On Age

OR Oh God Not This Again

“You’ve done a lot for someone your age.”

The opening line to an interview often can be considered a tone setter, especially when standing in front of folks you have very little experience with. And that quote was the opening line to my IML interview. 

I don’t think I ever really acknowledged this anywhere, but I felt a bit… I don’t know, rubbed the wrong way is a bit too strong for the emotions I was feeling at the time, perhaps only intensified in hindsight by how the rest of the contest would go for me, but enough about that. As I said, an opening question can be telling, and I’ll admit that I wasn’t sure that I really liked what I was being told. Knowing there were at least one (and possibly two) full on IML winners that were close to me in age in the contest’s history, it felt strange to hear that particular aspect of my journey thus far brought up. But perhaps I was simply just getting what I’ve been asking for. 

I never shut up about my age. It’s tiring, I get it, might as well be a character trait at this point, but I don’t even think I need to telegraph it in neon lights for it to be apparent that in most spaces I occupy, in most of the Leather social circles I gravitate towards, I am often the youngest, and I’m not even barely bar-legal anymore. I was the youngest in my IML class, and according to one of the judges, less than 10 percent of this year’s class were in their 20s, so out of 59 contestants, there were fewer than 6 of them (if I’m generous with my math and round up.) The most recent generation of Leatherfolk had sparse representation on that stage. Which doesn’t really make sense, does it? Our community is more accessible than ever, bars and clubs have websites now, the hanky code is a Google search away, a variety of Leather related storefronts (once you get past how expensive gear can get if you’re buying new) offer fast shipping times (unless it’s rubber.) The internet is very much to blame for how I ended up in all of this, and yet, where are the rest of us?

I think it’s too complicated to truly divert onto a tangent about currently, but as some things to chew on, I’m sure a lot of it is economic: cost of living keeps rising while wages stay relatively the same, and I’m sure most wouldn’t want to shill out 600 dollars plus to make their way out to an event or for gear when they have rent, bills, and food to pay for. And truly the only solution, at least for someone in that position, is to do what they can. But whether we like it or not we as a community have to receive, process, and act accordingly. Which brings me to the actual question that was tied to that opening statement, which while I don’t remember the exact words, went a little like this:

“How can our organizations and community better accommodate younger Leatherfolk?”

My answer was simple: “Acknowledge us.”

My elaboration, however, was not.

I remembered coming across someone opining about the ritual of gearing up and going out, and even after all these years of Leather life he still feels the same way. And while my boot treads may not have as much wear I know exactly what he was talking about. But I don’t want to be simply set dressing for another man’s nostalgia, a reminder of their good old days while I have no choice in the fact that mine are right now. I want to be in the thick of it, to revel in the tradition of resourceful hedonism that made our community what it is. I want to belong.

I wouldn’t be surprised if this answer was one of the nails in the coffin that kept me from earning a spot in the top 20 (that and rambling about imposter syndrome and running out of time.) I’ll admit that it’s a cynical view of something I love, but I won’t deny how lonely it feels to be surrounded by somebodies as someone who, by age, by tenure, is, well, not that. And combined with the continuous cycle of generational punching down dressed up in fancy gear, being told about how the Gay Leather Tradition is withering on the vine, stories of places long gone that read like tales of Leather El Dorados, more mythology than memoir, one can feel left behind. I don’t have decades of hot experiences to slightly ease these pains. Because while yes, I’m fully aware that these feelings will never fully go away, even the most feeble of analgesics are still analgesics, even the mildest of relief is still relief. 

I don’t know, I’m just rambling again, aren’t I? Maybe I’ll think of all of this differently when I start putting orthotics in my boots.