Seemingly the worst quality to be found in a gay man is a limp wrist. Well, fuck that – I’m camp and I’m proud, says Glenn Mullen.

It’s a Saturday night on Dublin’s South Great George’s Street, and lots of people are out for a good time. One might be your average Joe; dressed in nothing out-of-the-ordinary, on his way to hear Veda on the decks, ‘passing’ as the straight man he is not. One might be your not-so-average Joe, dressed from head to toe in gaudy colours and faux-leather, with headphones in his ears as he prances along to his favourite Girls Aloud anthem. That not-so-average Joe is me, and ‘Call The Shots’ is the anthem.

It comes as no surprise to most people that I’m gay – in no way do I pass as what I once aspired to be: straight. I am quite camp. I don’t ‘look straight’, I don’t ‘sound straight’, and I don’t ‘act straight’. However, just as there are many camp gay guys like me out there, there are also those of us who partake in a phenomenon known as camp-shaming.

When I came out of the closet at the tender age of 18, I was accepted and often praised for my bravery by former classmates and close friends, but this was on the tacit understanding that I didn’t act “too gay”. I don’t exactly know what acting too gay is, but times have changed and apparently I now do. The younger, less effeminate, more ignorant version of me often took comfort in these exchanges. I was content dressing, behaving, and even dancing like somebody I was not. Since then I have discovered confidence and an understanding of who I am as a person; along with a penchant for mesh fabric.

Who I Naturally Am

Looking back, I now understand exactly what it was that gave me that false sense of comfort in those cringeworthy moments, when I sought to live up to a version of myself other people wanted me to be. Two words, folks: internalised homophobia. I spent years badly acting the role of a straight boy so I could fit in, but in the end the real me won out. Camp might be a gay stereotype, but it’s also part of my personality, and now I wouldn’t change that for anyone. Masculine or not, I shouldn’t feel a sense of shame because of who I naturally am.

The LGBT community is supposed to be all about self-acceptance, but still it’s full of camp shame. Apart from naïve baby-gays like my past self, one need only look to dating or hook-up apps to witness this. We’ve all seen the words “no femmes” in a Grindr profile or ten, because certainly the worst quality to be found in a gay man is a limp wrist. Then there are those dreaded descriptors “Masc-for-Masc” and “straight-acting”. I’ve said it a thousand times and I will say it again; if you are having sex with men then “straight-acting” you are not. Of course, everything is magnified on social media, and what people appear to be on their Facebook or Tinder profiles isn’t always the reality, but surely the very definition of engaging in sex with other men automatically ejects you from the straight-acting bracket?

Early this year, Looking star, the British actor, Russell Tovey (who just happens to be gay) said in a Guardian interview: “I feel like I could have been really effeminate if I hadn’t gone to the school I went to, where I felt like I had to toughen up. If I’d have been able to relax, prance around, sing in the street, I might be a different person now. I thank my dad for that, for not allowing me to go down that path.”

He added that his tough education had probably given him “the unique quality that people think I have”.

Russell Tovey’s Unique Quality

Tovey’s unique quality is that he can pass as straight and therefore play gay or straight parts. He’s one of a growing number of male actors who are breaking down the typecasting barriers that once threatened any star who dared to come out of the closet. But straight-acting on screen is one thing; straight-acting, even though you are actually out of the closet in your real life, is quite another.

When did being gay become about being trapped in masculinity? And why are more and more gay men afraid of being seen as camp? We live in a country where gay relationships have been endorsed by the voting population, where equal same-sex marriage is a reality, so why do we still feel such terrible shame? It’s not like we’re a new community; we’ve been evolving and growing into ourselves for a long time. So why are we rejecting this essential part of who many of us are? Why do we hate effeminacy? When members of our own community are perpetuating this idea that we should act or be a certain way in order to be accepted, it becomes reductive. (Bonus points if you get the Madonna reference there.)

One well-known person who has spoken out against camp shaming is Graham Norton. In his problem page in The Telegraph, the chat show host eloquently noted that “in a way it’s about self-loathing, the dislike of campness. Because actually the people who dislike it are normally quite camp. And it’s sad that every gay personal ad is all ‘straight-acting’. That’s a weird thing for a sexuality to be based on – something else.”

I Don’t Give A Rainbow-coloured fuck

In recent years I have come to the point where I don’t give a rainbow-coloured fuck how others look at me. I don’t want to be a Russell Tovey; I’m happy being a Graham Norton. From our social network and dating apps, to our bars, to the media aimed at us, camp shaming is rife, and it needs to be addressed. It goes against everything that we as a community are renowned and respected for – our courage to be out and proud.

I spent 18 years trying to be someone else, and often crying myself to sleep because of it. If wearing day-glo short-shorts, booty-dropping at every given opportunity, and being TOO GAY makes me happy, then that’s exactly what I’m going to do. The LGBT community might be sick with camp shame, but I’m not.

Glenn’s column appears in the annual Youth Issue of GCN, which is currently on the shelves. To read the full issue, click here. Download the GCN app and get the mag free every month on your iOS device!