Shan Arora, Contributor
?Featured image courtesy of Tatiana Prisiajny
In a cosmopolitan city such as Toronto where progressive attitudes prevail, everywhere is thought to be a “safe space.” For this reason, many individuals, including scholarly researchers, predict the decline and eventual disappearance of demographic specific communities, such as LGBTQ+ ones, because they are supposedly no longer needed.
My experience, similar to that of others from the LGBTQ+ community, suggests otherwise. Heteronormativity prevails and self-expression of one’s sexual identity is often silenced if it does not conform to traditional heterosexual norms.
“Okay, so her birthday tonight is at Cake,” my friend Garbiella messaged on our WhatsApp group chat.
“Oh, cool,” I nonchalantly responded.
I loved hanging out with Garbiella and Alana. The three of us would always have the wildest times together whenever we go out, whether it be just the three of us or a group of friends. We could probably do anything together and still have a blast.
It was later in the evening, getting closer to the time that we would need to head out to the club. I ventured to my closet, as most people do, to figure out what to wear.
This was not your typical situation of, “I can’t decide what to wear despite owning enough clothes to fill all of the stores in the Eaton Centre.”
No, this was more challenging. This was not an issue of mere preference, where people often struggle with choosing what to wear from a range of options, any of which would be deemed acceptable to society.
This was different.
As someone who has almost exclusively frequented the LGBTQ+ clubs in the Church-Wellesley Village, I instinctively thought of a tank top and shorts – booty shorts, as we call them. However, as my hand reached for the red shorts, I hesitated. Would I feel comfortable wearing this there? Would I be allowed to wear this?
I thought about the possibility of a dress code, as these are the norm for clubs outside the Village. My enthusiasm for going out rapidly declined. I mean, I would obviously still have a great time since I was with Garbiella and Alana. But, here we go again, the prevalence of heteronormative standards of behaviour and identity.
I took my laptop out of sleep mode, opened my browser, and googled Cake. I navigated the club’s website and under the FAQ section, found the dress code. My jaw dropped, but as my friend Jay would say, “Are you really surprised, Shan?”
No, I wasn’t. How could I be? But I was dismayed.
“In terms of dress code, we mainly are focused on the men to make sure the amazing women who attend Cake are catered to properly,” stated Cake’s website.
“Ugh,” I thought to myself, disgusted at the unapologetically staunch heteronormative standard assuming that my goal would be to impress women.
The dress code continued, “We do not accept baseball hats, men in baggy jeans and/or jeans hanging too low, as well as wife beaters or tank tops and no excessive jewellery necklaces hanging over your shirt.”
Okay, listen. I totally understand the purpose of this. This is not an LGBTQ+ club. This club imposes a dress code to ensure that women are not deterred from attending the club by the presence of poorly dressed men with an off-putting demeanour.
Yeah, I get it. Really, I do. But this is not my point.
Was I going to dress in some baggy shorts with a baggy basketball tank? God, no, I don’t even own those.
Let’s pause here. It’s important to keep in mind the purpose of the dress code and how its restriction on tank tops is overboard. Would my desired attire put women off?
No. Just no.
My female friends would absolutely love a non-straight boy with them at the club.We all know this.
I call the club to clarify. I mean, clearly the club is trying to avoid the whole baggy situation and want men to dress well.
A guy picks up the phone and I inquire, “What’s the dress code for Cake?”
He answers with what’s on the website, but also mentions a prohibition on shorts for guys.
I ask, “So, I can’t wear shorts and a tank?”
“No.”
I pause. You know when you want to ask something and you know how to phrase it perfectly to elicit the precise information you need, but think it’s awkward to ask? I wanted to ask, “So, if I’m gay, and I’m wearing a tight form-fitted tank and shorts, which are not at all baggy, is that okay?”
I mean, that would cover all my bases and so no one could say, “Oh, well, he must have not understood what you meant. He probably thought you wanted to wear a baggy athletic tank and shorts.”
But as my mother taught me, when you have something to say, say it and say it with confidence. How else will you find out what you need to know?
So I said exactly those words: “So, if I’m gay, and I’m wearing a tight form-fitted tank and shorts, which are not at all baggy, is that okay?”
“No, sorry.”
Could there be any mistake here?
No. I got my answer. Now, let’s reiterate, clubs need to attract women to be profitable and successful. Women are deterred by off-putting men and dress codes seek to remedy this.
Essentially, my desired attire would resemble something any of my female friends would wear, yet I cannot wear it because I am male and I am supposed to “cater” to women. Furthermore, my desired attire does not even fall within the ambit of what is off-putting to women. If anything, it would be welcomed by women as a signal of my non-heterosexuality. Cue the “Gay BFF” cheers by women.
So, what exactly is the issue? Who exactly is having an issue with my attire?
The reasoning of the club is falsified by my analysis, so now what? Does the prohibition remain “just because?” The prohibition could be on baggy clothes to achieve the club’s alleged purpose, but it doesn’t do that.
In effect, the dress code perpetuates heteronormativity. That is, it compels non-heterosexual individuals to conform to codes of conduct that are rooted in what it means to be heterosexual. The club’s dress code oppresses and marginalizes forms of sexuality and gender that do not reflect the majority group (heterosexuals) and prevents self-expression that does not meet the heterosexual norm.
For me to go out dancing with my friends in a club outside the designated Church-Wellesley Village, I must “look straight” and “act straight.” I must dress as if I am straight. For people who are heterosexual, they have coherence between their behaviour (how they dress and act) and their cognition (their sexual identity).
I am not allowed to have that. In many situations outside the Village, I must suppress expression of my identity and have dissonance between my behaviour and my cognition. I want to preemptively address the argument that heterosexual men are also being forced to conform to a dress code. While this is true, they are not being forced to conform to a dress code that is inconsistent with their sexual identity. They are not being told to dress in a way that impresses men. The dress code actually benefits them. They want to attract women.
I am attempting to shed light on what it means to be a non-heterosexual individual in a society where heterosexuality is the norm and prevails as the majority; where heterosexual standards are consistently imposed either explicitly or implicitly.
I recognize that it is challenging, even for the most empathic individuals, to truly comprehend how it feels to live and function in a society where you not only feel out of place, but also where you are told to censor immutable parts of yourself that are so fundamental to your identity.
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