Paedophilia advocate. Homosexual prostitute. And, in my eyes: Sex object.
I've had a crush on Gerald Hannon since I was a teenager. When I first moved to Toronto in 1988, I used to cruise him in a desperate, passionately adolescent way. To no avail. I guess I wasn't his type. Too young, maybe.
I eventually got bitter because I thought that he was ignoring me. But he probably didn't even notice me--Hannon was a man on the move. My glimpses of him--walking briskly down Church St, riding his bicycle up Yonge--were fleeting. But right now, images of Gerald Hannon are in my face every day, through no fault of his own.
His detractors in the daily press are behaving in ways that are predictable. And I suppose his defenders are, too. They are taking the route most likely to succeed--arguments about the right to freedom of expression in a democratic society.
But why is everyone so afraid to have what Hannon has passionately argued for: An open, honest discussion of childhood sexuality and the pros and cons of relationships betwen adults and young people? Because it could fundamentally alter the way we look at social relations. For the better.
Growing up in Niagara Falls, a hell-hole of rightwing moralism, was a wrenching experience for me as a young, isolated queer in the late 1970s and early 1980s. From my earliest self-identification as a homo, at 12 years old or so, I longed to know what it would be like to have a boyfriend, to be wi th another man, socially and sexually.
I'd later learn of more aggressive boys who'd actively looked for (and found) older men for sex. I lacked the drive and self-esteem to seek it out myself--getting beaten up a lot by your peers can do that to you.
When I finally did have sex with another man, at age 17, it was with a guy more than twice my age. Tony was careful, patient and responsible. Not only did he help me take my first awkward steps toward a sexual identity: He gave me a lot of advice based on experiences from his life, and told me some thing that no one else had yet--that I should feel proud of myself.
This intergenerational encounter was one of the most important experiences of my life--and I wish it had happened five years earlier. Maybe then I might not have felt so utterly, terribly alone when I was growing up.
When sex involves young people, the issue of consent becomes a slippery, difficult one--but consent doesn't cease to exist. And like adults-only sex, intergenerational sex can involve deep pain and loss, exquisite pleasure, increased self-awareness and many other things.
There are some difficult questions here, especially as the ages being discussed get younger. Can we really leave it to the police, the mass media and the mainstream of society to definte these issues for us? You don't have to be a radical activist to know that these institutions don't act in our in terests and have betrayed us many times. As a community, we can't allow ourselves to be silenced--we need to flesh these issues out on our own, freely and openly.
But back to my youthful lust for Gerald Hannon. In the face of the current smear campaign against him, I've wondered how I could best offer my support. With the Toronto Sun's "expose" of his sideline business, the answer becomes clear: I will purchase his sexual services. If these media and univers ity shenanigans continue much longer, he'll need the extra cash. And if his sexual prowess is as refined as his intelligence and integrity, I know it'll be money well-spent.