Mingcheng Song

A deep-rooted hatred toward the self that's constantly at odds with societal expectations--is it not the genesis of every gay villain ever? The inner conflict results in a) excruciating sessions of repressive self therapy with fragile breakpoints; b)  an unscratchable itch that over time turns into an open sore; c)  a terminal fear of seeing one's own reflection and the subsequent oath to distance, vandalize if not shatter all the mirrors.

"David had no excuse", I say, casting judgment on the protagonist--and paradoxically, distancing myself from what I know to be an insidious part of my existence as well, not entirely dissimilar to the way David distanced himself from "les folles",  the "fairies"--any display of femininity--faggotry. By pronouncing my distaste I hope to purge myself of it, as the condition exists in my reality too--a reality which I had hoped would no longer be so consumed by such rhetorics, a reality which I had thought moved onto better, more constructive things already, like, the pursuit of happiness? What was Baldwin thinking when he decided to write about David? A blonde-haired American expatriate in Paris, a protagonist that's utterly banal, faceless, and from time to time traveled through the pages like a ghost?

More often than not, it's a story about the disparities between social class as opposed to desire or love. Surely there are ways to exist outside of the picture David had painted for himself--just look at those who David so intensely despised, which in a weird way had made him an queer anomaly--but he surrendered emotional honesty to a false sense of integrity. David feeling like he couldn't have a future with Giovanni perhaps didn't operate so much on the societal prejudices against homosexuality but rather on Giovanni's unoptimistic prospect as a poor foreigner, coupled with the reality that David wasn't rich or privileged enough to afford a future for them both--he was clear about this (which predicted his lover's impending demise) from the beginning.

Now I'm tired of this in-order-to-avoid-being-forever-condemned-as-an-abomination-he-resorts-to-(emotional)-violence narrative in queer stories. It's just too distressing and I'm not sure what exactly am I suppose to take away from it other than that I'm lucky not having to live their lives. Maybe my wish to return to feel-good love stories isn't entirely innocent either, maybe I see myself in David in more ways that I'm willing to admit.