Rio Gay Janeiro (Paraqueer?)

When thinking about my summer, I knew that I wanted two things: to be out, and to experience, in some capacity, queer social life in another country. That definitely wasn't why I chose to come to Brazil, but it was something I thought about a lot after finalizing my summer travel plans. So while I obsessively Googled "gay nightlife rio" or "gay-friendly brazil," not knowing exactly where I would be staying once in Rio hampered just how productive that Googling actually was. Not to mention that "gay Paraty" turns up a review for Paraty Affairs, a--how shall I say?--"mature" film about a "rangy, dreamy-eyed Argentinian" and his "various sexual adventures involving well-built, uncircumcised, sun-toasted men"--as well as that super awkward Out Travel review.[[Actually, re-watching that travel review and re-reading the porno review leads to some eery similarities... In fact, they basically follow the same plot, from the boat trip to the sexualized pool playing (in the reviewer's words, "handsome Raul Dias sounds his [co-star's] depths on a billiard table"). Right..]]

Anyway, Paraty unsurprisingly failed to be the rustic gay mecca that Logo promised. The only queer thing of note happened on perhaps our drunkest night there. Being led around town by some (overly?) friendly Paraty natives, or paratienses (some of whom have since been Facebook friended by people on the trip...), my fellow group of Yalies and I downed caipirinhas, cachaça shots, and Brazilian beer in quantities that would make a Zeta brother proud (may their frat RIP--but not really). Stumbling back to the pousada with perhaps much more trust in these random strangers than we should have had, I struck up a conversation with one couple, who I later learned owned the town's largest internet cafe, Dog Fighter (say, dohg-ee-fye-teh). Rather than describe the exchange, I'll let the words speak for themselves. Luckily, drunk me thought it a good idea to transcribe everything that was said--gotta love that guy:

Me [slurringly]: So, are there gay people in Paraty? A gay club?
Lady Rando: Haha. No. Sometimes foreigners, the foreign gays love it here. No clubs.
Me: Ughhh.
Lady Rando: Are you gay?
Me: Yeah.
Lady Rando: Really? You don't seem like it.
Me: Thank you...?
Lady Rando: You're welcome. [to Man Rando] Hey! He wants to know if there's a gay club in Paraty!!
Man Rando: Gay club? Are you gay??
Me: Um.
Man Rando: Gay! You like to kiss men?
Me [slurringly and awkwardly]: Um. Yeah.
Man Rando: Hah! Stay away from me then!
Landy Rando: Shuttup! He's only joking, Brazilians love gays.

Thus ended my search for queerness in Paraty. No big. I would be in Rio in a matter of days. And besides, I had requested GLS (Gays, Lésbicas, e Simpatizantes) housing--yes, the word for "ally" in Portuguese is "sympathizer"...

Like I mentioned earlier, my lodgings in Ipanema were pretty damn queer. A block away from the gay beach, a short walk from Le Boy (and La Girl), and a subway ride from The Week. But my interactions with gay Rio didn't start until Jazzmin and I went to Lapa--famous for its dancing, its clubs, its street vendors, and its propensity for casual molestation. No, seriously. Women, especially foreign women, attract a lot of (sometimes unwanted--just ask a few girls on the trip) attention, which occasionally gets physical.

While meandering around, Jazzmin and I noticed a group of women whose shirts boldly declaring "Sou uma mulher do arco-íris, com muito orgulho! I'm a woman of the rainbow and very proud of it!" Of course, we then proceeded to stalk them as they handed out fliers and, eventually, after consuming a Skol or two, I basically shoved Jazzmin into their lesbian midsts and had them give us their spiel. They're called Laços e Acasos (which translates [very] roughly to Links and Happenstance) and are part of Cidadanía Arco-Íris (Rainbow Citizenry), Brazil's oldest LGBT organization. They're an all female group dedicated to improving safe sex practices among lesbian and bisexual women as well as providing a space for queer women to discuss any number of issues (religion, relationships, family, etc.). After cruising (no pun intended) their website, I found out that they have a group for gay and bisexual boys and men called Entre Garotos (Between Guys). I shot them an email and went to one of their meetings--it was an incredible experience!

While it was kind of a schlep to actually get to where the meeting was held (and it wasn’t in the best part of Rio), and when we got there I had to awkwardly explain that I wasn’t looking for free HIV testing. Thankfully, the woman that I’d emailed came over and brought us into the room where Entre Garotos was meeting. There were about 20 people there throughout the course of the night, with an age range of maybe 17 to 22. The group members were presenting on hepatitis transmission and prevention. I had no idea that there were that many kinds of hep… Every presentation was fun (and informative!) with the guys all joking around with each other and with the older, organizational folks there. For example, the women in charge of the programs demonstrated, quite vividly, how to put on a condom using nothing but your moth—her demonstration involved a flavored condom and a humongous dildo (and lots of uncontrollable laughter). One of the teenagers jumped up and offered himself as an alternative to the dildo, prompting one of the older women (who seemed to be a doctor or nurse) to remark how much easier safe-sex for women was. Easier? I dunno, but there’s definitely much less risk of setting off your gag reflex.

After the presentation, I spoke to the woman in charge (as you can probably tell, I completely forgot her name and was too far in the conversation to ask what it was…). She told me that Entre Garotos had two main goals: health and education. The health stuff, she said, is about teaching a new generation about HIV-AIDS and STI prevention. They focus on getting condoms and other safe-sex products to the young people who need them and on teaching the basics of safe sexual practices as a means of empowering youth to make healthy decisions about their own sex lives and relationships. Being a CHE presenter, I was in heaven. And things only got better. I found out that Cidadanía Arco-Íris does anti-homophobia presentations in public secondary schools and schools that train teachers. The director explained that, since they couldn’t get into early education (LGBT sensitivity training for first graders is kind of impossible), they hoped to at least reach teachers who would be interacting with younger kids.

Like most LGBT youth organizations, Entre Garotos (and Laços, for that matter) work with youth with hostile families. In fact, two of the people at the meeting were expulsos da casa, kicked out of their homes, some had to live on the streets, having absolutely nowhere else to turn. The director remarked at how crazy it was that such things could happen in Rio in the year 2010. I told her that I had a friend working with homeless youth in New York City, the last place you would think of as anti-gay. She looked surprised, but then said, with some sadness, that prejudice was “uma coisa do homem, do ser humâno,” a part human existence. At the end of our chat we exchanged email addresses and promises to stay in touch.

I left feeling both energized, even more sure of my dedication to work with queer youth in the future—but also, perhaps understandably, sad. But even that sadness wasn’t overwhelming; I had seen the way that Rafael, the young man who’d been thrown out of his home was laughing and smiling with the rest of the garotos—I saw how he was belonging in a way that really moved me.

Other than that, my experiences at Rio's gay clubs were unimpressive. I never made it to the younger, hipper, more expensive The Week, and Le Boy was filled with little more than muscly gogo-boys, standoffish couples, and awkward dancing--not to mention a RIDICULOUS cover of 45 reais. Fortunately, that cover included a concert by the one, the only, Wanessa, who sang a variety of pop songs (from MIA to Gaga to Britney). Basically, it was a far cry from the hot sweaty mess I'd imagined. Maybe if I'd gone to The Week it would've been different, but who knows? And don't get me started on La Girl... Smirnoff Ice. Overwhelming fake fog. Seemingly no lesbians. And no one dancing (except an ambiguously gay man who started dancing in front of his reflection at the wall-length mirror). No one dancing, of course, until me and Jazzmin got up and whored out like it was no one's business.

[[P.S. I emailed back and forth with the Entre Garotos people for a while. They never got back to me after my last one though, but I'm thinking of emailing them again--and maybe hitting them up for another t-shirt...]]