Old Queen

When I first came out into the scene, became gay, starting going to the club or whatever you want to call it, I remember there were gay men I said I never wanted to be like. My friends and I called them old queens. It was the usually older gay man on the floor trying to drop it like its hot or dressing young or thinking they were still competing with the young crowd. They were considered jokes.

I had no idea what I would be like in my 30s or 40s a gay black man. I still had a lot to learn.

My best friend called me who lives in Los Angeles, the vainest city on the planet complaining that he felt like an old queen. He is only thirty two years old. I laughed. I’m a year younger than him, so I wanted to know what that made me. Funny, it just seemed like yesterday that we were twenty something year gay boys in tight outfits giving attitude, drinking techno colored drinks and dancing on the floor. All that has changed. I wouldn’t step foot in a club to save my life lately. I stopped going to the gym a long time ago when I discovered I could just jog in my neighborhood in the summer. I had no need for attention. When I was younger, it was all about my ego. Looking back, I couldn’t understand why I starved myself, bought clothes I couldn’t afford, and still was insecure.
But I was young, and didn’t know there were other choices. I didn’t have to follow the crowd.

Suddenly, I’m offended by the term “old queen.” I dated an older guy when I was like twenty two years old. He would get on my nerves because he was forty something years old trying act like he was nineteen years old. He would wear baggy clothes and try to talk in slang. I felt it was pathetic. He was obsessed with younger guys and I knew I was just another collectable to him. I didn’t mind because it was free dinner dates and cash when I needed it. He was my sugar daddy. But I liked him as a person. He was very intelligent, we were both writers but his need to not act his age was a major issue in our relationship. It was the main reason we don’t speak anymore. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to not enjoy his life or feel youthful. I just wanted someone to look up to I guess. I wanted him to enjoy his age because I knew I would be there one day. I felt he was insulting me by trying to stay young. We only get to do it once. I felt he should’ve been a better role model for his age being black, gay and older. It really angered and I would yell at him about it. I just didn’t understand.

Suddenly, I’m offended by the term “old queen.” Both words are negative. It’s like saying someone is worthless. I would never consider myself an old queen because I’m not worthless.

I asked my friend what it meant to be an old queen. I mean why the label. Why the judgment. I guess that’s the part of getting older you start realizing it’s all an illusion. To be young is an illusion. It’s not happiness.

Yes, life is not what I though it was going to be when I turn thirty years. When we were young, we were going to be fabulous. I guess sex and the city fabulous. Or some television show fabulous. We used to talk about how we were going to vacation in France, Jamaica, and St. Tropez. We were going to go to the fabulous party and were fabulous clothes. But no said how we were going to do it. What type of work would we do to get to that life? I, of course, was the “writer” so my life was meant to be broke. One of my friends was a “singer.” I’ve had friends who were designers, models, actors, but not all of us make it. Maybe that’s how we turn into old queens. Maybe it’s because we don’t give up the illusion.

I think I’ve given it up. I honestly don’t have anything to prove anymore. I think for my friend who worries he’s too old, he’s now worthless is greatly undervaluing him.