All the fun of the fur...The Great British Bear Bash is back for its 17th year, but where did it come from?

Our guest blogger is Robert Martin.

Robert is a freelance marketing consultant, photographer and filmmaker who has worked for organisations such as Manchester International Festival, The Lowry, Cornerhouse, Creative Tourist and many more.

Find him on Facebook here.

This week he looks at the origins of the bear scene and recalls how it felt not to fit in with some of the excesses of '90s gay clubbing.

There was a time in the 1990s when you couldn’t go to a gay club without taking your top off.

One of the many unfortunate side effects of the hedonistic, drug-fuelled dance music excess of the time was the rise of that unfortunate institution, the gymnasium.

Younger readers may not actually believe it but there was a time when nobody belonged to a gym because the only ones that existed were in your school or at the council sports centre, and only body builders went to them. Gym culture and dance culture developed symbiotically, creating a whole new breed of people who needed to exercise to stay fit so that they could take vast quantities of drugs, dance for days on end, still hold down an actual job, then exercise some of the after effects off at the gym so that they could do it again. And again. And again…

In many gay clubs, where a new feeling of openness had also started to elbow its way in, often in the form of lots of straight people, more flesh was suddenly on show than there was at a Miss New Brighton contest, as lithe young men and women wanted to show everyone how unquestioningly beautiful their bodies were. Club dance floors seethed with water-guzzling, taught, defined, wide-eyed, clean shaven, totally hairless bodies, and everyone was attractive because they didn’t have an ounce of body fat between them.

Except…

I’d always liked bigger, hairier men myself. From Mr Briars, my moustachioed rugby teacher at school, to the hairy-chested models in my Mum’s catalogue, casually leaning against each other in their underwear, to the burly wrestlers of Saturday afternoon TV. And anyone with a beard who happened to be foreign, preferably middle-eastern, was much more up my ‘Danny la Rue’. Standing at the edge of the dance floor with my top most definitely on made me feel like this new aspect of the gay scene wasn't really for me.

Body fascism dominated gay clubbing in the 90s. It was a blight which saw many gay men and women ostracized from the very clubs that were supposed to be their own. I wasn’t interested in going to a gym, in taking drugs and dancing to awful music. And for a while, gay clubs started to become places where, if you were over 25, over 11 stone and had any hair on your face or body at all, you didn’t belong. But all was not lost.

Across the planet, packs started to gather in more traditional pubs, where (size L) checked shirts replaced, well, no shirt at all, and the atmosphere was welcoming, warm and furry.

Bears had, of course, always been there, but the body fascism of the 90s forced them into their own caves, craving the company of others who didn’t care that eating a pie had more appeal than an hour on a treadmill and who would never, ever, shave their chests.

Like a slightly more butch Goldilocks, I followed the bears to their lairs and, thank goodness, remembered what a nice place gay clubs used to be when you didn’t all have to look the same. Ironically of course, this realisation happened in clubs where almost everyone had a beard and was carrying a few extra pounds…

Bear culture grew and grew and is now big in more ways than one. Almost every gay destination has a bear pride event, cities have bear bars, and there’s a whole family that you can be part of – if you’re not an actual bear you might be a cub, an otter, a silver fox even! More like a petting zoo than a family, really.

Madrid has Madbear, Reykjavik has Bears On Ice and Manchester hosts two of the most enjoyable and fun bear events in Europe, the Great British Bear Bash and Pre-Hibearnation.

Based in and around the Village, the GBBB celebrates its 17th year this May, with events attracting burly chaps from all over the world. What sets it apart from other bear gatherings is the effort put in by the organisers to make sure that it’s a weekend about more than bars and clubbing, and Canal Street makes the perfect place for visitors to hang out throughout the day.

What goes around certainly comes around and, for a while, a parallel bear body fascism started to show its ugly shaven head on the bear scene but it feels like balance has been restored and the Great British Bear Bash, for bears, chubbies, muscle bears and their admirers, goes from strength to strength.

Grrrr, as the bears say!

Find out more about the 17th Great British Bear Bash here.

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Marriage Equality

March's guest blogger is Robert Martin.

Robert is a freelance marketing consultant who has worked for organisations such as Manchester International Festival, The Lowry, Cornerhouse, Creative Tourist and many more.

Find him on Facebook here.
He met his partner in Cornerhouse 23 years ago and they've been together in Manchester ever since.  In that time they have seen many changes in the 'gay village' and in the status of LGBT communities.

On the 29 March 2014, the first ever same sex marriages will take place in England and Wales. 'At last', I hear you shout!

Marriage equality in England and Wales will be followed by the same in Scotland later in the year. Northern Ireland has no plans to introduce it, but does allow Civil Partnerships, which were made legal in the UK in December 2005.

That December, I was in a car traveling to see a friend for her birthday, and my partner was driving. On the radio, the news said that Civil Partnerships would, from early 2006, allow gay couples the same legal rights as everyone else who was in a marriage. The only difference would be the name and the fact that there’d be no place for religion in the proceedings.

By that time, my partner and I had already been together for 16 years. We had a house, families who loved us, jobs we were ourselves in… in other words, we had a very normal life. I turned to my partner and uttered the romantic words, ‘Shall we then?’ ‘Yes OK, why not?’ came the reply, and we drove on. Later, we asked each other properly as the gravity of the situation became a reality.

The following April, 140 friends and family joined us in what was, for most people, their first Civil Partnership. That day felt like it was about so much more than just me and my partner. It genuinely felt like we were all taking part in and celebrating a piece of history. For anyone who had grown up in the shadow of ‘the gay plague’, who had marched against Thatcher’s infamous Clause 28, outlawing the ‘promotion’ of homosexuality in the classroom as a valid way of living, who had come out in a world where there were NO gay characters in TV soaps and the gay scene still consisted of shadowy doorways, dingy bars and the distinct possibility of getting beaten up on the way out, Civil Partnerships felt like validation, like the rights and acknowledgement which LGBT communities had been fighting for for so long were finally coming.

So now, years later, loads of us have done it! Society hasn't fallen apart and the traditional family continues to thrive, despite what some of the more concerned members of the population thought... The thing is though, it’s such a mouthful. I mean, what am I supposed to say? What’s my status? I am Civil Partnered? That’s not quite English, I think… We are in a Civil Partnership? Clumsy. Can I call him my husband if we’re not married?

In reality, most gay couples who have had a Civil Partnership describe themselves as 'married' and, later in the year, once the government figure out how to make it work, we’ll be able to transfer officially to being married without having to have another ceremony or having to buy a new hat.

For some gay couples, the appeal of Civil Partnerships is in the fact that it IS different from marriage, from what straight people do, and once marriage equality becomes the norm, that choice will remain as Civil Partnerships won’t disappear. And there’s the point. Choice.

It matters so much. I’m lucky. I’ve lived in Manchester since I came here to University in 1985. It has always been a city which has stood up for, promoted and encouraged an open and inclusive attitude towards its LGBT inhabitants and visitors. Manchester’s Canal Street and the world famous Gay Village have been a beacon of gay equality for as long as I can remember, and the city, with events such as Pride, Sparkle, the Great British Bear Bash and so many more, continues to show its commitment to supporting equality.

But liberty is a fragile thing. There are places, some not too far from home, where such liberties have never existed or are taking backward steps. Indeed, there are 83 countries at the moment where homosexuality is still illegal, and 5 which will put us to death for being gay.

So the choices we now have can’t be taken for granted and must be seen within the context of the bigger picture. The fight for true equality continues but, for now, we can celebrate the fact that the children who will be our next generation of gay men and women will see their right to marriage as the norm, here in Manchester and most of the UK.

And that’s worth shouting about.

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Welcome back

It has been a while! Have you missed us?

As Spring approaches, the Manchester Gay Village blog returns with regular posts from guest bloggers, focussing on different aspects of LGBT life which affect communities within Manchester and beyond.

In the first of these, we'll be looking at marriage equality, so watch out for that a little later on.