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You would think that gay men, being the oppressed people that we are, would be civilized enough to refrain from other forms of discrimination. Yet, in my five years in New York, I have come to realize that some of us are the most vicious practitioners of prejudice ever. I'm sure this comes as a surprise to no one.

The most prevalent form of gay prejudice appears at the separation of old and young, best known as 'agism'. As a young man, who looks even younger, yet thinks much older, I have experienced levels of agism from both parties that would shock many. I relate better to an older crowd, but I still can't escape the generation jokes.

This past week, I picked up a fresh piece of reading, "Reeling in the Years: Gay Men's Perspectives on Age and Agism", by Tim Bergling. There's really nothing unpredictable about it. Bergling interviews a extremely broad pool of men on their interactions (or lack thereof) outside their own age bracket. On the positive end, you read stories of inter-generational relationships and how they battle social norms to keep their love alive (awwwww!). But, there's also the highly anticipated negative side, in which you get to hear the separate groups bash each other. Goody gumdrops.

The younger side's argument is nothing out of the ordinary. They see the older men as predatorial...only looking to scoop up a fresh piece of ass from an unknowing victim. This is normally a safe assumption in a bar or club, especially if the gentlemen in question is by himself. Having been pursued by a plethora of older men in my 8 years of being out, I sympathize with this paranoia. Luckily, I have interacted with my homosexual elders in other environments, and know better.

But, then, I read the opposition: what the older men are saying about age group. And quite honestly, I was hurt. A slew of the men interviewed pulled no punches. They expressed their views of my generation as shallow, only interested in fucking our brains out, and completely ignorant of our history and predecessors. I know I don't exactly come from the ripest batch of homos, but to be included in these generalizations was truly painful.

As if on cue, I came across this ad online for a club night where my kind is apparently not welcome:

"Don't tell the twinks downstairs, but longtime nightlife veteran Paul Short's your daddy upstairs on the Sixth Avenue club's third floor, where the music is rockin' and the men can actually grow beards."

How rude. I've always been considerate and respectful to those who came before me. But now, thanks to my sorry-excuses-for-peers, I''m feeling extremely hated and attacked. Thanks a bunch.

The moral is, boys...cut back on the troll talk. For every comment you utter about a 'creepy old man', you're making the rest of us look ignorant and ungrateful. No one's making you fuck anyone you don't want to, so leave my reputation out of it.

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Cas A beautifully written and insightful commentary, Little Brother. I look forward to reading the book you've referenced here as well. Ageism is an ugly part of the gay-mating process that's unfortunately as ubiquitous an association with the scene as maribou boas and the Village People once were. And indeed, the disrespect goes both ways (though truth be told, to an extent, I'd bet good money that the youth-bashing on the older guys' part is in response to feeling bashed first -- "well if I'm too old and saggy, you're too stupid and you cum too quickly."). But there is, naturally, an exception to every single rule. There are young guys who love the wisdom, the ease, the experience, and (thankfully) the gray hairs of the older man (even if we do tend to diminish this affinity by calling it a "daddy complex"); and older men who relish the vitality and the fun and the outright refreshment of their younger counterparts (see my earlier column here on Phrolix.com, "Suck-U-Bus"). In the end, though we operate in a milieu built largely on surface appeal, we all too often find it hard to break out of the need for eye contact and instant chemistry and hold up these potential sparks as labels that we cling to and embody almost unconsciously. If we were not meeting in gay bars but rather at book clubs and committee meetings, maybe it would be easier for us to look past the outer shell into the more important meat of a man's substance.

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