Devon Hunter

It is time to look for a day job to supplement my dance income. I’m tired of depending these last six months on the whim of patrons. This week has been the single worst I’ve had in nearly a year… It’s so bad that I’ve considered some options that, for me, aren’t options. And, to top it off, there’s a long-standing issue that is coming more to the fore as the economy goes from bad to poor…

There is a particular fetish that has been built up to the point that it is endemic amongst gay men, and, to be frank, it’s completely pissing me off. It’s particularly bad in Atlanta. And I’m going to rant about it. And if you don’t want to read it, then you better come back another day. Because I’m just about to the point, after several years of brushing it off with “Well, everyone has their preferences,” of telling gay men to go fuck themselves.

People want what they can’t have.

Bullshit! They want what they’ve been told they want.

Gay men have been programmed by a homophobic society to believe that straight men are the pennacle of sexuality/sexual desire/atractiveness (which fits, given that this affords preference to the heterosexual men who create and reinforce this ludicrous supposition). Gay men have been damaged by this homophobic society to the point that they can’t even be nice to each other, because we haven’t been given the opportunity to learn how to conceptualize anything beyond the stereotypical hook ups that straight men corner us into accepting as our lot as the dysfunctional perverts they think we are (and which we’ve too often become). Also, because there are no institutions that empower same-sex desire/love/relationships that balance out the institutions that disempower same-sex desire/love/relationships, there is no wide-scale acceptance amongst most gay men that it’s even a true possibility. No, it’s not enough that a few states in New England have finally legalized gay marriage in the last year or two. So don’t even put that up as an argument, or I will have to slap the taste out of your mouth.

And so, here we are. Left with the self-loathing homophobia that powers gay libidos. All these gay slots and tabs looking for straight counterparts. Well, excuse me, but fuck you. BrokeStraightGuys.com? Fuck you! FirstGaySex.com? Fuck you too!

I was told to my face last night that if I “were to just be a straight guy” I’d be “perfect” and then this patron “could finally get a lap dance” from me. Go get therapy, asshole. That says a whole lot more about you than it does me.

And since I’m being completely honest here:

1. Straight men ARE obtainable. Look around, you stupid fags! Seventy-five to ninety percent of the men in gay porn are STRAIGHT. The same proportion are straight in gay clubs with male dancers. Don’t delude yourself anymore. For being unobtainable, they sure look pretty obtainable to me with their legs up in the air. “I’d have to get alot of money to do anything gay.” Oh? What does this mean, breeder? That you think it contemptable, nasty, dirty, perverted? And so then, stupid fags, HOW IS IT DESIREABLE TO SEE A STRAIGHT GUY DO THAT WHICH HE HATES? How does this build up your gay identity to demean a straight man who is only tolerating your loathsome self because of money? And you think that’s hot? You think it’s hot to see a straight dude cringe with pain and disgust as he’s getting ram-fucked for $x??? You’re worse than the straight guy. Get out of my sight.
2. If all the straight men in gay adult entertainment were removed from it, the industry would be bereft of talent, because there wouldn’t be hardly anyone left doing it. And do you want to know why? Because YOU keep buying into the utterly fucked up notion that straight men are better than gay men.
3. Here’s a wake up call: Most of the breeders you give all your money to walk away from you, removing their smiling faces from your presence, and then go talk shit about you once you’re out of earshot. Period. End of discussion. I have held my tongue for a very long time, but I’m about to the point of calling them out when they talk shit in front of me about YOU. And if that doesn’t work I’m going to go to the patrons and tell them what is being said about them. I’ll be goddamned if I’m going to put up with this anymore. I think it’s fair to level the playing field: I’m just an undesireable homo? Okay. Fine. Well the straight guys are dickheads who generally despise you, even though they’re the ones “lowering themselves” in the first place. Now who’s more desireable? Oh? It’s still the straight guy? You know what, I don’t want your money after all. Use it to get some Zyprexa. You need it.
4. To deny you are oppressed is to aid in your oppression, but to pay for your oppression with your own effort and resources renders you a slave. A fully neurotic slave. Get therapy. (Get that Zyprexa I just mentioned.) Get a life. Get out of my face.
5. “But I like men who act like men.” You’re going to say that to me?? Right into my motherfucking face?! Fuck you! How about I punch you in your goddamned mouth for saying that to me? Would that make me butch enough to get a lap dance out of your pansy ass? Nevermind, I don’t give lap dances to fags. Only straight guys. There, how’s that? How stupid does that sound? Now try hearing it from the other direction, and think about why I’m so pissed.
6. The straight entertainers will NEVER be yours. Not even sexually. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay to touch them. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay to suck their cocks. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay to have sex with them. It doesn’t matter how many times you pay for anything. You are paying for their tricked-out rides, for their girlfriend’s boob job, for their steroids, for their babies, and for their contempt. You are wasting your time, money, and hope when you give them to straight men. I’ve been saying this throughout my entire blog, even going back to almost the very beginning with “Gay men fawning over straight dancers.”
7. You are far, far, far, far, far more likely to get your cock in a straight guy’s ass at Swinging Richards than a gay one’s. If you hear of someone getting bareback fucked in VIP, who is it? One of the gay dancers? No. Never. Not once in two years have I seen a gay dancer get fired/suspended from that club for having sex in VIP. So then, here’s where the logic loses its legs: If straight guys are so fucking unobtainable, why are they the only ones putting out? You think you can go to Blake’s and pick me up for free on a Wednesday night? Fuck you, you’d better save up your money to buy one of the unobtainable straight guys you like so much, because you’ll NEVER get this proudly flaming fag to do in VIP what those nasty straight tricks do as their default setting. Who’s unobtainable now, asshole?

Youths seeking to make gentlemen of themselves should take care to avoid dissipations, wasteful expenditures of time and resources; frivolty, which leads only to a limpid spirit; and trivial pursuits, as they are the height of selfish preoccupation with matters of no consequence. – Unknown

Okay, I admit it: That isn’t a “real” quote by some hardnose from the 19th century. I just made it up. But it exemplifies the attitude of a particular prude with a forced British accent who came into Swinging Richards last night.

“Would you like a private dance?”

“I don’t like to spend money on just anything. I have several trips planned. I part with money with difficulty, but you’re very sexy,” he said as he groped my chest and arm.

“So, you just told me that you have alot of money, that you spend alot of it, but only on yourself, and that you are, therefore, here for the free show.”

“No, that’s not true! I gave that stripper a dollar a little while ago.”

“I hope it’ll cover his rent while you’re in Majorca.”

“Well, I didn’t mean to sound greedy, but money is valuable! I don’t like to be frivolous.”

“I think you just dug a hole that you have zero hope of getting yourself out of. I wrote a blog once entitled ‘Your dollar is worth about 88 cents to me.’ You should read it.”

Stupid.

My friend David, who often manages the door at Swinging Richards, made a comment this evening that made me pause for a moment. He’s attracted to one of the dancers on a romantic level, but said, “Rule #1: Don’t date strippers.”

“Why do you think I’ve been single so long? You say you shouldn’t date a stripper, but I don’t think strippers (in general) should date anyone. But why do you feel that?”

“Aside from the the obvious, I think dancers forget the value of a real relationship.”

“You think we don’t know how to accept anything from people anymore, not even compliments.”

“Exactly.”

And he has a valid point. I was at a birthday party last weekend, and I was being inundated with compliments from strangers. I wasn’t at work. I had literally just gotten off the plane from San Diego less than an hour prior. I was tired. I wasn’t thinking about being on my best behavior. And so I often just half-smiled and nodded as an overly-relaxed gesture of thanks.

One guy snapped me out of my stupor: “You’re an asshole.”

“What?!”

“I just paid you some major compliments, and all you can do is nod your head and look at me with pity?”

Wow. I’d not realized I was coming across that way. It definitely wasn’t intentional. Between that experience and David’s comments, I am realizing that there is a catch-22 going on here. Without compliments I have no external basis for feedback. But compliments individually are becoming more like white noise, especially the ones that seem like empty flattery. Sincere compliments I am still able to absorb some, but as awkward as it might sound, I’d really like it if people would talk TO me instead of AT me.

Some people, who will pointedly refuse to empathize with this “problem,” will say, “You get compliments at all. Stop complaining. There are people who get too few or none.” Yes. This is true, except I’m not complaining or bemoaning. I’m simply recognizing a side effect of this career (and I think all jobs jade us in ways particular to themselves): I have been suckled on compliments/flattery for so long that most of them fall flat. If a stranger forgoes introducing himself, jumps right to flirtation and flattery, and drops compliments overly easily… well… I’ve (without intending it) started giving them the priority I would give anyone at work who wants to talk but doesn’t commit to getting a dance/VIP: I smile, nod, and move quickly to other thoughts.

As much as I have enjoyed adult entertainment, it really can manifest some fucked up psychology.

Devon,

What was it like when you first danced naked?

- C

Hello  C!

Well, there are different firsts. When I first danced in any state of undress at all (back in those innocent beginning days – HA!), I was standing backstage in a thong on the verge of throwing up. I heard them call my name, and for about three seconds I just stood there (remember: at that time I was still struggling with anorexia), fearing that people would boo, hiss, laugh, etc. After another short breath, I stepped out onto the stage, and got dizzy for about half a moment. But then it passed as I started moving: I fell into performance mode. And then it was fine.

Fast forward to Swinging Richards: That was my first experience with total nudity. Again, I was scared. But not to be naked. It was because the other dancers were so intimidating, not to mention that the manager is gruff. But again, I went into performance mode, and the cold sweat on my palms stopped distracting me. It was liberating, actually.

The next first was Secrets. Not only are you nude there, but you have to maintain an erection. I really had zero butterflies. By that point it was no longer a point of anxiety. Actually, I enjoy dancing at Secrets more than Swinging Richards. There’s something oddly satisfying about being able to play with yourself in front of people (which is absolutely not allowed on stage at Richards, at least not once your undies come off). By the end of the night I can’t stand touching my penis anymore. It’s numb.

Anyway, once you get past the initial trepidation, nudity is natural and has a healing effect (at least for me). Being completely “vulnerable” forces you to really know yourself (or to completely retreat behind walls… it’s a rather 50-50 chance you take). Beyond that, the only complaints I have about dancing nude at this point is when the damned clubs crank the A/C. It gets COLD!

One of the reasons I wanted to wait to respond to the question posed on March 17, 2009′s entry concerning race is because I wanted to view the situation in a club outside of the South. Before I continue, I would like to add that I welcome comments and constructive discussions here; however, if I do say something that is insensitive or irresponsible, I invite anyone to point it out.

To paraphrase a concept articulated by Obama during his campaign: We can’t talk about race until we talk about race.

In the the Carolinas and Georgia, where most of my experience in clubs has occurred, there is a residual tendency to treat Black men as un-/non-/anti-sexual Others who are tolerated for “diversity’s” sake. I do not notice this overtly generalized and dismissive treatment towards Latinos, nor towards Asians; however, it does seem that White dancers with red/orange hair and fair skin fill a niche as equally narrow as Blacks seem to do.

I am sensitive about race and other parameters for identity, but I am not afraid of discussing them in simple terms.

So, as an experiment, when the dancers at Secrets in Washington, D.C. asked me last night what it’s like at Swinging Richards in Atlanta, GA and PT1109 in Columbia, SC, I said candidly, “You can do well, depending on the night. I’ve noticed that Black dancers struggle there, even if they work three times harder. That’s not the case for Latinos and Asians. Although overt racism in the traditional Southern mode is mostly gone, Black men are still mostly invisible as sexual entities to gay white men where I live.”

I started this conversation specifically because there was a Black dancer in the room, and I wanted to see what his response would be, in terms of being in D.C. (which for some reason people presume isn’t connected culturally to the South just because there are some embassies there and a few people who can read and write in French).

This was his response: “He’s right. White dudes in the club normally look past me. I do well at private parties where I have been booked specifically.”

“Why is that?” one of the White dancers asked.

“Well,” the Black dancer said, “look at magazines. What do you see?”

“White faces,” I replied. “There still aren’t anywhere near enough non-White models representing beauty. We are taught what is beautiful by what is implied, not simply by what is said.”

“For a long time I made most of my money off women,” the Black dancer added.

“Women don’t tip,” another dancer immediately chimed in.

“Yeah, they do,” the Black dancer shot back. “That was my whole career for years. But it’s not just the South – Black dudes don’t usually do well in New York City either.”

“It seems to me,” I said, “that women are often more sexually adventurous in their tastes, and that men often define their preferences more rigidly. And,” I added, just so that the Black dancer wouldn’t think that Devon “White Boy” Hunter has it made in the shade, “it’s not enough to be White. I’m completely invisible next to Brad. He’s the default setting for gay white male desire.”

“Yeah,” one of the Latino dancers added thoughtfully. “He’s blond haired, blue eyed, fair skin, perfect complexion, and built like a Greek god.”

“Mhm,” I added. “I’ll never be tall. White isn’t good enough: I’m short. I’m not hating on Brad: He’s perfect. He really is exquisite. But next to him, I might as well be Black.” (To which the Black dancer nodded in agreement and understanding.)

This is such a complicated, convoluted conversation in American culture. On the one hand I felt as if my thoughts had mostly been confirmed by this dialogue; however, there was the nagging part about Black guys not doing well in New York City. If what he says is true, then racism isn’t a Southern tradition (as so many presumptuous Yankees like to assume), but an American tradition (which definitely doesn’t make it any less awful just because racism ain’t a Suthren thang).

So, to more pointedly address the question of what my experience has been, in terms of interpreting how race affects gay male entertainers: White is the default preference for the manufacturer’s setting; Latino, Asian, Indian, and Native American are all exotic enough to be sexually alluring, despite their ethnic features; and Black is invisible. What I have seen is that White and Latino entertainers make the most money, that Asian dancers are often watched with some degree of skepticism at first, and that Black dancers (when they aren’t discouraged) are forced to work far too hard. And yet all of this can change, depending on issues surrounding personal style, attitude, stature, body type, and exotic features (e.g. an Asian dancer with blue eyes). And yet those individual nuances are lost if a patron completely marks the Black body in his mind only enough to avoid walking into ”it” like any chair.

I personally feel that there is a specific gap in the training of gay desire. There are simply not enough Afro-centric (or other minorities’) faces in the “All-American” homoerotic publications. People want what they see: So long as Black men aren’t held up as objects of beauty unto themselves on par with men of other races, Black entertainers will be relegated to Blacksploitative sexual imagery. I have met very few Black male adult entertainers who did not actively seek to align themselves with the clichés perpetrated by MTV and BET. What’s worse, the few Black dancers I’ve known who weren’t “ghetto” made even less money than their “hard” counterparts.

Is there not a space or two in one of Abercrombie’s group-shots of 13 nubile honkies for a little more realistic portrayal of our cultural landscape? What’s even more problematic is that I often sense that Black men who aren’t thugs are even more displaced outside of gay desire than their bruiser counterparts. Where do Black men in general (and non-Gangsta Black men specifically) fit within the framework of gay masturbation material?

Hear, hear for equal opportunity exploitation!