“THE TERMS gents, bad boys, and barbarians have, in a way, nothing to do with the poets themselves or their works; and I certainly don’t intend them to be indicators of how a writer should or should not write. Think of them, rather, as impressions that might be drawn, tendencies that seem to point in a certain direction, personas that only assume shape and dimension in reference to those of some other poets.” – Rudy Kikel, Editor.
Gents, Bad Boys, & Barbarians: New Gay Male Poetry is an anthology of poetry written by gay men that reflects their lives, passions, and losses, offering insight into their unique experiences. Published in 1995, editor Rudy Kikel (sadly, now deceased) compiled a gritty, visceral, and occasionally profane collection of contemporary, at the time, own-voices poets. This collection is Lord Byron on steroids.
Explore the rich tapestry of young love, first desires, and lasting passions. Immerse yourself in the poignant exploration of themes such as self-discovery, survival, and the profound impact of AIDS, as conveyed through the evocative and compelling poetry of thirty-nine gifted gay male poets.
I vividly remember the day I purchased this book: June 1995, during Pride weekend, my first. I’d visited Glad Day Bookshop on Yonge St. in Toronto, Canada, with friends before the parade. Glad Day holds the distinction of being the oldest queer bookstore in the world. It was only my second visit to the store, and the experience remains etched in my memory. I recall a friend of mine expressing disapproval at my decision to buy a book of poems, regardless of whether it was gay-themed or not. (“Who reads poetry!?!) As an English Major at the University of Guelph at the time, I did so quite frequently.
This book, with its pink and blue colours and evocative, playful title, grabbed my notice the second I saw it. Sorry, Armistead Maupin, but you got overshadowed that day.
The powerful collection’s content, themes, and emotional resonance are timeless and will absolutely connect with gay/queer men today. However, there’s a distinct flavour of the era in which these works originate that cannot be denied. I see it, I feel it, and it can be, at times, depressing, even infuriating. Within the pages, there is a profound exploration of complex and challenging themes, including self-hatred, internalized homophobia, remorse for past bad decisions, and experiences of sexual abuse, among many others.
Furthermore, the weight of the AIDS epidemic casts a significant shadow over several pieces, capturing the fear of mortality and the anxiety of living with this life-altering disease; this is a time before PrEP and modern antiretroviral therapies, where an HIV diagnosis could still mean a death sentence.
These poems are raw and sometimes brutal to read. The language is rarely flowery; it’s unapologetic and often lewd. These poems range from the highly erotic to the heart-wrenching. They depict many experiences that I have never had and will never have. These poems are a bloodletting, a way for these men to showcase their relationship to pain and passion, social fear and sexual freedom, and authenticity versus the closet of repression.
Today, as it was back in 1995, for many queer men, myself included, often the only universal connector we have is that we are gay/queer men in a world that doesn’t universally accept us. But that is rarely enough to boldly state that we are the same. Intellectually, I comprehend different experiences, and emotionally, I have compassion and feel a bond, but I cannot always relate. It is through collections like this that I discover the vast rainbow of queer male life.
Anyone looking to educate themselves on gay/queer male experiences, particularly pre-Millennium, even if just for entertainment, should explore this collection—thoughtfully! However, speaking as a gay man, these poems provide a source of fellowship and understanding for gay/queer men like myself, exposing us to both shared and unfamiliar experiences. Gents, Bad Boys, and Barbarians: New Gay Male Poetry is a medium by which we may immerse ourselves in the unique gay backgrounds of other men within a literal literary-safe-space.
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