But How Butch Are You?

Rasheed told me this story about two Iraqi gay men who had arrived in Lesbos a few months earlier. Processing for Iraqi men took much longer, and that was if they were lucky. They were gay, they explained to anyone who would listen. They had to leave Iraq because they would have been killed, maybe beheaded, stoned to death, you never knew. They were a couple. They had been together for eight years. They were a family with nowhere to go.

Well, no one seemed to believe them, Rasheed said. At first the couple assumed that it was because their English, though passable, was not up to par. They asked for a translator, but then the translator would cock his eyebrows whenever they said they were a couple. They would point to their rings, yet their application would go back to the bottom of the pile. They could not understand.

They watched as Syrian families were processed and moved to Athens on their way to new homes in Europe. They saw new couples arriving on the island and being given prime real estate inside the camps, while they had to sleep in a small tent in the olive grove outside Moria. It was cold and wet and muddy and awful. They wondered at the unfairness of it all. They had thought there would be less discrimination in Europe, that they could live more openly in the West.

And then Rasheed came along.

Done with his shift, he walked down the Moria runway.

“All right, I pranced down the hill,” he said. “Let’s say that the boys saw me, and right away one of them said hello. I turned around, and before me was my ultimate sexual fantasy. Mamma mia! I wanted to be sandwiched by those two gorgeous bears from Iraq. They were almost thirty years younger than me, but in my fantasy, they would find my aging body charming. We got to talking, they told me their story, and I was aghast. They explained that they were not sure what they’d been doing wrong. The boys had another interview the next day and were worried. I told them that I, gay superhero for the ages, would fix it.

“I took them with me to my hotel. No, shut up, it wasn’t what you think. I put them up in their own room. They were my people. I had to explain that they were having trouble because they were much too masculine. Of course, I had to listen to the usual but this is who we are, blah, blah, blah. I told them the system was unable to compute two masculine men in a relationship. They would have to femme it a little, just a little, or at least one of them had to. They panicked. Would they be able to do it? Could they pass? I told them not to worry. It wasn’t as if they were going out in drag. They didn’t really have to become feminine, only a touch less masculine. Gay superhero for the ages could help, no problem. They couldn’t decide who would become the less masculine one. I decided for them. Both, I told them. I had them shower, shave their beards, and yes, shave their chests and backs just in case. They spent an hour in the bathroom, and I could imagine what went on in that shower. When they were done, I took them down to the restaurant for dinner and showed them how they should behave, how not to overdo things. It was only little things, slight adjustments, instead of putting ankle over knee, it’s the back of one knee over the other. Very simple. Smile more often. You want whoever is talking to you to like you. No, not because you want them to process your application. You want them to like you because you’re a gay man. You get used to smiling because they have power over you, not just when it comes to an application. Wherever you go, they will have power over you. Appeasement is your friend. Always smile nervously. And for the coup de grace, I showed them the secret weapon. I told them that when they pointed to the rings, it had better be a certain way. I showed them Beyoncé’s video. Luckily, I only needed the first thirty-five seconds, because you know how slow the internet at the hotel is. My hero points to her hand and sings, “Put a ring on it.” I had them memorize how she moved her hands. I told them if they could Beyoncé, everyone would know they’re gay. Smile nervously and Beyoncé.

“They’re now in Berlin.”