HAVING FUN. Wayne van der Meide took in Trinidad's underground parties.(Image by Xtra files) 
 
Growing up in a tiny town...
See below
 
Everyone's trying to help
Who We Are / An aunt set him up with a closeted friend

story by Denise Balkissoon / Xtra 

Wayne van der Meide's extended family found out he was gay from another relative.

“I was outed before I went there by an aunt here,” he says. “I think
they really expected me to walk off the plane in pumps and a dress.”

He was going back to Trinidad for a visit with his folks (he was already out to his parents).

Van der Meide is biracial, the son of a Dutch father and an
Indo-Caribbean mother. Born in Winnipeg, he spent much of his
adolescence in his mother’s home country of Trinidad, after his parents decided to move to the tropical island.

“I certainly knew from quite early on that I was gay,” he says. But it
wasn’t until he moved back to Canada around age 18 that he was confident enough to come out — and it wasn’t until five years ago that he interacted with his family in Trinidad as a gay man.

Then a question by a curious uncle “snowballed” and van der Meide found himself in the middle of his family’s first discussion on sexuality.

His aunt set him up with a closeted friend — “he was horrified, he had convinced himself that people didn’t know” — and van der Meide spent much of his vacation roving Trinidad’s underground scene of parties and bars, all of it advertised “purely by word of mouth.”

He sounds happy, and proud, of his family. “They were certainly confused, and they did not get it. But the bottom line was that I was who they remembered me to be, and they were very cool. I’d love to go back again.”

The 28-year-old is working on his masters of law at the University Of British Columbia. He’s finishing up his thesis, an exploration
of what same-sex spousal recognition will mean to those on the margins of the gay community — in his words, “people who are poor, people of colour, and women — and of course, those tend to overlap.”

Van der Meide’s not crazy about the focus Canada’s gay community has put on spousal recognition — a focus he says tries too hard to be
heterosexual, and “forecloses the opportunity of exploring how we as gay people differ from each other.

“Every time I have discussion with someone about spousal recognition being a gay issue, but a poor gay couple then losing
welfare not being a gay issue, I meet opposition. Whenever I try to
introduce race in the mix, that’s a different issue.

“This happens very often, in day-to-day discussions with white gay men.”

“If I’m brown and gay, I have some additional identity, in addition to
being gay,” says van der Meide. “Gay is thrown around as some kind of universal when it’s not.”

Being biracial as well as gay is an identity van der Meide has struggled with in his life.

He says mainstream gay political organizations are still very
white, very male, and very middle class. He says whites in the gay
community need to realize that race isn’t an identity “in addition to” being gay.

“I am consistently and constantly trying to identify that
whiteness,” he says. “I try to articulate [to whites] that they also
have a race. So far they don’t need to recognize that — but they
should.

“I’ve internalized a lot of racism, and coming out only emphasized
that,” he says. “We exoticize white skin highly. I do, I
m honest enough to admit that. Those of us who are attracted to other men of colour are few and far between.”

Van der Meide says other queers of colour need to accept each other, and themselves. This includes him.

“I’m trying to work on my own shit,” he says. “It’s hard.”
Growing up in a tiny town...
Denise Balkissoon

Rick Telfer is a hardcore homo academic.

“Universities are supposed to be generators of knowledge for society,” says Telfer. “They are a place where a new kind of gay and lesbian culture can grow and thrive.”

Telfer should know. He’s finishing his Master’s in sociology at the University Of Western Ontario. Located in London, it has some of Canada’s top homo resources, with an established Faculty For Gay And Lesbian Studies, a Pride Library and even a homo alumni chapter.

And it’s at Western that Telfer found his own courage to come out. Born and raised in the small town of Simcoe, Telfer says he was so sheltered he didn’t know being openly gay was even an option.

“Coming out wasn’t something I even knew about,” he says.

It wasn’t until he began his undergrad at Western six years ago that Telfer discovered there were those who lived their lives openly gay, and that he could do it, too.

“I realized I could control my own destiny.” During his second year at Western, Telfer came out to a close female friend. She, in turn, tipped him off to the city’s gay bars. At age 20, a nervous Telfer opened the door of the now-defunct Lacy’s.

After that, there was no turning back — 24-year-old Telfer says with a laugh that he’ll always have a fondness for the bars. He came out to his parents (“It went from, ‘We will never accept it’ to ‘We don’t accept it but we accept you’ to ‘We accept you’”). And he’s now in his most serious relationship — two years and counting with his police officer boyfriend.

Telfer fell into student politics when his partner suggested he run for a spot on the university senate to spruce up his resume. Telfer gave it a go.

One of his goals was to help get funding for the Faculty For Gay And Lesbian Studies, a fledgling department that just got off the ground in 1997. Telfer says by the time any requests would reach the Senate, they had already been shot down by higher levels of administration.

“Being a gay graduate senator didn’t help anything,” Telfer says. “So I decided to try and make a difference just for students.”

Right now, Telfer is a member of Western’s Society Of Graduate Students. When a colleague couldn’t go, he ended up at the general meeting of the Canadian Federation Of Students last November.

“I was thrilled,” he says. “I thought this was incredible.”

Representing hundreds of thousands, the CFS has, among other things, adamantly protested the Canadian Blood Services’s practice of refusing the blood of gay men.

In short, says Telfer, “it’s not just a student movement, but a social movement. There’s nothing I’d rather be a part of.”

After graduating this June, Telfer will start on his PhD. Hoping to attend either York or McMaster, he’s going to do his thesis on gender and sexual identities in social movements. He also plans to do more work with the CFS.

“Traditionally, there are so many areas that have nothing to say about glbt issues, that have refused to say anything,” he says. “Gay and lesbian [studies] allows for new knowledge, a new point of view.

“You can politicize people if you have a space for them.”
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