving magic wands, dressed as animals and wearing my mother’s shoes. I get annoyed when people say it’s learned behaviour, an affectation, something I put on to get attention. Anyone who’s known me since I was a child knows that this is the way I’ve always been.

There’s a surprising number of black men who are ragingly effeminate out there in the world. Ben Vereen and James Brown are people I’ve looked up to. They’re heterosexuals, but they were never afraid of putting on eyeliner, wearing sequins or a cape over a lamé outfit.

A big part of the gender movement is about queer identity. I’ve slept with men most of my life, but this year I was involved with a trans girl for the first time, and being involved with someone who’s more girly than I am was a real eye-opening experience. I liked her because she was sweet and funny and beautiful. Her gender, in an odd way, wasn’t even the second or third most important thing about her.

In queer circles we’re moving to a point where gender isn’t that important in terms of sexuality. The straight, mainstream world is behind on this topic, but eventually they’ll catch up.

When I think of gender, male or female rarely refer to manly or girlie. I think of people as strong or powerful or confident in their body or assertive in their movements, regardless of whether they’re male or female. Barbra Streisand, for example, is a powerful woman. Her gender didn’t stop her from asserting her strength and power and intelligence.

That goes double for the effeminate male. I look up to [soul musician] Sylvester. He stood up to record labels and went on national TV, a girly black man in lace who stood there strongly and deflected any criticism that came his way.

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