Ireland's first Gay Prom takes place at the Mansion House in Dublin tonight, signalling an end to the era when graduating students were forced to hide their sexuality behind fake dates at their school debs, writes Quentin Fottrell
AFTER YEARS OF GAY teenagers bringing a fake date to their school debs or - worse - staying at home, Ireland will tonight play host to the country's first Gay Prom. Girls can bring girls. Boys can bring boys. There will be no more pretending, no more missing the big night when classmates take a stretch limo to the hotel. Tonight at 8pm in the Mansion House, one of the most "establishment" venues in the city, the BeLonG To gay youth project will host a party that has been a long time coming.
David Norris will make a speech about growing up gay in Ireland and, for all of the imperfections of modern Irish life for gay teenagers, how much grimmer it used to be. Panti, the fabled drag queen also known as Rory O'Neill, will play school mistress along with Brendan Courtney, who will fill the George Webb shoes of the headmaster. Enda McGrattan, who came up with the idea along with Michael Barron, director of BeLonG To, will perform with his group LadyFace, as will the pigtailed Shirley Temple Bar.
BeLonG To has been an important life-saver for young Irish people who are growing up gay. But Dublin's spangled coterie of drag queens does more than strut their stuff in The George or Panti Bar. They fund-raise, campaign for gay rights, help organise Alternative Miss Ireland and Gay Pride events, and are now playing a p/maternal role on what will hopefully be one of the most memorable nights of these boys' and girls' lives. Gay Community News is also supporting the event, which will include a sit-down dinner, in the Mansion House.
It's the simple things in life most people take for granted and the debs' rite of passage is one of them. You hire a tuxedo, usually get a ready-made bow tie or a "doer-upper" if you know how to tie them, buy your date a box of chocolates or an orchid, maybe hire a limo with your pals. On debs' night, your mother might hide a tear as she sees you leaving for your big night to celebrate the end of school. On this night, you get to play at being a grown-up. All going well, you dance into the early hours and stumble home at sunrise.
But for many of the girls who are spending the afternoon in the hairdresser or putting the finishing touches to their gowns, and the boys who will be stopping off on the way home from the dress hire shop to buy a box of chocolates and maybe flowers for their date, they didn't have the debs like others or, if they did, they had to continue to pretend to be someone they're not with gay boys taking girls, or vice-versa, some doing so against their natural instincts. Many schools still don't include same-sex couples on debs' night.
"I didn't go to my debs," says Addy Dillon (21), who went to school in west Dublin. "The school committee said that I couldn't bring a boy. If I couldn't bring a boy, I wasn't going to bring anyone." He says the committee had an excuse. The year before some boys went together, not as dates, but to save on the cost of bringing a date. Addy says that was the reason he was given even though he was upfront about it being a real date. He was defiant. "I thought, 'I wouldn't pay €60 to hang out with you people'!" But it hurt.
Addy sees the prom as a reward: "I didn't find any bond or rapport in school, not like I did with organisations like BeLonG To in the gay community, separate from the gay scene. The prom provides a chance to celebrate my friends. In school, I felt very stagnant. I didn't really have any interest in them and they had no interest in me. People hated my group. They used to get these big bread rolls covered in ketchup and throw them at us. They got soap cakes, put toilet roll all over them, and threw them at me in study hall."
But he didn't lose his sense of humour. A teacher once asked, "Do you have a problem with your sexuality?" and he replied, "No, but other people might." It was a good point. In his experience it was always the one who was bullied who got sent for student counselling. "I never played the straight card, but I never let anyone away with making a big deal about me being gay. If I didn't have so much pride, I would have had an easier time in school, but school is supposed to be about growing and being a man."
His story is familiar to other gay students: bullying in school was common, and teachers either turned a blind eye or didn't know how to deal with it. Students who either didn't know any better, or were afraid of being "different" or speaking up, joined in. Sometimes grades suffer and the gay student starts bunking off to avoid trouble. But for the most part they put up with it. BeLonG To's powerful "Stop Homophobic Bullying" campaign has helped, which is how the idea for the Gay Prom came about.
Michael and Enda longed to put together an event that was a celebration, without any political or campaigning edge. Several months ago, they saw a programme on Channel 4 about a gay prom in England. They texted each other at the same time. They purposely called it a prom, the American term, to distinguish it from the ordinary debs. They wanted it to have a pink-and- turquoise, wholesome, retrospective 1950s feel like Grease, complete with the election of a prom king and prom queen at the end of the night.
Michael says there are some progressive - for want of a better word - schools where boys can bring boys and girls can bring girls to their debs, but they are few and far between. When he asked around, he found something interesting. In many cases, gay boys brought lesbians to their debs and vice versa. Many of those kids weren't out - again, for want of a better word - about their sexuality. As he says, "They gravitated towards each other." Tonight will be different. "We organised the prom to counteract that isolation and negativity."
John (19) can't wait for the prom (he would like to give his full name, but he only told his dad he was bisexual a month ago and wants to give him a chance to get used to it). "I always knew I was bi since I was a child. I never thought anything different. Guys always went on about girls but I never understood why they didn't go on about other guys." He has strong opinions about his old school, in Dublin's city centre. "It was like a slaughter house, not a school. I went in as an upbeat happy little boy. I left a broken individual." He went to his debs. "They were like, 'Just get the limo, you queer.' They thought, 'John will do it because he just wants to fit it.' I never wanted to conform to them. A few of them said, 'I'm sorry I beat you up'. Or '. . . threw apples at you'. Or '. . . ripped up your books'. They thought it was okay to apologise because they'd never see me again. They apologised to get it off their chests and ease their guilty consciences, so they could look back and say, 'School was grand'. They don't have to think, 'I tortured someone for six years'."
John's mother tried to take him out of that school for years, but he told her, "No, I'm not running away from them. Why should I?" When his photograph was shown at his debs, some guys booed. "I ran out and called my mam. She said, 'You've gone through six years of endurance. A couple of people booed you, but more people respect you being there.' I said to myself, 'I didn't run away for those years - I'm not going to run now'. The Gay Prom is for all those withering violets out there who never got the chance to blossom."
It's hard to believe now, but Esther Twieg (21) says she was considered a "geek" in her south Dublin school. She left there to go to a more live-and-let-live college in Dublin, where she met her best friend Jamie. "He is the one who introduced me into this fabulous world of pink and gayness. We helped each other come out and helped each other out spiritually. He has contributed a lot to the way I am today. He believed in me when other people didn't and stuck up for me when other people brought me down."
Esther, who is bisexual, will bring her boyfriend to the prom. She never went to her own debs. "The whole point of the debs is to celebrate the last day with the people you were in school with. I didn't celebrate that. The prom is going to be a huge event where everybody can be free and express themselves through what they wear. They don't have to be worried about people discriminating against them. It's making history. It's going to be a turning point for the next generation of the gay community."
Her best friend, Jamie Kenny (21), went to school with Addy, and had similar experiences. "My mam has been the most supportive person I know. She has come to The George. I have done previous interviews and I recently found clippings that my mum had kept. She's really proud of me. She's been to BeLonG To parents' night and spoken to other parents who are curious about what BeLonG To actually is. I think she missed a career in public speaking or something."
While Enda hopes the Gay Prom runs and runs, Jamie wishes there was no need for a separate event. Jamie says: "I'm hoping a young gay/bi boy or girl can go to their debs with whatever partner/gender they choose, without anyone battling an eyelid . . . in an ideal world, that is." But he sees Enda's viewpoint, too. "Enda has been invaluable to BeLonG To. He's done so much promotion and fundraising, promoting it to the hilt. When people are second-guessing themselves, Enda says, 'Don't put yourself down. You can do this'."
Someone who did bring a member of the same sex to his debs as a date - and not to save on the ticket money - is Ayrton O'Brien (21), who went to school in Bray. Some of the students in his school knew Ayrton was gay, but for most it was an open secret. "I was very up and down," he says. "One week I was going and the next week I wasn't. There were close friends who were super, super supportive and others who could be doing their best, and there were guys who wouldn't be friends with me." He asked his friend Sandro to be his date. And Ayrton's parents? "Ah, yeah. They were grand. My parents are completely, super-supportive. The only hassle was that I had to leave everything to the last minute.
"At first, I thought it was important. Then I thought it wasn't important. Rite of passage sounds really super-dramatic. It's the end of school and it's more than just 'let's have a good party'. But it didn't really feel like that on the night. It was like the first time you were meeting people for the first time as adults."
Ayrton hoped other guys would go with guys, as mates. No such luck. "I ended up being the only guy who was bringing a guy. I walked in with butterflies in my stomach and I was a little bit scared and a little bit excited at the same time. As regards looks, I can actually remember two guys who did look at us. In some ways, all the girls there liked it. They danced around us like our shield. It was a really fun night, which was really good. It didn't finish until 5am and we got free breakfast and a free bus home."
His parents must have been quietly worried that night, even if they didn't let on. "Your parents always worry about you anyway," he says. "The only thing that they said was, 'Have a good night! And have fun.' And they all made it out that nothing bad was going to happen. The next day it was more like, 'How was the debs? And how was the head afterwards?' I had to get up at 11am the next morning to go to Dún Laoghaire for college. I was proper wrecked."
He and Addy are best mates. "I practically live in his house and I'm on the sofa every night. We're like Patty and Selma from The Simpsons. We go everywhere together." He is happy that Panti will be schoolmistress on prom night. "Panti says, 'If there was no Miss Jean Brodie, Panti wouldn't exist.' I'm on the prom committee and I'm thinking about all the sponsorship. I'm kind of scattery. I haven't thought about what to wear or who to bring or anything. I'm still really busy and psyched at the same time."
There have been some silver linings. Before John left school, a teacher asked him to make the graduation speech. "They'd never admit it, but they know you have more strength than they've ever had." And so he did. John told the school: "It just seems that everyone who got the spotlight in school were out on the Gaelic pitch. Where are the acknowledgments for the students who never got noticed?" There are empty chairs here for students who don't want to be here." He recalls: "I had a right to say it because I was one of those people. It was an honour, but it was horrible that it had to happen."
There will be few empty chairs tonight in the Mansion House. "There's always going to be an element of homophobia," John says. "That's why the prom is important. Despite the hardships, we've grown into very confident young men and women. We had the guile and guts to do this. Everyone is the same. At BeLonG To, I like to speak for the unspoken. I felt like my presence at my graduation itself was like a statement. At the Gay Prom, I can go and be myself and let my hair down. I don't have to put on a charade for anyone. I don't have to prove to other people that I belong. Because I do."
The Gay Prom 2008 takes place at the Mansion House in Dublin at 8pm tonight. Tickets from www.gcn.ie and www.belongto.org or at BeLonG To, 105 Capel St, Dublin 1, 01-8734184