The fear and loathing of gay men is called homophobia. The New Joy of Gay Sex by Dr. Charles Silverstein and Felice Picano gives us three theories why this fear exists:
The first is that our society is repressed and that homophobia is only one aspect of a more general fear of sexuality. In short, because gay men seem to find their partners so easily by cruising in meat markets that range from the Internet to the mall, we should fear them.
The second theory comes from your dear, dirty old man, Dr. Sigmund Freud, who said that we are all bisexual. Thus, we swing both ways; we can plug ourselves into an AC or a DC socket and we will be electrified with a sexual charge. And where does the homophobe come into this? Well, he is the one who has denied his latent homosexuality. He has neither repressed nor accepted this oh-so-natural state. And instead of hating himself, the blaze of his hatred is directed at the "out" gay man. In short, projection.
The third theory is also the newest. It says that homophobia crops up in a society with a strict distinction between male and female roles. Positions of power and high status are assigned to men; lower status is given to women. Gay people are hated because they challenge this distinction. In short, they throw mud at the otherwise clear-cut, pure distinctions between the sexes and the roles they play. A gay man who is cute, rich and bright is seen as a traitor to the cause of masculinity. Why throw away all these qualities and embrace the inferior status of a woman?
Now let’s see if these jibe with my 2,000 years of experience as a gay man. Let’s make a catalogue of why homophobia exists.
One reason, I think, is pure, simple, unadulterated envy. Some of the brightest students I have met in the last 20 years of being a teacher are gay. Most of their male classmates are in awe of them, at the arc of their intelligence like a comet blazing in the sky. A few, however, snigger or make inaudible snide remarks, their eyes glazed over with inggit.
Another reason is that they’re in the closet. Some of the most homophobic people I know are still in the coffin, er, the closet. Afraid to see mirror images of themselves among the gay men they meet, they throw the rocks of homophobia at these mirrors, to break them. They think that being anti-gay in word and deed will deflect imputations of gayness directed at them. But the effect of this is really like that of a boomerang: Why would a straight man bully or pick on a gay man in this day and age? Only a gay man deep in despair over the darkness of his closet would do that.
A third would be macho s__t. Some straight guys – especially those with IQs below sea level – think it’s cool to pick on gay men. They think that other people won’t care anyway if they bully, especially the gay man who looks stereotypical – flame-haired and limp-wristed, with a lisp to boot. And they can’t believe that the guy in that dark, dapper suit leading a multinational company into earning its next billion, looking like an angel with the body of a hunk, is also a gay man.
And here comes the irony. Society still thinks that gayness connotes a lack in one’s masculinity when history itself is full of gay (or bisexual) military leaders. Julius Caesar, Alexander the Great, General Gordon of Khartoum, and Lord Kitchener all had male lovers. They could match all the other straight military leaders in history in terms of leadership savvy, battle strategies – why, even in brutality, if need be.
Another streak of irony is also found in gay men who are homophobic. This is called internalized homophobia. This gay man hates himself because he feels there is something lacking in him as a man. He can have sex in a dark theater, a back room in a gay bar, or even a park in central Makati at night. He admires the masculinity of straight men – the good-looking men who are unself-conscious and cool about their looks. But they will never be able to establish an intimate relationship, since it mirrors his hatred for himself. This situation is shown most vividly in Brokeback Mountain. Although set in America in the 1960s, the realities it shows – about the love that dares to speak its name – still find painful echoes in the Philippines of the 21st century.