The Piano Movers...and my thoughts.

This is basically one long fag joke. I can remember seeing this back in the ‘70s. The flamboyant antiques collector had expensive but ostentatious taste, and everything from the way he dressed to his mannerisms suggested he was different. This is how gay men were often depicted back then. Of course I don’t think there’s anything wrong with being flamboyant or different, and I realize that there is some truth to this stereotype--many gay men are noticeably different--but we’re not all alike, and the collector was being held up to ridicule. He wasn’t to be taken seriously, and because he was “fruity” that meant it was okay to jam a piano in his front door and leave him stranded.

I really didn’t mind the collector, but I wondered how exactly I could make my way in the world if being gay meant you had to be an antiques collector, or a hairstylist, or a nurse. The options seemed limited, and I wasn’t sure if I was cut out for any of them. And I didn’t like the idea of living my life as the butt of jokes. I didn’t like the idea of people thinking it was okay to be cruel to me.

Seeing this show when I was eleven or twelve left me with a funny feeling. On the one hand, it was one of the few times I caught a glimpse of someone who might be like me. It was always a great relief to see any character who might be gay. I felt a little less alone when I saw a character who might be gay. But even in his luxury apartment, the collector was subject to overt and hostile bigotry. It gave me the impression that the world was unforgiving and unwelcoming of people like me, and I wasn’t sure I was up to facing it.