I won’t dignify the dude or his alias by printing it in Partyline, but some hip-hop scenester posted up a gossip blog this week and took it upon himself to launch on certain local music critics: “Why do the peeps who write about St. Louis hip-hop in the Post or American seem gay?”
Okay.
First of all, if some knucklehead with a laptop wants to call attention to himself by whispering about the people who write about local hip-hop, it’s a sign that our scene is blowing up. This is becoming more and more of an industry town now. A little fishbowl.
Two. Dude. Check yourself. Go back to the schoolyard. The schoolkids all cry, “It takes one to know one!” Think about it.
Three. Once you’ve been back to the schoolyard for a second, grow up. Maybe all the macho posing that makes male rappers such a hassle to look at half the time has infected your IQ. Grown folks know calling someone “gay” is a weak attempt at a dis.
If you think calling someone “gay” is an insult, you’re probably disgusted (or secretly, shamefully aroused!) by the thought of gay sex. Well, then let Delores Shante help shed you of your ignorance.
Think of every couple you know. The thought of almost all of them in the bed is disgusting for one reason or another. Think about it. Admit it. Maybe that’s why Kirk Franklin and all y’all go in for that porn stuff. Most of us aren’t really ready for prime time in that category. So if the thought of two men in bed sounds icky to you, that’s no different than the thought of almost every straight couple in the bed.
So get over the fascination with what folks do between the sheets. Get over the whole gay thing. Get over worrying about who is or isn’t gay.