A Gay Guy Knows When a Simple Look is Hiding Hate

Sometimes, all it takes is a look — a sideways glance, a roll of the eyes, or a slow turn of the head. A person may even literally look down their nose at you.

They don’t voice their opinions, but they communicate their disapproval just as clearly.

The nail salon

I started wearing makeup occasionally when going out — nothing too obvious or gaudy. I simply want to even out my skin tone, make my eyes pop, that sort of thing. I don’t wear too much color on my face; I want it to look natural.

I’ve never considered myself good-looking. My parents never told me I was handsome, of course, because “vanity is a sin.” Growing up, nobody ever told me I was, so why would I believe it myself?

At any rate, I do what I can to look good with what I have. All I can truly change is my clothing and hairstyle. I feel like I have good hair, and I can always work with that. As part of my acceptance of being gay, I’ve reached the point where I’m brave enough to wear makeup in many public places without caring if strangers know I’m wearing it.

Do I wear it when I’m at my parents’ house? Absolutely not! I don’t want to get into that debate. It was bad enough listening to their comments when I dyed my hair or had my ears pierced. I probably make it sound worse than it is. Usually, after the initial comments, they get used to it.

My friend Amy [name changed] invited me to get a manicure with her at a nail salon, and I’d never had one. She’d asked me before, but I always declined. This time, I decided to do it. I wasn’t going to put color on them, though. I wasn’t quite ready for that.

We went in and waited in chairs at the front of the salon. One of the owners came over to ask the usual questions about whether we wanted regular polish or gel and what color. I decided on a clear coat (because it’s less noticeable) of regular polish (because it’s cheaper and doesn’t last as long as gel).

I was kind of excited about having it done, so I may have been acting “gayer” than usual. I was probably a little chatty, and as I looked around the room, I got smiles from several women. To me, these smiles said, “Yeah, I know you’re gay, and I think it’s fun that you’re getting a manicure.” I felt comfortable and like I was supposed to be there. However…

An elderly gentleman in a military veteran’s cap sat in a chair against the adjacent wall a short distance from me. He was waiting for his wife, who was getting a manicure or pedicure. I briefly made eye contact with him. He had a “less than pleased” look as he glared at me, pointedly turned away, and shook his head.

I know we shouldn’t assume things. No one knows what goes on in someone else’s mind. People behave for various reasons that may have nothing to do with us. However…

I know what that look was about. And you do, too. To me, his look said,

“I don’t approve of you being here.”

“Men shouldn’t have their nails painted.”

“You should be ashamed of what you are.”

The Arch

I went to St. Louis Pridefest in June. I was wearing makeup (of course), very short shorts (naturally), and a black mesh top that came down just below my chest (because that’s what people wear).

My friend and I wanted to go to the Arch, but we had limited time. Pridefest didn’t start until noon, and because of the locations of our hotel, the Arch, and Pridefest, it made sense to walk to the Arch and then directly to the fairgrounds afterward.

I felt my mesh top was too revealing for a museum-type atmosphere, so I wore a white T-shirt over it, which I would take off when we got to Pridefest. The black mesh shirt would, of course, show through my white T-shirt, but I wasn’t too concerned about that.

While in the museum under the Arch, my friend left me to use the restroom while I waited. I saw a guy and his wife or girlfriend standing some distance away. The guy looked me up and down, smirked, and whispered something in his girlfriend’s ear. She then looked at me and smirked.

There was also a young guy at an ice cream shop who did something similar. He looked me up and down, leaned toward a girl at his table, and whispered something. Again, I could be internalizing their actions. We all know what happens when we assume. However…

I don’t think I’m reaching too far to believe the brief exchange between them, the smirks, and the coincidental looks may have had something to do with me.

To me, the whispers said,

“Try and tell me he’s not queer.”

“Could those shorts be any shorter?”

“Is that a guy trying to be a girl or a girl trying to be a guy?”

A closed mind = A small world

The guy at the nail salon didn’t deter me from getting a manicure that day. I didn’t run out of the place crying. I can’t say it didn’t bother me at least a little bit because I still see it clearly in my mind, and I’m obviously writing about it now, several months later.

I can’t help but feel unwanted at times, but the other feeling I get is sympathy. I feel sorry for them — the old guy at the nail salon, the couple at the Arch, and the kid at the ice cream shop. You may say, “What? You feel sorry for them?!”

I feel sorry for them.

Their worlds must be very small. The guy at the salon likely lived his entire life with rigid beliefs about others and how they should live. He doesn’t know anyone like me, and he never will.

What a boring and limited life that must be. The couple at the Arch will never know how much fun it is to go shopping with me. The guy at the ice cream shop will never hear my ice cream joke. They’re definitely missing out.

The bright side is that for every negative comment or look, there are many more positive ones. The other people at the nail salon were very friendly. Going up in the elevator to the top of the Arch, my friend and I had a great conversation with a very nice couple. The girl behind the counter at the ice cream shop complimented me on my nails.

I try to focus on the positive experiences and the people who act like decent human beings. Sometimes, though, when we have negative core beliefs about ourselves, a disparaging look from someone else has a stronger impact. It reinforces what we already believe about who we are.

One of my followers and fellow writers, Nancy Oglesby, commented in my article about the guilt trip. It reminded me of these experiences. She said, “[W]ords aren’t always necessary. A look can instill shame as can silence.”

So true, Nancy. Looks can kill — perhaps not physically, but emotionally and mentally. They can drown a person’s spirit in a sea of self-doubt. Silent disapproval can be loud enough to overpower a small inner voice of confidence. A grumpy face and folded arms can squeeze the life out of our willpower.

You may think you are doing well by biting your tongue while silently judging your fellow human. Guess what? Your body language tells them all they need to know.

Instead of biting your tongue, try opening your mind and not judging in the first place.

*Original version published on Medium

Please click the like button and subscribe for more!

You can also find me on Medium and Substack.