When I first viewed the photo, the portrait of the two young men struck me. Initially, I could not quite place why, but then it dawned on me. In the summer of 1980, I was a reservist in the Canadian Army. I served in the 30th Field Artillery Regiment based in Ottawa. It was the summer following my graduation from high school and before my enrollment at Queen’s University in Kingston. I went to Canadian Forces Base Petawawa to work as a driver in a transportation company through July and August. I worked with young men from other regiments who were posted there, too–we were in our late teens and early twenties.
I recall when I was in university in 1982. I enrolled in a film studies class, and one of the films we watched was Pagan Rhapsody. There is a scene in the film where two men play a sex scene. Though the scene was as vanilla as possible–there was kissing and a little friendly groping (nothing graphic)–the student audience’s vocal expressions of disgust were notable. In 2024, male homosexuality was generally accepted as a natural expression of human intimacy and treated with sensitivity in film and television. Netflix series such as Young Royals and Heartstopper feature a gay romance and intimacy between high school boys in a way that leaves something to the viewers’ imagination. Both series are immensely popular with younger viewers. Things have changed since the screening of Pagan Rhapsody in 1982. Still, when it comes to public perceptions of intimacy between gay men, there are a lot of people who have an unsavoury fixation on what they imagine goes on when two men are intimate. I get expressions of disgust in the comments on blog posts I write on gay rights advocacy, where people say things like, “There’s nothing more disgusting than two men fucking each other in the ass,” and “Cocksucking is not a men’s issue.” I mean, that is beyond the pale.
I am watching a Spanish Netflix series called Merli: Sapere Aude, and it is excellent. It is a dramedy, and the plot revolves around the protagonist, a young man named Pol Rubio, played by a fine young Spanish actor named Carlos Cuevas. Pol is a young man in his first year of studies in philosophy at a university in Barcelona. He has a bisexual orientation, and though he favours men, he does have dalliances with women occasionally. Pol is an anti-hero; while he generally strives to do good, he betrays a friend and his father when it serves his interests. He learns in the first episode of season two that he is HIV+. Pol is devastated by the news, despite the doctor’s assurance that the virus can be managed with treatment. He starts the regimen of taking the medication and tries to carry on. In a subsequent episode, Pol converses with a former co-worker who likely exposed him to the virus. His friend lost his job when the employer learned he was HIV+. The friend reminds Pol that people will feel sorry for you when you get cancer, but when you get HIV, you are viewed as a “dirty faggot.” Pol also converses with his employer, a mature gay man living with HIV. The employer lived through the AIDS crisis of the 1980s and 1990s and saw many gay men succumb to the disease. He recounted an incident where a friend was beaten to death for being queer. I bristled when I heard “queer” used to refer to a gay man, but I realized in the context of the anecdote that it was the attackers who called him a queer as they beat him to death. Queer is a slur, the last thing many gay men heard as they were beaten to death by gangs of thugs.
In the summer of 1987, I lived with my boyfriend Fabio in a two-bedroom apartment in Kingston, Ontario. We met as students at Queen’s University and secretly carried on our love affair before moving in together. We became boyfriends during the burgeoning AIDS crisis. One evening, we sat in bed and watched a panel discussion held by one of the American News Networks–I cannot remember which one. What struck me was the inflammatory opening remark made by a conservative Congressman, whose name I do not remember, who asserted that “perversion and promiscuity” were to blame for the AIDS crisis. That sentiment was shared through the 1980s. I remember the stand-up comic Sam Kinison, who screamed in one of his routines that AIDS became an epidemic “because a few fags fuck some monkeys; they got tired of their own assholes.” Jerry Falwell claimed it was God’s judgement on homosexuals and blamed the spread of the disease into the innocent heterosexual population on bisexual men. Yes, AIDS was seen as a gay plague. Fabio and I, like countless gay men in the 1980s, were concerned. There was uncertainty about how easily the virus was transmitted. Before the dawn of the AIDS crisis, our biggest concern as students in the 1980s was the risk of an unwanted pregnancy or getting herpes.
Geoffrey & Mika 