“Confusion is a luxury which only the very, very young can possibly afford and you are not that young anymore.”
This comment was casually thrown at David, who is sitting at a bar in 1950s Paris with a friend. David is the protagonist in arguably the most path-breaking queer books of all time—Giovanni’s Room.
The world recently celebrated the centennial birth anniversary of James Baldwin, a writer known for Go Tell It On The Mountain, remembering him for his achievements and anti-race advocacy.
Giovanni’s Room, published in 1956, takes the reader on a journey of queer discovery, longing, loneliness, and finally acceptance. David, an American man in his mid-20s, is in the so-called ‘city of love’ Paris, while his mistress, and eventual fiance, is vacationing in Spain to ‘think about life’.
The book, although published sixty-eight years ago and forty-five years before the birth of this writer, remains relevant to this day.
While reading about how David falls in love with Giovanni, an Italian barman, and grapples with both the confusion of the flesh and the mind to find himself is one of the most defining traits of almost all queer experiences in the world.
So why does a novel written so long ago, by an author so different from a 23-year-old gay Indian, hit home?
Thread of Queer Commonality
David, throughout the book (barring the end), experiences a deep sense of confusion and loneliness, characteristic of almost all queer people. He is in a relationship with Hella, a woman, and simultaneously falls deep in love with the handsome and charming Giovanni.
In the Indian context, this rings true for a lot of queer people who are either forced or coerced to be in heterosexual relationships and who then try to ignore the callings of their hearts and, in turn, lead double lives.
In more than one instance, David tries to ‘make himself’ straight by either sleeping with a woman or trying to run away from Paris to forget Giovanni and this duplicitous life. The constant war he wages with himself is a defining trait of all queer people. The war within is the hardest.
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This writer feigned crushes on multiple female classmates to appear ‘normal’ or fit in with the crowd.
In 1950s Paris, David tried to hide his sexuality, and in the 2010s, this writer tried to hide his queerness too, in turn denying every iteration of it. Trying to become less of a “fairy” (a derogatory term used in the book) and more of ‘a man’.
The common thread of queer denial and longing is what continues to make the book relevant.
Internalised queer phobia
Internalised queerphobia and self-hate is often an inborn trait of queer people, especially in India. David, in the fictional setting of Paris imagined by Baldwin, had examples of gay men in bars to turn to, how much ever vilified and policed they were. Most young Indians did not have that.
Quite similar to the Stonewall Inn, the fictional bar where David first set his eyes on Giovanni is also eventually raided after Giovanni commits a crime.
The raids are proof of what any person slightly different from the norm fears—the inert dread that queer folx experience every time one goes even near a police station.
Every time this writer hangs out with his queer friends and openly ‘looks gay’, the demon called self-hate rears its head and shouts, ‘People on the metro are staring,’ ‘don’t act so gay,’ or ‘act like a man.’
Also read: Love Starts with you — Fighting Internalised Homophobia
Ironically, David, and through him, James Baldwin, calls people around him dressed flamboyantly as ‘grotesque’ and strives to not be seen with them. He detests men who pay other men to touch them while doing the same thing with a woman to prove his ‘normalcy.’
This hypocrisy is still found at the heart of the Indian queer community, if a homogenous structure like that even exists. It is exhibited every time one secretly laughs at a ‘feminine man’ or a ‘manly woman’. What we are doing in those moments is actually laughing at our own insecurities and secretly envying this freedom.
Hurting people to heal oneself?
When there are unhealed wounds within, you’ll lash out at others. This stands true for us queer folks too, because when we are not at ease with ourselves, we tend to find faults in others and, in turn, lose out on those who truly love us. For David, that was Gulliarme, a rich, large, and kind-hearted man who knew that he was being used but kept on funding Giovanni’s expenses in Paris.
Giovanni and David continue to leech off ‘old men’ like Gulliarme throughout the book, never once realizing that they are actual human beings. This writer admits that he still does this with his family from time to time. The stress of being different becomes too much at times and one erupts on others.
What Giovanni discovers later is what a lot of us discover too—the kinder we are to ourselves, the more we love those who are kind to us.
The wounds you inflict on yourself are often visible on the backs of others as well.
Timeliness of the text
What is striking is not just the relatability, but the cool detachment with which David moves through the story, finally culminating in a dramatic ‘coming out’ and the resultant exposure of all aspects of his life. This sudden light on the darkest aspects of one’s life is what makes the queer experience so sudden and shocking. When this writer came out, all of his hidden secrets were aired in public view for judgement. Each criticism and praise was felt deeply, and all he could do was stand and watch the cards fall as they may.
It is both freeing and exhausting. A sense of infant-like helplessness descends on you, as it did on David. Especially in the last few lines of the book when he finally tastes freedom, but it is tinged with sadness. Maybe the trial by fire is necessary to be truly free. But do the burn marks truly fade? That’s for all of us to think about.
