BY: JASON RAYNER

Me in Berlin, not the most excited to go home.

If you’ve read this blog, follow me on Instagram, or have had a conversation with me in the last few months, you know that I recently spent a month in Paris, Barcelona, Munich, Prague, and Berlin. Being wildly neurotic and having a naturally uncanny ability to get ahead of myself, I spent a good portion of the time before I left worrying that I would not only have a terrible time but, that I would also come back without a Julia Roberts/Reese Witherspoon Eat Pray Wild Love mash-up transformation.

What happened was beyond anything I could have imagined. It was a month where I was able to focus on my own art and the art of others, expose myself to various cultures, and physically remove myself from many of the issues and struggles that had been plaguing me over the last year (you know stress about the future of my career, terrible body image, my deep rooted fear of commitment and dating, grief. Basically name a common issue, and I’ve probably got it!).

What I didn’t anticipate was the feeling of true, honest dread of coming back to Toronto. About halfway through the flight back home it suddenly sunk in that I was going to return back to a life that I had essentially repressed memory of. When we began our descent, I looked out the window and saw Toronto in all her glory. It was dark, and Toronto was bright and vibrant and just like Mimi talking about the ghost of Angel at the end of RENT, she looked good. However, as we got further to the ground, I felt a sharp sinking feeling that was far more vivid than the usual “oh how sad vacation is done, I don’t want to go back to work”. I felt like I was risking losing a piece of myself that had grown while I was there. It was as if I was on my way to my boyfriend’s house, knowing full well that I want to break up with him.

I had fallen out of love with Toronto.

While away, I felt myself changing. I found myself in a more earnest and sensitive mindframe. I would allow myself to take time to emotionally connect to what was around me - whether it be a painting at an art gallery, the surrounding architecture, or focusing on the song that I was listening to while exploring the city. I was taking time to be sentimental and to my surprise, it was nourishing. I felt like I was being a little bit more like something that I’ve heard discussed on an Oprah Super Soul podcast.

Allowing myself to be in touch with my emotional state, also allowed me to be more productive with my work. In the time that I was gone, I found myself worrying less about quantity and more about quality. The result, ironically enough was that once I let go, I wrote enough for a feature film worth of material. By allowing myself to connect, the words poured out, and it didn’t matter how many hours a day I spent writing it, or how many pages a day I wrote.

Most importantly, it affected my everyday life. I was more patient with others but mostly myself. I was gentler and kinder. I was open to experiences and people. The tension in my shoulders that I had carried from stressing myself out that I wasn’t enough had dropped. It was like I learned how to live life like my hero, Paddington Bear.

In Toronto, I find myself constantly overwhelmed. North American culture thrives on hustle, especially with a career in the arts. There are always emails to answer, there are always multiple projects to balance, and there is always (unfriendly) competition. If I’m not overwhelmed by my career, it’s usually pressures regarding how much money I should have, or what things someone my age should have either accomplished or should own (isn’t capitalism grand?), regardless if they’re things that I want.

Before I left I was becoming someone I didn’t entirely recognize. I was becoming jaded and petty to the point that I was shocked when someone called me positive - partly because if felt like an insult implying that I was naive. I would stress myself out to the point that I would have extreme emotional overreactions to things that didn’t really matter. I was spreading myself thin and I wasn’t happy. I was losing touch with things that I loved and myself. I wouldn’t allow myself the luxury to be vulnerable.

Of course, I’m also aware of the travel haze. Being away means exposure to only the best parts of a place - eating great food, going to the most beautiful attractions and galleries, and partying in all the best spots. Travelling is essentially a Madonna Greatest Hits package of a city - everything is a massive bop because track 10 from True Blue was cut (fun fact: there is no track 10 on True Blue - ha!). The last thing I want to be is the person who spends the next three months talking about how everything is better in Europe because I spent a month there and lived the best possible version of life.

Taking that into account, I’ve never felt more alive than I did when I was in Paris or Berlin. To me, Paris is the most romantic, beautiful, and electrifying city in the world. I feel confident declaring it my favourite place to visit but it doesn’t quite feel like a home. Berlin, on the other hand is a different story. It is such an exciting, wild, weird, and progressive place. Within minutes of walking through the train station I didn’t just feel connected, I felt settled.

So what do I do? I feel like the version of myself that touched down in Toronto is a more authentic one. I also don’t know how that version fits in with life in the city.

The reality is I live in Toronto. My career is establishing itself here, and the vast majority of the people I love - and I cannot overstate the importance of this - live here. I also know that being physically away from problems can allow for fresh insights but picking up and leaving won’t magically solve everything.

That being said, I don’t want to make any decisions until I’ve done everything I can to repair my relationship with the city.

Which is why I’ve made a pact with myself to give the city a year. Most of the things that I loved about my trip - the culture, the art, the food - are all things Toronto has. For the most part, a lot of my dissatisfaction with this city is my own fault. I’ve become complacent and stubborn and hesitate to go anywhere that is farther away than a 30 minute walk. I’ve somehow convinced myself that I prefer staying at home watching whatever streaming service currently has the most pop culture-worthy TV show instead of connecting with people in real life (sorry, liking someone’s social media post is not the same as a conversation). I’ve created a bubble that I never break out of at the expense of experiencing the city. The city has so much to offer, and I spend most of it sitting at home drinking wine (not to disrespect wine - although it seriously is overpriced here).

The goal is to actually live in this city. Just like if I was a tourist, I want to experience everything it has to offer. I’m going to say yes to things (like Shonda Rhimes told me to!), and not let distance, or HBO get in the way of it.

As for my perspective change? I think the most important thing I can do is apply those things I’ve learned while away to my life here. I can’t change the culture as a whole but I can change how I interact in that space. The noise and distraction will always be there, but it’s always been up to me when choosing to listen to it.

For the longest time, Toronto was one of my great loves. Born and raised here, being a Torontonian has been an essential part of my identity and it feels strange to doubt that. I don’t know where the future is going to take me entirely but I feel different and I feel like I’m on the verge of a new chapter. I just don’t know if the next chapter in my life involves living in Toronto. There’s a very good chance that chapter will happen in Europe. But I don’t want to break up with Toronto without giving them a fair shot.

BY: JASON RAYNER

Dear Cis Straight (White) Women,

There’s something I’ve been wanting to talk to you about for a while now. Something that initially seemed harmless but has grown to be a bit of - well…a problem. I’d like to to discuss your recent behaviour in gay bars.

I’m sure there is already a fair share of you reading this that are formulating an opinion on what I have to say. Please, stay with me and read through this. Because in most cases, I appreciate your presence in gay bars. I just think we need to talk about what being an ally in a queer space actually entails.

Of course, this is also a generalization. I know this isn’t all of you. And yes, I’m kind of singling out cis straight white women (let’s call them CS(W)W) because honestly, they are who make up the largest group I would like to address. They also tend to be blonde women that go by names like Lindsay or Kaylee, but I think that might just be a really strange coincidence.

This is to the CS(W)W who show up to the gay bar without any of their queer friends. This is to the CS(W)W at the gay bar who push past me (often quite aggressively; which I don’t understand - it’s not like they’re giving away free drinks or commemorative key chains) so that they can get to the front of the drag show. This is to the CS(W)W that are on the packed dance floor, elbows out and pushing other people, screaming that they don’t have enough room to dance, even though the space is jam packed and everyone is kind of just jostling from side to side awkwardly. This is to the CS(W)W who go dancing in a large group without any queer friends, usually on a stage or riser or really anywhere else that makes you the center of attention, and grab random gay men and begin to grind on them, touching various parts of their bodies because there is no sexual attraction, therefore you believe it is safe. This is especially to the CS(W)W who show up with their bachelorette parties, and while I know it’s unintentional, you treat the whole event like a fun novelty where the queens on stage and patrons of the bar are simply accessories and good Instagram stories.

These are just some of the now common occurrences I’ve been seeing when I’ve been out at gay bars lately.

Everyone is welcome at a gay bar, that goes without saying. Some of my fondest memories involve me being a young queer at a gay bar surrounded by my closest straight girlfriends. I’m lucky enough to be able to even share that space with straight male friends, which is pretty incredible. It’s just, well...I hate to break this to you but...as a cis straight person - you are a guest at our party.

I am very aware that the bar scene around the city is gross if you’re a female. I’m also aware that I have (white) male privilege and I cannot accurately understand how frustrating and scary it must be to deal with straight men approaching you like they are entitled to your attention. Toxic masculinity is a shit show and comes out in spades in bar culture, and sometimes you want to be able to get drunk and dance with your friends. A gay bar can seem like a safer refuge, and that is fair. Going to a gay bar and taking ownership over the space however, is not the answer. It is invoking your heterosexual privilege, demanding that you get priority over the community that the space was created for. More importantly, going to a gay bar without any queer friends is never the answer. The space we have carved out at gay bars is more than just a night out for us.

The mere existence of a gay bar is political. They are a safe space. They are a place where we can see ourselves, where we can meet other queer folk, where we can dance freely without worrying about being judged. We can consensually kiss who we want, we can be affectionate with our partners (or if you’re me, more likely a stranger), we can fall in love, and depending on the bar, we can get sexual. All in public. We have created a space to do this safely. These are freedoms that even in the best of times, even in a city like Toronto, feel limited outside the walls of a gay bar.

The reason there is no such thing as a “straight bar” is because every other bar and space is automatically given the inherent privilege of cisgender heteronormativity. It’s that heteronormativity that makes a queer like me afraid to go dance somewhere outside the village because, even if there is a special gay night at a west end bar, I still have to worry that some bro named Doug is going to call me or my friends a fag on our way home. It’s why even walking down a street with a partner outside of the village, I have to think twice about holding hands with him. I never know how safe I am. Even as a cis white gay male, which I would be very ignorant to not acknowledge comes with a certain amount of privilege within the gay community, I still feel like I have to navigate my queerness around the city. It’s a constant negotiation, and one that I’m sure most if not all queer people also have to reconcile on a regular basis.

Most importantly, please be aware of how you interact with other gay men. Just like you, sometimes I just want to dance with my friends, and if I’m going to get pulled into a grinding situation, I want it to be a consensual experience with a sexy man who is cross between Antoni from Queer Eye and Adam Rippon. If I do end up kissing a cutie, please do not tell me how hot we look. It’s creepy and inappropriate. Oh, and most importantly, if you are there to watch something harmless and fun like a Best Ass contest, do not run to the front and start smacking the asses of the participants (again, these aren’t wild scenarios, these are actual things I’ve experienced and seen firsthand).

So yes, of course you are welcome at a gay bar. Just please, when you show up, remember that you get to leave the gay bar and return to society, where your identity as a heterosexual is common and accepted, and your basic human rights are never up for debate come election time. Be an ally, and show up with your queer friends. Of course drag queens are amazing, and Drag Race really is one of the best shows on TV, but it’s our culture. We let you think that you discovered Robyn but we can’t let push us aside in our spaces.

Thanks for reading this and being so understanding. I absolutely love the fact that there is a love for our culture, and I’m happy that you want to be a part of it. It’s exciting that you are an ally, no matter how far we’ve come, we still need them. I look forward to enjoying a drag show with you and your queer friends (who are not accessories - but you know that already). And Robyn is rad and we should all love her together.

Best Wishes,

Jason

P.S. Since I have you on the line, can I just mention two other things? I’ll be quick I promise!

What is up with the gender reveal parties? Gender is a construct, and while I love an excuse for cake, creating an event where your child is forced to conform to these gender constructs before they are even born is gross. So stop it. Please. You’re better than this nonsense.
What is with the obsession over gender roles within your relationship? You are both capable of paying, you are both capable of cooking and cleaning, and you are both capable of proposing to each other.