Sporting Stereotypes

Last Sunday, my sex-bunny friend Stanley declared that one of his dreams had come true.

Well, partially, at least.

"I've always wanted to be surrounded by hot, lean, sweaty men wearing rubber, and I should have been more specific," he said wistfully, staring at the hordes of lycra-donning athletes at East Coast Park.

The two of us were at Car Park E2 that morning to support Carl who was doing one of those races which we would never imagine ourselves doing: A 5km run followed by a 1km swim, followed by a 10km run.

But that very morning, we woke up early (5.30am!) and groggily and grumpily joined our muscular and dense friend at ECP.

Minutes after the flag off at 7am, Stanley stirred to life.

"I will have sex with him, him, him, and him," Stanley said with approval, his shades lowered for more visual clarity.

"We should have been more supportive of Carl's love for endurance sports sooner - look at all the action I've been missing," Stanley said ruefully.

Our sporty friend Carl had been in love with endurance sports for as long as we can remember.

I think it started out with Carl crossing his first finishing line at the 2003 Standard Chartered Marathon.

Back then, Carl was a skinny monkey, in Stanley's words.

But over the years, Carl became more obsessed with the sport - progressing from marathons to aquathlons and then to triathlons.

Stanley and I never understood what was so fun about having to swim, bike, run, for such long hours.

But we turned up at East Coast Park that morning anyway.

Mainly because we hoped to cheer Stanley up (he lost his job recently and hasn't been very motivated in life) and at the same time, to cheer Carl on (who didn't really need it given that he is always surrounded by his bunch of sporty blokes during his races).

"I am exhausted just looking at these cute athletes," Stanley said with a sigh.

"I know right. Who wants to push themselves so hard, swimming and running such long distances," I said, rolling my eyes.

"No, Adam," Stanley said, rolling his eyes for me to see.

"I'm exhausted because I just mentally made love to the sixth guy this morning. It's very taxing, you know, having to climax six times in a row," Stanley said, fanning himself dramatically under the huge Angsana tree which we hoped provided us enough shade during the course of the day.

After 45 minutes, Stanley started to fidget and said in a bored tone: "What time do you think Carl will be done? I'm done having mental sex with the athletes."

And according to Stanley, he was quite shocked by the quality of the athletes there.

You would have thought that all these athletes - with their training and all - would be in shape, he said.

True enough, they were.

In all sorts of shapes - most of whom were beyond repair.

The only lean and muscular ones led the pack.

Those at the back, to Stanley's horror, were all fat.

"Look at that one. So fat still dare to wear tri suit," Stanley said, shaking his head.

"And oh my goodness. Hello uncle. Please don't run shirtless. Your're offending my sensitivities," he went on.

Stanley had switched gears.

Our fey friend is now on bitchy mode. Watch out, East Coast Park.

And then, Stanley tugged at my t-shirt and said with urgency: "Adam, Adam!"

"That one, that one," Stanley continued, sounding every bit like a child at a toy store.

I turned to look in Stanley's direction and saw a tan, moustached man in a black-and-white tri suit.

"I slept with him before," Stanley said with amusement.

"Oh, this is going to be fun," he said, switching gears again.

"I'm going to spot the number of gay men here, and see if I've slept with any of them!"

Oh no. Watch out, East Coast Park.

Turned out, there was quite a handful, Stanley reported later.

"I can confirm that there are at least 35 gay men in this race - whom I can spot with my naked eye," he said, stressing the word naked as expected.

Now I know why they call this race an "aqua-thlon", Stanley said, complaining that some of the athletes, with their sashaying buttocks, really look like they belong on the runway rather than on the racing track.

And that got me thinking about sports and stereotypes.

Once upon a time, gay sports was confined to the four walls of the gym - where homosexuals routinely go and pump iron to buff up.

Stanley readily agrees that the gym is indeed a place for pumping action - though I refuse to clarify further with him.

Gymming and gay men have been so successfully integrated that sometimes, it's hard to tell if a muscular bloke is really straight or not.

Then we evolved to dragon boating.

Which is a logical transition.

I mean, with all the huge biceps and muscle strength, surely you'll need a platform to unleash all that power?

Stanley argues that with huge biceps and muscle strength, dragon boating isn't the only platform to unleash that power. Again, I refuse to take that bait.

The stereotype between dragon boating and gay men - wearing colourful NUM singlets who walk around in public with their oars - is so successful that there are even tumblr accounts set up to celebrate all these cute and mainly gay paddlers.

But slowly, more and more gay men are breaking stereotypes in sports.

We hear of global gay athletes who come out of their locker room closets: From Olympians to national sportsmen.

And they come from a range of sports: Basketball, football, wrestling, diving swimming - you get the idea.

And locally, we recently had a brave national athlete who came out too.

Stanley is convinced that there are many more gay athletes in Singapore, and even threatened to do voluntary leg work just to prove his theory right.

And Stanley might have a point.

That there could well be more gay national athletes than we know.

Imagine what they can do collectively if they come out.

For one, they can lead the pack and break stereotypes - and use that example to change other people's mindsets on homosexuality.

You know, such as, how netball isn't just a sport for lesbians. Or how my sexuality does not limit my ability to win medals for my country.

Stanley totally agrees, though he has far more creative ideas about what the gay national athletes can do collectively.

My point is, gays - as with all other groups of people in society - are stereotyped.

Which is fine.

But because gays are slowly breaking stereotypes - in various aspects such as in jobs, sports, the way we dress - we can take this opportunity and ride on this trend and do something constructive.

Case in point.

Carl, because of his denseness, looks like a straight triathlete.

And because he's also a speedy athlete (he was once ranked 38th in a tough swimming race which had 150 participants), nobody thought he was gay.

One day, he casually told his training mates that he really does like penises.

Their reactions were predictable: Oh, we couldn't tell, we wouldn't have known, it doesn't matter anyway.

(To this day, Stanley insists that the friends who trained with Carl are equally - if not, more - dense than Carl.)

Carl then seized the moment and turned that into a teachable episode: To educate his friends that gay men aren't any different from straight men when it came to triathlons.

(To this day, Stanley insists that Carl shouldn't have just seized the moment - there were so many other things Carl could have seized, given that he had the undivided attention of a bunch of cute, straight athletes, but let's not go there.)

When gay men break stereotypes, we stand a better chance of being heard: Because we've surprised our audience.

And because we've surprised our audience, it gives us an upper hand - or more street cred, if you will - to make an argument: Their attention has been seized; the pillars of their mindset are softening; we need to go in for the kill and reshape those pillars while they're still malleable.

In Carl's case, he did justice to all gay triathletes.

While his team mates were still digesting that fact that Carl was gay, and reprogramming their impression of Carl, no doubt, keying in new input to his identity, Carl took that opportunity to help shape their thinking about gay men. 

In the same vein, those who get an opportunity to deconstruct stereotypes in other contexts could - and should - do the same. 

I shared my thoughts with Stanley, who looked unconvinced.

Just then, Carl ran towards us.

We cheered him on, joining the roaring crowd who were his friends.

It was a proud moment for us, witnessing Carl cross the finishing line.

As we slow-jogged over to join Carl, his straight team mates playfully slapped him on his buttocks and gave him brotherly hugs of congratulations.

Stanley turned to me and said, "I am going to be a triathlete - and I'll put the aqua in the aquathlon."