As someone who regularly (and vehemently) disagrees with the American government and rolls her eyes at gaudy displays of patriotism, I am honestly surprised at how much I love the Olympics and how I find myself welling up as American athletes stand triumphantly on the medal podiums. But I am not ashamed of my unabashed love of figure skating. I don't care how cheesy it may be or how much it may be mocked by those who consider themselves "real" sports fans. I fuckin' love it. There, I'm out.

Apparently, however, 21-year-old American skater Johnny Weir is actually causing chatter over, well, not being out. Yes, figure skating is a sport that is often identified with women and men in sequins. And Johnny - who had been a strong medal contender but placed a tough fifth place this week - is about as fantastically flamboyant as they come. He wears designer sunglasses and fur gloves, he listens to Christina Aguilera, and he proclaims that "Republican-style people are very afraid of what I mean to the sport." But - and god love him for it - he doesn't think it's any of our damn business what his sexual orientation is.

"People talk," Weir answered. "Figure skating is thought of as a female sport, something that only girly men compete in. I don't feel the need to express my sexual being because it's not part of my sport and it's private. I can sleep with whomever I choose and it doesn't affect what I'm doing on the ice, so speculation is speculation. I like nice things, and beautiful things, so if that is the only way people are determining that I swing one way or the other, then to me, that's sad. You can't judge a book by it's cover, ever. . . . I am who I am, and I don't need to justify anything to anyone."

Hank Stuever of The Washington Post eloquently uses Johnny's outspoken attitude, unapologetic manner, and hot fuckin' skating to spin this all into a lesson that more parents need to learn (though perhaps a little more generally):

Let him prance around in whatever he likes, practice triple axels on roller skates in the driveway, and marvel at his tastes and abilities. Tell him it doesn't matter what the kids at school say. Tell him he can do whatever he sets his mind to. Teach him about honesty and self-criticism. Let him find himself. He might possibly grow up and reward you, not only with infinite gratitude, but with the sort of success that comes from sheer force of will: an Olympic medal, someday, or some cute thing he bought from Fendi in duplicate -- one for you, and one for him.

These are all things Weir's mother, the equally outspoken Patti, did.

She raised a kid who would grow up to nickname himself "J. We" and "Tinkerbelle" and tell Sports Illustrated that his only other ambitions right now are to own an apartment in either Chelsea or Soho and start his own fashion line. At home, in Quarryville, Pa., bullies at the rink would shoot hockey pucks at Johnny while he practiced, Patti Weir told the New York Times. "I raised him to speak his mind, even if it's about me," she said.

Weir has done what so many oddballs, gay or straight, raised by understanding mamas and papas in the sticks, have done -- he became a cultural omnivore. He loves hotels, he loves high fashion, he loves being in the world as opposed to shutting himself off. He's learning Russian. He names his costumes. He is complicated, self-aware to a maximum degree, and he loathes being misunderstood.

[...]

Mamas, let your babies grow up to be figure skaters.

Amen.

sometimesaway

Portland, OR

June 2005

FEB 17, 2006 06:14 PM

That's fucking awesome! Thanks.

alpo

Portland, OR

OLD SKOOL

FEB 17, 2006 06:35 PM

quad axle?