Hi Robin, thanks for that story. Since you have given some of your
story I should return some of the story from my youth.

In 1977 I was lucky enough to be interviewed and offered admission to
what was then one of Australia's most elite and difficult to get into
art colleges, Sydney College of the Arts, after spending a year working
for and studying sculpture part-time at the National Art School. After
spending a month or so getting to know some of my fellow students I
started wearing one of my badges with a red butterfly on a black
background and around the edges in yellow type the words; homosexual
solidarity. Well, that ended all friendships I had started with these
ever so cool art students and also meant the lecturers who heard the
gossip that I was openly gay would not come near me or help me with a
problem during any class they taught which I attended. The other big
difference I had with nearly every student was I did not go to an elite
private school but had instead attended the local bush high school,
considered to be a disadvantaged high school. Nearly all these cool art
students were being supported by their parents who provided them with a
car and a nice flat or house to live. Perhaps it was the homophobia that
saved me but I was also savvy enough not to admit that I was paying my
way through art school myself. I was very lucky that I had youthful good
looks which attracted older men and was able to sell myself to pay my
way. Since anal sex with paying customers can be painful when young I
was also a heroin user, since I could hardly go to a doctor and get a
script for pain relief. I was, like many young gay males of my
generation, a virgin until I became a male prostitute. Had the college
found out I was a male prostitute, which was highly illegal, let alone a
heroin user, I would have been expelled, of course. It was bad enough
that I was openly gay.

The following year in 1978 I was one of the organisers of gay rights
protests in which almost 200 people were arrested. The following year,
since I had no wish at all to return to this disgustingly homophobic art
college and the police harassment I was getting in Sydney for my part as
one of the leading organisers was becoming too much to cope with and the
slum I was living in had just been trashed by a CIA agent, I very
quickly left town for Port Kembla. I was hired as a labourer by the
steelworks and since I came from a farm background and had worked as a
farm labourer I was sent to work seven day rotating shifts in the raw
materials section,  the toughest and roughest sections in the whole
plant. My co-workers were from all nationalities, Welsh, Eastern
European, Arabian, Muslim and I was only one of two Australian born
workers on my shift. After being there for almost a month and while we
were all sitting down eating crib one of my co-workers asked me why I
wore a stud in my left ear lobe. I simply said; 'cause I'm a poofter,
why else? After that all my co-workers became strong friends and after
hearing I was one of the leaders of the gay rights demonstrations which
had made headlines several times last year demanded that I run for the
position of union delegate. At first I resisted being the union delegate
but was eventually put in a position where I could not refuse and was
elected with the full support of my entire shift with the single
exception of the company stooge. On hearing that there was an openly gay
union delegate the company bosses attempted to sack me but on being
faced with a strike by the raw materials section, which would starve the
blast furnaces and also hearing that this strike would spread to other
sections possibly shutting down the entire steelworks they quickly
backed down.

Later, the co-worker who first asked about my ear stud would always
shower beside me at the end of each shift. He would then rush off and
quickly climb into his street clothes at his locker before returning to
my locker to watch me dress. He would stare at my cock as I slowly put
on my shirt, stepped into and pulled up my jeans and I would leave my
cock out until the very last moment before it came time to zip up my
fly. He was the sergeant of arms for a local outlaw motorbike group and
later asked me to ride pillion with him. The sister of another co-worker
who was a champion power lifter was having an affair with my lesbian
flatmate and another co-worker's younger brother who worked in another
section of the steelworks was taking hormones for a sex change
operation. None of my co-workers, except the company stooge, were at all
perturbed that I had once worked as a male prostitute. I  saved enough
money to buy a Nikon 35mm camera and some Nikon lenses as well as a
Mamiya professional camera with several lenses and built a darkroom.
>From this I put together a portfolio of photographs, was published
several times, invited to exhibit as an art photographer and was
eventually offered a job as a photographer with a publishing company
which had a reputation for hiring people of colour, lesbians, gay men
and women with what was for the times a very progressive and innovative
affirmative action hiring practice. I didn't go back near an institute
of higher education, given the experiences of homophobia I had
experienced, until I was thirty one years old and again lucky enough to
be offered an evening part-time admission to a communication degree in
Sydney as a mature age student. After that degree, I didn't return to
part-time study for eight more years. Last month I was invited to apply
for a doctorate candidature next year. I am now a few months off forty
seven years old.

This is some of the story of my life. If anyone thinks universities are
homophobia free and the labouring working class are all homophobes...
do not assume.

best wishes

Chris Jones.


On Thu, 2003-04-17 at 02:34, Robin Hamilton wrote:
> ... now that the issue of homophobia has come up, I  thought I might post
> this.
>
> Deeply homophobic (and dedicated to Chris Jones <g>).
>
> Robin
>
> THE DEAR GREEN PLACE