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Back to Redefining the Tribe, or back to the Main Menu... In my direct observation, gay leathermen over a certain age (Baby-Boomers and above) are ALL going through burnout to some degree, and if we aren't, then we probably aren't paying enough attention. The trouble is, we tend to think that only one person is going through it (each one of us), while everybody else is doing just FINE. This is not the case. I've always been extra-sensitive to my own feelings, and if I don't feel up to something that is facing me, then I tend to withdraw. Well, that speaks for a lot of people. I've had a good amount of direct experience with sex and power-play, relationships and what people want from me, and vice versa. Now that I've reached a certain point, I find myself impatient with people, activities or expectations that don't add value to my life. Perhaps it's just a symptom of an extended mid-life crisis, or just a healthy interest in my own well-being. I've learned from the deaths of so many of my tribe that life is just too damned short, period. Tomorrow is promised to no one, and I don't want to spend the rest of my life being distracted by situations that drain me. The pressure that has built up within us over the years from the grief, losses and disappointments over the years may seem insurmountable - It feels like we are locked in behind a thick wall of our own creation, and not even dynamite can break down that wall. So, here is some good news: I assert that the wall we protect ourselves with can disappear in a moment, with the lightest touch. In order for our barriers to drop, we have to be available for joy. There's a deep hunger in the souls of so many in our generation for SOME reason to have hope, but what we really want is joy. By this, I mean belly-laughs, huge grins that erupt across our faces because we can't help it, and a break from the dreary reality of our life as it has been. There are many reasons for us to be sad. We all know that. I got tired of giving in to the sorrow, so I have created a safe space for joy to arrive, right on cue, every time - at a weekly dance-party called Rampart. Every Friday afternoon, I take a "Disco Nap." I want to be fresh and perky, because every Friday night at 10:30 PM, I arrive at Shooterz (at 30th and University) and get the Rampart Leather Tribe dance party started. I greet and acknowledge people all night long, and we dance with wild abandon. It's not uncommon for me to speak directly with over 100 folks during the course of the evening. An outside observer would probably think that this would drain my energy, but the effect is actually the opposite. I'm energized by the honest pleasure experienced by so many people - I will stay as high as a kite on endorphins for days. Rampart has been my ongoing, weekly "lab experiment" since February 1999. I have refused payment for the work that I do there, because I don't want anyone to think that I have a hidden, suspect profit-motive for gathering people together. I am the host. The staff and owner are happy to provide the space, and then stay well out of my way. I suggested the concept to the owner of the bar a long time ago, saying that we needed to enter into a new phase. The current "circuit-queen" culture is unhealthy - The emphasis on exterior perfection, drug-use, casual, faceless sex and lack of interpersonal connection is the opposite of nurturing. The "A-List" mentality is fine for those who can fit in, but the unspoken message underneath it says that if you aren't Mister Perfect, then you must be infesting the wrong planet. At Rampart, I have created a safe space where people are valued for themselves, individually. The people who are the happiest there are the folks who have allowed their true, childlike, joyful natures out, and they never get slapped down for it - only honest approval from the folks around them. The way that I describe it, Rampart is not a drinking thing (I never see anybody who is heavily intoxicated), it's not a competition-thing, it's not a heavy-duty meat-market with a hook underneath it (a lot of couples show up, since it's fun for them), and it's not a drug thing - It's a joyful thing. Not everybody gets it right away, but most do, eventually. Many new folks arrive with great suspicion - They have had bad experiences in the past, and they show up wearing their favorite suit of armor, such as a grim facial expression, or by hiding in the shadows. They're expecting that they won't fit in - They're carrying the baggage of worrying that they are too fat, too bald, too old, too nellie, too vanilla, too black, too female, too straight, too whatever. Instead of being ignored like so many times before, they get the exact opposite: I approach each new person, place my hand in a non-threatening, non-sexual spot on their back just below their neck, and speak quietly into their ear. I say "Have I spoken with you yet?", which usually causes them to back up, look at my face, and say "No, I don't think so." I then approach them again, and quietly give them the following, standard Welcoming Message: "I'm Tony, and I'm the host of this shindig - I don't get paid for it, so please don't think that this is a sales-pitch. What you need to know is that you have found the right place. You belong here, and we are glad to have you here. Welcome." These are simple words, and they cannot be misunderstood - there is no possible way to find a hidden meaning in between the lines. When was the last time that you heard them? They are part of a conscious initiation ceremony, and they are utterly sincere, every single time. To repeat the viewpoint expressed above this, many people have kept their hearts protected behind storm-doors, and many times, all they need to open those doors and dance into the light is a simple act of permission-giving. That personal touch is as light as a feather, and most times, that's all it takes to bring the walls crashing down. That's my job, and it's a job that is greatly needed. To mix metaphors, many of our hearts are like a pendulum that has been stuck in one extreme position for too long - It's ready to swing widely and then find its balance-point in a new position. I will then continue on to tell each new person how to request music from the friendly DJ, and that it's not necessary to wait for somebody to dance with - everybody is dancing with everyone else, but if they feel shy, I will be glad to dance with them. I say that there is no attitude allowed there, and there is no "A-list" - all are welcome. By saying these words, I'm setting up the rules for behavior, and creating a safe space within those rules, where people can play like happy children. By 11:30 PM, all you can see around the dance-floor is teeth - Hundreds of them. People are grinning hugely, from ear to ear, simply because they can't help it. The crowd erupts with hoots and hollers when they hit Diva Overload, they'll blow whistles, play tambourines, do the fan-dance with a t-shirt, and dry-hump each other to the beat. The music makes this easy, since 140-beat-per-minute Techno music is banned for that whole night - The music played at Rampart covers the whole range from 1975 to the present, but only if the music is fun, with actual divas, actual melodies and actual lyrics. There's a wide variety of styles and rhythms. In the last six months, I have only had to throw two people out, and that was only because they were being whiny cry-babies, annoying everybody around them. Nothing pleased them, and all attempts to attend to their needs were rejected, so I just chased 'em out, telling them to come back when they have a winning attitude. My favorite part of every Friday is spotting the folks who "blossom" suddenly. Someone who I had seen being shy and careful when they first arrived, erupting into an ecstatic dancer and being admired by everyone around them. This tells me that they "got it" - They finally accepted the truth in the play-space we have all created together. They realized that they really ARE welcome, just as they are, and nobody is going to scorn them if they let their true selves out. We discover some surprising superstars there each week. So, there you have it - a play-space that actually nourishes the soul, doesn't make you feel bad after indulging deeply, and recharges you for the rest of the week. The best part about all of this is that it's true - Hundreds of deeply satisfied folks will tell you the same thing, and the word is getting out. On a typical Friday night, I'll greet between 30 and 50 new folks, and nearly all have heard about the event from a friend. That's the best kind of advertising. A simple dance-party isn't the be-all and end-all answer to everything, and we still have the rest of our week to deal with. However, Rampart is a very good "decompression chamber" for folks who haven't been involved with the community for years, and have wanted to know when it was going to be safe to come back. I'm ringing a metaphorical little bell, saying "Come on out again - you won't be hurt here." My theories about our need for joy are being proven, week after week, and the process is so simple - It doesn't take hard work for our community to come together. We just need a safe space, and somebody to give us permission. It's time to enter the next phase... Onward to Forty or Fifty Nicoles...

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