As the mother of all leather
contests wrapped up, and contestants headed back to their respective
communities, I found myself contemplating the purpose behind these annual
contests, and the rituals they spawned in our community. In his speech marking
the opening ceremony for International Mr. Leather 2011 last year, I recall
Chuck Renslow saying that this annual festival is not about choosing the best
looking body, or the most handsome face, but it is about who is the most
suitable ambassador for us as a community. In his opening remarks for IML 2012,
Renslow stated, “What we do tonight right here in this room will be history by
morning. The very fact that you are here in this room tonight is an amazing
story. It is your story. I want to encourage you... each of you...to begin
recording your personal history and the history of those around you.”
One of these statements talks
about the winner of IML as an ambassador to the community at large, and the
other places emphasis on the individual. The two of course go hand in hand, and
speak of the tremendous impact one person can have on their individual family,
local community, or even their international impact. However, these statements
also make me ponder the reasons one would run for a title, and compete in such
a contest. Does one run for the sake of their community, their state, or
country? Or does one run for their own personal reasons? Or is it both?
I am reminded of a conversation I
had with a, then acquaintance, as he was contemplating running for a leather
title. When I asked him why he wanted the title, he recounted service to the
community, elevating the status of the state in the larger community, and
spouted off all these community service projects and events he would like to
start. While I admired his—what I can only describe as nationalistic zeal—for
his state and community, I remember looking him straight in the eye and saying,
“fuck the community, why do YOU want the title?”
My question was not because I
don’t believe in the importance of community service, and using one’s awarded
title to make a difference in the community; because I do. And, as we have seen
from the repertoire of community service projects this and past years’
contestants have, community service is a highly important aspect of any
contestant’s resume. But, I do believe that running for a title is a very
personal decision, and one has to have a solid foundation of personal reasons
for seeking a title in order to be a strong and effective titleholder.
A couple of years ago I decided
to run for a title, way before I was ready to I think. In discussing it with
several friends and acquaintances, I was struck by one person in particular. I
have since come to call that person Cartman. As I went through my spiel about
running for the title, Cartman kept throwing me curveballs in order to dissuade
me. I spouted off community service reasons, competing at IML, and other
similar justifications. After listening, and interjecting liberally, Cartman
finally yelled, “IT’S A BAR TITLE”. That comment alone jolted me out of this
fantasy about winning that leather title. It is a bar title, and it is just a
piece of leather with letters on it, that on their own do not mean a damn
thing. It is the person that makes the sash. It is the person that makes the
title.
Running for a title is an
intimately personal decision. It takes courage, motivation, ego, pride,
humility, and a whole other basket of contradictory emotions to want to run and
win a leather (or any) title. Otherwise, why the hell would anyone want to
subject themselves to a furor of scrutiny, judgment, hazing, and hundreds upon
hundreds of people saying “this is what you should/shouldn’t do”?
It also takes honesty, clarity of
vision, and most importantly, the ability of a person to cut through their own
bullshit. Why did I run for a title a couple of years ago? In all honesty, I
can say it was for validation. I was turning thirty, on the verge of becoming a
US citizen, struggling to convince myself that I have found my place in the world,
and wanting desperately to believe
that I mattered. I wanted people to see me, and listen to me, want me, lust
after me, and validate me. I said then that I wanted to use my experience as a
gay asylee from Egypt to show others like me that was OK to be gay, into
leather, and be out of the closet to your community, and family. I said I
wanted to be a spokesperson and a role model for that cause. While this was
true, the most important of all reasons…the deeply and intimately personal
reason, was that I needed to be validated. I wanted this proverbial community
to pat me on the back, hoist me over its shoulders, and hold my hands as I
smashed through my insecurities, and validate my choices.
And you know something, that’s
fine. Whatever one’s reasons for running are fine, because it is not I, or the
next guy, or the bar owner, or the guy down the street that are up there on
that stage. But own it! If you are running for a title because you want to have
sex, and using the title is your ticket to getting laid, then own it. If you
are fat, and want to run to validate your size, then own it. If you are
insecure, and want the title to validate your life, and your decisions, your
looks, or otherwise, then own it. If you want the title for visibility to
promote a community service project, or draw attention to a cause, then own it.
You don’t have to own it publicly, or acknowledge it on stage. But, you do (if
you want to be a strong contestant), have to own it privately, to yourself,
looking yourself in the mirror.
As we enjoy the lull between the
end of IML and the fall contest season; and as current title holders continue
their community work, or whatever it is they plan on doing with the rest of
their year; I invite people to think of why they ran, or plan to run for a
title. Cut the crap, scale your walls, and chisel away at the protective wall
you built around your pride, and your insecurities. Because, at the end of the
day, it is you naked (well, almost naked) on a stage in front of hundreds of
people, being judged on who you are.
