Why Are You Looking at Me That Way?

"My d*ck is sort of like a white supremacist."
-- John Mayer

It doesn't happen all of the time, but it does happen with alarming frequency. And when it does, I usually try and pretend not to notice it. But I do.

I've been calling it, "The Look".

I get "The Look" when I enter a gay space, be it a bar or club or the other places we gather. Sometimes it's a slightly annoyed eye roll. Other times, it's a pair of eyes sizing me up, analyzing whether or not I'm a threat. Sometimes it's eyes narrowing into angry slits as if my presence is somehow an affront to common decency.

It's a hostile, territorial look. And it always comes from another man of color.

Back in my early twenties, when I first began noticing this strange phenomenon, I brought up "The Look" in a conversation with a friend, who is also gay and Korean-American. What he told me felt like a kick to the face.

"Of course they're going to look at you like that. You're their competition for white men."

What!?!

Did I miss something? Did I accidentally sign up for some absurd White Man Olympics event and just forget about it? And what in God's name would I have to do to win? Even if I did, what would the anthem be, "A Whiter Shade of Pale?"

I get the dynamics of this, even if the dynamics at work here are so twisted and bleak, it makes Requiem For a Dream look like a Disney cartoon.

Out gay and bisexual men of color navigate a world that is largely defined and populated by out white gay men.

Some of us reject the idea that we can't bring our full selves into our interactions with the larger gay community.

We forge ahead, developing relationships with white men and other men of color based on those bothersome things like mutual interests, shared values, similar life experiences and a common dislike of Elizabeth Hasselbeck.

But other men of color have decided, consciously or subconsciously, that in order to truly gain entry or fit into the gay community, white partners are the only way to go, even to the exclusion of their own racial community.

Because the pool for white men dating men of color is smaller anyway, the competition is fast and (judging from the glares) really furious. It's like watching some new version of one of my favorite shows, only now it's called, The Amazing (Master) Race.

In an article entitled, "What Is Internalized Racism", writer Nadra Kareem Nittle describes this race-based Stockholm Syndrome as a "… mindset that results in self-hatred and hatred of their respective racial group."

Bingo. The looks I get aren't exactly saying, "Welcome to the gayborhood."

Look, I've gone on record saying that the idea of racially excluding some great potential partners based on their race is as stupid an idea as the one that brought Jersey Shore to our world.

Some will argue it’s a preference thing and while I see where they are coming from, the word that continues to flash my mind isn't 'preference', it's 'limiting'. But I could also care less about the boxes most gay and bisexual men want to put their hearts and their privates into. A life less lived isn't going to be my life.

I do care about how we treat each other as men of color, especially outside of the bedroom. And "The Look" is form of treatment I just can't tolerate for one more second.

I want to be sensitive to the racial messages these men have received and internalized. I want to be mindful of the struggles out men of color face when they are interacting with the larger GLBT community. I want to be helpful.

But mostly, I want to say…

Get. Over. It.

If you're suffering from internalized racism, do the things that actual racists do when they realize they need help and want to get some peace away from their prejudice. Seek out a good therapist. They are there to help you. Introduce yourself to men of color like yourself and develop friendships. Listen. Learn.

I am not in a competition for white men. I'm far too busy looking for good men and caring for my relationships with the fantastic men in my life from all different walks of life. And that's what every single one of us should be concentrating on, too.

So when I approach you at a softball game, or smile at you in a bar, or greet you at a fundraising dinner, know without a shadow of a doubt that it's quality and not approved skin color that I'm looking for.

"The Look" I'm giving you isn't one of worry, wariness or loathing.

It's of brotherhood.