Alex Hopkins looks at the obsession with creating the perfect body and asks, how important is a guy's body when you're thinking about dating him?
What sort of male bodies were you surrounded by when you were a child? I’ve been thinking about this question quite a bit recently. You see, I’m trying More… to understand where gay men’s ideas of what a body should look like might come from. It wasn’t until I was in my teens that I became aware of the developing bodies of my peers. I still remember the first sight of Kevin Bishop’s huge pubic bush in the shower - a glimpse which, I’m sure, fuelled the realization that I was gay. But mutant pubic hair and growing penises aside, not once do I remember encountering anything bordering on the bulked out, disproportionate figure of the 'Muscle Mary,' or someone who resembled a walnut jammed into a condom, that so many gay men appear to aspire to.
Then there was the body of my father. Isn’t this the first male body that we see as children? He was masculine, strong and confident with a body that made me feel safe, but was far from being buff or anything that resembled a gym body. All of the other dads around the neighborhood were the same: ordinary looking men - a far cry from the immaculately toned Greek gods that dominate the gay scene.
I can think of no other group of people who judge their bodies, and other people’s, as harshly as gay men. Perhaps, on some level, we’re trying to prove that we’re just as good - if not much better - than our fathers, or to the boys in the playground who consistently ignored us whenever they played football. But the extremes that many gay men go to in pursuit of the body beautiful seem endless - and more and more alarming.
Body Perfect?
Body dysmorphic disorder in gay men is now at its zenith, with many feeling under stifling pressure to conform to a particular type and achieve a perceived level of perfection, which is increasingly difficult - and destructive - to sustain. If we’re not down the gym four to five days a week and monitoring every calorie like an athlete, we feel that we’ve failed. And then, of course, there are the warped preconceptions of heterosexual people. How many times have you heard a straight woman cry, "It’s not fair! All you gay guys have the hottest bodies!"? Yawn.
The rise of the commercial online world - particularly mobile apps - has had a tremendous impact on gay men’s body image. One only has to log on to an app to be inundated with demands for 'no fats, no fems' and 'gym fit only.' The proliferation of gleaming, apparently perfect naked torso shots has raised the bar on what the ideal body should look like - no matter that many of these photographed bodies appear to be headless and that seeing the eyes is, they say, a gateway to the soul. We’re living in an age where immediacy is everything, a swipe-through era often devoid of meaningful connection and interaction, in which a 'personality' is allowed only 40 characters in which to express itself - and what it desires. Those who claim that no part of them judges a person’s online profile on the look of a body are, I would suggest, lying. Sadly, we are becoming socially - and technologically - conditioned to place frequently digitally enhanced aesthetics ahead of any authenticity.
But we do have a choice. We can challenge how we view our bodies and other gay men’s. Perhaps it starts with this question: how many of the owners of those muscular bodies - those dance and sex machines - that we see in the clubs at the weekend are genuinely content? It has always astounded me how many gay men have the outer bodies of a warrior - an Incredible Hulk - but are falling apart on the inside under the weight of unaddressed self-loathing and an insatiable demand for affirmation. I’ve looked on incredulous as I’ve seen men ingest what looks like cleaning fluid, alone in the dark corners of clubs, when I know they consume little more than protein shakes throughout the week. None of it makes sense - but it does destroy: just look at the rise in HIV rates and chemsex on the scene as gay men take ever greater risks with those magnificent physiques to be adored. I recall a recent exchange, in the early hours of the morning outside a club, with a man with the body of an Adonis, but the face and attitude of one of the witches from MacBeth. He glanced dismissively at a slender man who possessed the kindest, loveliest eyes I had seen that night. "My body is a temple. His is a shanty town," he laughed, pointing dismissively at the other guy. "Possibly," I replied. "But who is starving to death inside?"

Is stating "no Blacks, no Asians" on a dating profile acceptable? No, argues Alex Hopkins. It's sexual racism and needs to be challenged.
"I’m not racist. It’s my preference and I’ve got a right to express it." This was the reply I received on a gay hookup app when I challenged a member about More… his profile text: "No Blacks, no Asians. Whites only."
I’m not in the habit of confronting other gay men about what they write on their profiles. Live and let live, and all that. But after seeing at least 10 other taglines which employed similar language, I’d had enough. "Sexual racism" - the use of language in a way which excludes, generalises and belittles - to define sexual taste is an unpleasant by-product of our internet age. The time had come for me to call people out on it.
What is racism?
Was the person who wrote this racist? From a few words alone it is perhaps not possible to ascertain if the writer habitually practises racist behaviour, but by using words which segregate on the basis of ethnic background, that person is drawing upon a set of judgments already made about a person - an individual they do not know - based purely on the colour of his skin. Words may come cheap, but they are also powerful: prejudice only becomes part of the legislature when it is written down, and is thereby sanctioned. When you’re hiding behind the anonymity of a computer screen it’s easier to lapse into abuse: casually racist language sucks us into the myth of separatism, into treating other races as inferior. Is having “no blacks” emblazoned across the top of your bulging torso picture any less dangerous than a “whites only” sign on a beach in Apartheid South Africa?
“My type”
A common defense of “sexual racism” is that the person who exhibits it is merely stating his sexual preference. Gay men, some argue, have fought endless battles to be able to loudly proclaim their right to have sex with anyone they choose. Their sexual preferences are sacred - even if they contradict other beliefs they claim to have.
Gay male history has largely been shaped by persecution based upon sexual desire. How bizarre then that now that gay men have won unprecedented rights in the eyes of the law some feel that they have the right to mark out others for vilification. The problem with rights is that when those who have been deprived of them for so long finally start to win them, they often become rather forgetful and self-righteous about who else deserves them.
Being “honest” about the “type” of person you want to have sex with (another tedious, common defense) perpetuates a racist ideology that enforces another hierarchy, a pecking order that implies some people are more human - and thereby worthy of attention - than others. If you are so rigid and narrow-minded in your preferences that you can’t possibly entertain men from other races, why not exercise some sensitivity by stating who you prefer to date rather than saying ‘no blacks’, or just remain silent on the issue? To do anything else not only reeks of white-male privilege, but more more tellingly still, points to a person who is so appalled by the vision of people with darker skin, that they feel compelled to speak out and denigrate them.
Hurt
Imagine being told that you don’t live up to someone else’s ideal - that you’re unwanted, useless, fit only to be ignored or discarded. And then imagine being told this repeatedly. What impact would that have on your self-esteem? Were you one of those many gay men who was bullied as a child for being different? Too feminine, maybe? Not being good enough at football? Many of us were and those experiences scar. Casual racism is no different.
The internet is an immensely powerful tool. There is no quicker and more efficient way to spread information and influence attitudes. Racism, as history has shown, often begins quietly: a disparaging remark here, an act of exclusion there. It gathers momentum as it attracts more followers, as it silently infiltrates the collective psyche. Preconceptions drive it. None of us are born with these; they accumulate over time, based on what we hear, see or read. The recent images of US police officers attacking black men have been founded not on the reality that those black men were carrying weapons, but a warped belief that they are predisposed to violence. We all have the choice - and responsibility - to call people out on these ideas before they become endemic.
Keeping your options open
How many of us can say that we have always been sexually attracted to one type of man? Sexual tastes change over time. At 18 my first sexual experiences were predominantly with white men, but years later my bedroom would, at certain points, resemble a particularly lively meeting of delegates from the Brazilian consulate.
Being human is about being open to new experiences. Desire - unpredictable, uncontrollable, all-consuming and maddening - is forever changing as we question and grow. How many of us can confidently state - in the same dogmatic way in which we insist on a certain shade of skin - that if we were to get to know a person from one of those ethnic groups we’ve been so quick to close our minds to - that we may not fall in love with someone completely new and exciting? And how unexpected and wonderful that could be.Take part in our Poll

Is it acceptable to state that you're not interested in camp/fem men on dating profiles? Or is this a form of discrimination? Alex Hopkins takes a look at hostility towards camp gay men within the LGBT community.
It was just another Friday night out in the gay village. We’d reached “Shot o’clock” More… and were hitting the Sambuca and ogling hot Latinos as they whipped off their tops and danced with wild abandon. The guy we’d found ourselves chatting to wasn’t doing too badly in the muscle department either – and he knew it: each time he picked up his low-calorie beer he made a point of flexing his biceps. Still, none of us were complaining.
Then everything changed. He banged down his drink and with a look of searing contempt pointed aggressively across the bar at a young, slim guy who was cavorting outrageously to a mashup of Beyonce’s I’m a Single Lady. “Camp queens like that make me sick! They shouldn’t be allowed out.” The barely contained hate and rage in his voice temporarily stunned me, but I collected myself and challenged him: what exactly was his objection? Why should he be so offended by a stranger’s mannerisms? I watched as he mumbled, his macho façade crumbled and then he flounced off, ranting incoherently about “rancid camp queens.”
Hostile attitudes
It had been an unpleasant experience, but not a particularly surprising one. Over the last year, a number of friends have had similar confrontations with “camp-phobia” in bars and clubs. And this is to say nothing of the many profiles on dating sites and hookup apps that demand “no fems” and “straight acting only.” The evidence is clear: there’s an increased lack of acceptance among gay men towards “camp” gay men; indeed, I’d go as far as saying that attitudes are often outright hostile. Why is this happening?
Camp reputation
Camp has played a vital role in gay culture, worldwide. It’s part of our heritage, but it’s always had a dodgy reputation. Gay men may love a drag queen, but how many of them would date one? Camp was an important signifier: it marked us out to one another, but simultaneously – and more ominously – it also served as the barometer by which the straight world identified us and marked us out for persecution.
Before the guy in the bar swept off (in what was actually a diva strop that would have put Diana Ross to shame), he spluttered something about camp gay men being an anachronism, adding two words I absolutely loathe: “blend in.” The worldwide march towards equal marriage is rightly celebrated. If straight people can get married, then why shouldn’t gays? But there’s a part of me that has always been ambivalent about gay marriage. Why are we adopting what is essentially a heterosexual power structure? Are we just conforming? And, if so, what do we lose out on?
Superficial judgements
The increased zeal of the anti-camp brigade is in some ways, I would suggest, a by-product of equal marriage. As we continue to gain the same rights as heterosexuals the gay community risk losing track of the interesting, unique types of behavior that we’ve created to relate to one another. Instead, the pressure’s on to become “straight acting” and “discrete.” Where to begin with what’s wrong with these terms? Well, the little clue in the first is the word “acting” and there’s more than a hint of shame and internalized homophobia about “discrete” hookups. Trust me, I’ve been on plenty.
But another thing we need to look at here is the often incredibly harsh ways that gay men assess themselves and their peers. Sometimes it seems as if we’re following some kind of gay curriculum, to be marked mercilessly by a parade of Abercrombie and Fitch wearing 24-7 sex machines. Too frequently our judgments of one another are based on superficial images and ideas of adhering to tedious, and frankly outdated, forms of masculinity. The irony is that as we desperately try to butch up and pass as straight, we are often hiding our real selves; moreover, we’re rigidly policing ourselves – no lapses into limp wrists or mincing – in much the same way as mainstream society once policed and prosecuted us. How incredibly sad that is.
Strength in individuality
It’s time for us to re-embrace our individuality. Camp does not equal weakness, but at its best defines something extraordinary and thought-provoking. It celebrates difference, something which can seem like a rude word in today’s gay world. Camp in its real sense means doing something utterly outlandish; something that resonates with real passion. There’s power to be found in this kind of behavior: it’s brave and transformative. Let’s start investing in this and see where it takes us. We can begin by just accepting someone who doesn’t look and act like everyone else on the dance floor.