Are Toronto gays Heartless?
A flood of letters to fab bitched that Toronto gays are cold and unfriendly. Are we really so frigid? Shawn Hitchins finds out..

Recently, my close circle of friends was invaded by a couchsurfer from Montreal who complained ad nauseam about Toronto and its homosexuals. At first, his rants were entertaining, echoing an understanding that Toronto is a “cold” city. But after two months of his berating statements, our guest proved to be an ill-mannered hypocrite and less than sage.

His opinions made me question, What is more irritating? My seasonal eczema or listening to this tourist bitch?

Toronto is not an ideal destination for a vacationer. There are friendlier, more aesthetically pleasing cities in warmer climates with beachfronts, ancient redwood forests and tequila farms just a Vespa-ride away. In fact, being waterboarded at Guantanamo might provide a more life-affi rming experience than a visit to Toronto.

Toronto has white Protestant roots, a work-based culture and an identity that disseminates into the smaller communities and municipalities that feed its workforce. Every day we carve our individual urban trails, shadowed by Starbucks, Tim Hortons and Shoppers Drug Mart, impervious to the homeless, the canvassers and the men in suits selling Black History bibliographies. We work to maintain a lifestyle that is designed to facilitate commercial and corporate success. We party on the weekend and rarely like to be interrupted in our familiar bubbles of hedonistic pursuit.

Multitasking is a Toronto survival skill. I decide to combine eating and an interview with an overdue obligation. My friend Neal Sedgwick and I are always “very busy.” We promise to “have coffee” or “do lunch,” but we never follow through. Sedgwick is a producer who has lived and worked in almost every Canadian city, as well as New York. He agrees, over an Indian buffet, that one’s perception of Toronto is based on personal experience.

“If you go out to gay soccer or gay volleyball night at Woody’s and you have friends on the team and they introduce you to people, it can be a wonderful night. If you’re standing in the corner alone at The Barn and you don’t know anyone, Toronto can be a miserably cold city,” explains Sedgwick.

Sedgwick thinks a strong-minded, confident and attractive gay man will break through the gay social strata faster than others. “It all depends on your age, who you’re hanging out with and the type of people you’re lucky or unfortunate enough to meet,” he says, pouring water for himself before me.

When it comes to cities, Sedgwick isn’t a size queen. “You can’t equate size with friendliness,” he laughs. “There are small gay resort towns across the US that are tiny yet still warm and inviting. Just because a city has a lot of venues and a lot of homos doesn’t mean it will be a happy and inviting place.”

Sedgwick thinks that coldness isn’t so much a Toronto disposition but a part of the Canadian culture. “Americans are eager to chat and interact with a stranger in a way that Canadians don’t seem to be,” he says. “You can walk into a gay bar in Manhattan, seven days a week, and people will chat you up, and by the end of the night you will have met a few interesting people. You can walk into a Church St bar on a given night and nobody will smile or look at you,” he adds with a matter-of-fact tone.

Living in a city is like living in a small town. Both are full of drug addicts, sluts, criminals, alcoholics, gossips, religious freaks and polygamists, but in a city you’re not related to most of them. Unlike a rural community, existing in an urban environment can increase our sense of isolation, but isolation is not unique to Toronto. Gay men who move to a city seeking personal over financial opportunity, no matter what city, can experience intense feelings of disruption and social isolation.

“Newcomers who don’t feel networked or connected are more than likely to feel isolated, but those kinds of findings are not differential by city,” says Dr Barry D Adam, a professor of sociology at the University of Windsor and Director of Prevention Research at the Ontario HIV Treatment Network. He finds a connection between migratory groups and those who feel social isolation. Groups like Latinos, who come from tightly knit social communities, have a hard time amalgamating into the reserved mindset of Toronto.

Adam believes that gay men have a choice. “Either stay home and don’t find a boyfriend or launch yourself out of isolation. It’s not always easy or successful.” He notes that this sink-or-swim scenario can account for the many negative opinions of Toronto’s gay community.

Connecting with people online or through the party scene develops fragile relationships because these scenes do not have an existing network of support. “The typical gay way is to use sex as a medium to make connections. Some like it, but for a lot of people it isn’t satisfying all their social and emotional needs,” suggests Adam.

There is no singular gay lifestyle. We create our own appearance, social life and sexual behaviour through our own individual choices. Contrary to homosexual folklore, there is no omnipotent ruler of the gay community. There is no half man/ half Taylor Lautner in leather chaps dictating the homosexual lifestyle. The gay community is composed of small-business owners and non-profit organizations, facilitated by underpaid workers and volunteers. This group of dedicated individuals believes there should be bars, newspapers, theatres, sports leagues, Pride festivals, emergency helplines, radio stations, bathhouses and public health facilities that reflect the interests and service the needs of the LGBT community. This community includes you, the patron and the beneficiary.

“There are a lot of guys who feel that they are not having their needs met, and it brings up the question of whether the gay world is organized in the best way it could be, or in a way the meets the needs of the people,” says Adam. For some, complaining is a positive way to vocalize frustrations and pinpoint areas of improvement, but for most, complaining is a cataract that worsens over time, clouding how they view the world and the gay men in it.

The grass may seem greener in other cities, but Adam presents a simple answer that does not require uprooting and replanting oneself. He suggests moving within the gay community, making choices that make you happy, choices that benefit and support other gay people.

“If people went to a group like the 519 or joined a caucus of a political party, they could find a place where they relate to other gay people in a way that is not just sexual. They might have a better chance of obtaining a more well-rounded relationship, if that’s what they want,” Adam says.

If we strip away sexuality and look at our individual traits and personalities, it is impossible to like and want to like everyone. There are a lot of bigoted idiots online typing with one hand; there are a lot of douchebags who will tell you that they hate your new haircut and your new sweater. These people are completely out of your reach — and I don’t mean reaching up. It is exhausting to continually discern the sociopaths from the gentlemen while maintaining the pokerface needed to survive in this city. It’s a race towards bitterness, and a lot of us have been crosstraining for years.

Toronto’s gays aren’t necessarily heartless, but they’re only as friendly as you are. Couchsurfers, who dip their toes in the frigid waters of this city, can survive the lurking sharks without incident. But testing the generosity of others by falling asleep during house parties, professing your love to complete strangers, and ornamenting a Christmas tree with a shrimp-ring makes waves and provokes reactions in shallow waters. Knowing how to stay afloat in a mercurial environment is not only survival but also common sense.

Shawn Hitchins is a writer and performer who is happy to announce his new show Shawn Hitchins Is a Single White Douche. Info:shawnhitchins.com

Illustrations by Troy Brooks, troybrooks.com