My guy Arceneaux does not do victim. He does not do sad or pitiful or survivor or any of those tropes. It is easy when I am with him to rest into his confident possession of self and public space. To forget. It is easy to be the straight girl letting the safety of gay masculinity protect me from the dangers of predatory, violent, patriarchy. It is nice to let down my guard in the club. To know my “date” expects nothing at the end of the night.

But it is all a façade, a bubble of unreality. In reality, both he and I are under threat by the violent masculine norms. Those that would police the one right way to be a woman are those that would enforce the only right way to be a man. Notice how frequently prior cases of domestic violence are correlated with acts of gun violence beyond the home, including in this case.



If he will have me, when the sadness lifts and it is time to dance again, I will return to dance with Michael in the spaces he calls home. But I will go more reverently, more carefully, and this time without assuming that anyone owes me a safety that they themselves cannot enjoy. Because gay public space cannot be my safe space until all public space is safe for those who are gay.