Out in the Country: Rural Gays Feel Less Isolated Today, But Stigma
Remains
Pittsburgh Post-Gazette
By L.A. Johnson and Rebecca Droke
June 18, 2008
As a young man, Washington County native Patrick Arena was taunted
because of his sexual orientation.
People labeled Patrick Arena "a fairy" early on.
As the only boy in tap classes at the Vella School of Dance in
Washington, Pa., in the 1960s, he was taunted and whispered about.
"Truth was, I knew I was gay, but I certainly wouldn't admit it," says
Mr. Arena, 57, of Washington. "There was nobody to discuss it with and I
was afraid to discuss it anyway. I certainly couldn't talk about it with
my parents or guidance counselor."
Growing up gay in Washington County in the 1960s was painful. Decades
later, the climate for 22-year-old Patrick Cameron and other gay, lesbian,
bisexual and transgender people is better in the county, as it is in much
of rural America.
But as GLBT communities in Pittsburgh and other cities nationwide host
pride festivals and pride weeks throughout the summer, advocates say
there's still room for improvement in rural areas, where gay populations
remain small. Washington County, for example, has only about 250 same-sex
couples, says demographer Gary J. Gates, co-author of "The Gay and Lesbian
Atlas." Overall, about 20 percent of same-sex couples in Pennsylvania live
in rural areas, said Dr. Gates, a Johnstown native and senior research
fellow at the Williams Institute at the UCLA School of Law.
When Mr. Arena was in high school, he pretended he was straight, always
pursuing "unattainable" girls, like the head cheerleader or head
majorette. During a Christmas concert in the 10th or 11th grade, a teacher
who always had encouraged his singing and choreography, shocked him.
"I guess I was standing [in a way] he thought was effeminate in the
middle of the chorus, in the front row," Mr. Arena says. "In the middle of
the concert, he came up and pushed me and kicked my knee so I would
straighten my leg out and told me to stop standing like a 'faggot.' "
After the concert, the teacher asked, "Are you a faggot? If you are, I
don't want you in any more of my concerts."
Mr. Arena was speechless and devastated.
"I still discuss this in therapy to this day," says Mr. Arena, now a
private voice coach and jazz singer who has performed at some Pittsburgh
Pride events this week, at Pittsburgh's Hard Rock Cafe and the Backstage
Bar at Theater Square. "I felt like I couldn't trust anybody."
Because he was a dancer, his Washington High School classmates
nicknamed him the Sugar Plum Fairy. At his high school graduation in 1969,
the student council president announced him as Patrick "Sugar Plum Fairy"
Arena.
"Of course, everybody laughed," he said. "That was really humiliating,
but I had to walk on stage, smiling and waving."
He attended Duquesne University for about two years, but left the
school and headed to New York City in 1972 to study jazz. He worked and
lived on Christopher Street, the epicenter of the gay rights movement and
ground zero for New York's AIDS crisis, in the 1980s and 1990s.
"I was right there when people started getting sick and losing weight
and they didn't know what it was," he said. "I lost over 200 people that I
knew, friends and acquaintances."
He returned to Washington in 1999 to care for his ailing father, who
passed away about two years ago. Today, he's a member of PFLAG (Parents,
Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays) in Washington County and
participates in programs in Washington sponsored by Persad Center Inc., a
Pittsburgh-based counseling center dedicated to serving the gay, lesbian,
bisexual and transgender community.
"I thought that things would have changed somewhat in those 25-plus
years," he says of his hometown. "I found that there's a lot of homophobia
here and it hadn't changed as much as I'd hoped it had."
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