Ask Jake
Photo by Sharon McCutcheon on Unsplash
Never judge a book by its cover.
After college, I moved cross country to California. I learned many valuable aspects about professional writing and communications during my tenure.
Shakespeare. Communication Theory. Chicago vs. AP. Never in a million years did I guess that horoscopes was the “go to.”
“Goddess Beth Knows All” landed my first writing gig, post-college, for a local LGBT magazine. I will never forget the editor’s incessant blinking upon hearing the column’s title.
“Uh-huh…well, we’re just gonna call them horoscopes, okay?” he tried to say as professionally as possible.
“Good call,” I responded.
This was long before Modern Family, Prop 8, and the United States vs. Windsor. A.k.a. the case that overturned the Defense of Marriage Act (DOMA).
Unlike a general acceptance now, there was still a stigma towards the gay community. Homosexuals never phased me. I attribute my acceptance to one of my father’s best friends, Uncle Al.
Uncle Al was kind and openly gay. He was not flamboyant or stereotypical. He enjoyed Star Trek, chess, and restoration projects. He loved to travel and his favorite destination was Paris. Just a regular man whose sexual preference was men.
He never concerned himself with what others thought. I suppose being gay in the 60s, 70s, 80s, and 90s built his hater tolerance. Uncle Al taught me a lot about what it is to be yourself. I adored him.
I volunteered to represent the magazine during Gay Pride to show my support for the LGBT community. Talk about an education. I never realized how black and white my existence was until I saw the rainbow!
After an afternoon of assless chaps, banana hammocks, and leather…SOOOOO much leather…I politely excused myself. Even my editor was impressed by my stamina.
“It’s even a little too much for me!” he laughed.
The magazine scheduled a launch party at a gay club. Like any other opportunity, I represented my column and connected with readers.
LGBT dance parties are the intersection of lights, sequins, and glitter. Never realized how little I danced until that night. I networked with fans when asked a question I hoped to avoid.
“Are you gay?”
The question itself didn’t bother me. There are far worse things in this world to be called than a lesbian. While I was only a mere ally, I dragged my feet because LGBT rights were being fought. Gay voices needed to be heard, especially in a gay publication.
“What woman hasn’t had experiences?” I shrugged as the fantasy disappeared from her eyes. “You’re still gonna read though, right? Ma’am? Dammit.”
I sighed. Sadly, that wasn’t the first time I lost a “fan” due to that question. Sidebar!
My friend Stephanie and I grabbed lunch at the food court. She sat down, while I waited in line. A hefty man stood next to me. I acknowledged him and focused back on the menu.
“Do you like chicks or dicks?” he asked.
“Excuse me?” I winced.
“Me and my girl are looking to ah…expand our horizons.”
A moment ago, I was debating lunch. Suddenly, I’m at the center of a Double Stuf Oreo. It was my first threesome proposition. I was so thrown that I needed a referee to “call the play.”
He followed me to Stephanie, who looked rather curious.
“Can you ask that question one more time?”
“Do you like CHICKS OR DICKS?” he said with oomph. Stephanie coughed up her food.
“What do I say here?” I asked for advice.
“I’m not answering that,” Stephanie caught her breath.
The man didn’t even offer to buy me lunch, for goodness sake.
“I’m not the woman for you…and you.” He and his girl walked off in a huff. Can’t win them all.
Photo by Denise Johnson on Unsplash
After the question debacle, I focused on gay men. But, to my surprise, I connected with the only straight man there.
He was a fellow magazine contributor. Good looking guy. Articulate. Mysterious. Something was intriguing about him. I enjoyed our conversation, so I properly introduced myself.
“Jake,” he responded.
“Jake…” I paused. “As in…“Ask Jake?”
He nodded.
Apart from checking my print work, I never read the magazine. However, “Ask Jake” was frequently printed next to the horoscopes. “Ask Jake,” was the transgender column.
This was long before celebrities like Chaz Bono, Lavern Cox, and Caitlyn Jenner took the limelight. At that time, I only knew “LBG,” but had yet to knowingly encounter a “T”.
My understanding of the transgender journey was limited. I couldn’t imagine what he went through. Let alone be so well adjusted that he publicly published weekly stories on the topic. My eyes widened and my heart pounded as if I encountered a rock star.
“OMG! OMG! OMG! I have SOOOOO MANY questions. Do you mind?” I asked.
“I’m used to it. What do you want to know?”
Jake welcomed my intrusion like the trailblazer he was. I bombarded this poor man about everything. Top surgery. Hormone therapy. Sexual preference. You name it—I asked. Interestingly enough, Jake mistook my inquisitiveness as flirting.
“I’d love to take you out sometime,” he said as he handed me his card.
“Oh! Um…” I blushed. I accepted his card, but not his invitation.
“Well, you’re very beautiful. If you change your mind, you have my number.”
Jake smiled and excused himself to address fans, eagerly waiting for his attention. The experience fueled my appreciation and advocacy for the LGBT community. Jake unabashedly answered all my questions with poise and grace. He was comfortable in his skin and a wonderful first-time teacher. Knowledgeable. Patient. Understanding. Just like my Uncle Al.
In loving memory of Alan Gagnon, 1951-2008.
“All young people, regardless of sexual orientation or identity, deserve a safe and supportive environment in which to achieve their full potential.”
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