Gay Twitter was aflutter when @_kxdyn had the temerity to ask:
“How many tops are tops, and how many tops are just gay with IBS?"
The tweet triggered an avalanche of emotional responses. Some of our faves:
The Imodium tops are gonna cancel you
I’m a top because of market forces
The homophobia is coming from inside the house
But after the laughter died down we were left wondering--how do gay men decide if they're tops, bottoms, versatiles or sides?
Is it even a conscious decision?
Let's take a look at what the research and what some psychologists think.
First, let's get our terminology right. A "top" personifies the assertive (or insertive as the case may be) participant in sexual activity. Take Alan, an investment banker in New York City. "It's a role of control for me," he shares, the intensity of Wall Street echoing in his bedroom dynamic.
On the contrary, a "bottom" assumes a more receptive role. Consider Rafael, a teacher from Sao Paulo. He smiles, "I prefer to surrender, to experience rather than dictate."
Those who identify as "versatile" balance between these roles, embodying the push and pull of sexual energy. Sanjay, an artist from Mumbai, describes it as "an ever-changing dance, where the rhythm decides the lead."
Preferences, subtle or overt, stem from an intricate web of psychological, biological, and sociocultural influences.
Psychologically, a study published in the Archives of Sexual Behavior found that certain personality traits might correlate with these roles. Tops, like Alan, often display dominance and assertiveness. Conversely, Rafael, a bottom, might exhibit a more easygoing, accommodating personality. Versatiles like Sanjay strike a harmony, with a propensity for open-mindedness.
Biology, too, weaves into the story. Research from the Queen Mary University of London suggests a potential link between fraternal birth order and male sexual orientation.
Sociocultural influences cannot be overlooked. Community norms, societal expectations, and cultural pressures often shape our choices and perceptions. Rafael adds, "In Brazil, masculinity is often equated with being a top. It took me years to be comfortable with my preference."
An online survey by Queerty involving 10,000 participants revealed that 38% identified as versatile, 32% as bottoms, and 30% as tops. This surprising near-equality underscores the diversity within the gay community.
Interestingly, in cities like New York and San Francisco, the data tilted towards versatiles, hinting at urban subculture dynamics.
Individual narratives paint a vivid picture of the complex interplay between personal experiences, community, and these roles.
Adam, a top from Manchester, voices, "I didn't 'choose' to be a top any more than I chose to be gay. It just felt right." This sentiment resonates with many in the gay community, pointing to the natural evolution of their sexual identities.
Amidst these definitions and data, let's not forget the inherent fluidity of human sexuality. Sexual roles aren't etched in stone. Versatility, in its literal and metaphorical sense, often prevails.
Meet Ben, who used to identify as a bottom but now sees himself as versatile. "It was about exploring and understanding myself better," he reflects. This sentiment reiterates the fluid nature of these roles, echoing the diverse spectrum of human sexuality.
Let's roll up our sleeves and get to the heart of a not-so-fun issue – the shame some gay men feel about being bottoms. It's a head-scratcher, right? Why should a preference be steeped in shame?
Cultural expectations, stereotypes, and misconceptions, come on down! You're the not-so-lucky contestants in this blame game.
Meet Diego, a charismatic social worker from Argentina. As a bottom, he's wrestled with his fair share of shame. "In my culture," he shares, "there's this idea that the bottom is 'less manly' – it's ridiculous and hurtful."
Diego's not alone. Remember Wei from Beijing? He, too, faced a mountain of stigma and misunderstanding in his community. "Many see bottoms as weak or submissive in a derogatory sense," he confides.
Sadly, these beliefs often worm their way into the gay community, too. Andre, a top from Cape Town, admits, "I used to make snide remarks about bottoms. I didn't realize I was perpetuating toxic stereotypes."
Adding more spice to the mix, we have media representation – or lack thereof. Elliot, a film critic from LA, explains, "Movies and shows often portray bottoms as overly feminine or the 'butt of the joke'. It feeds into the stigma."
Then there's the wild west of dating and hook-up apps, where 'No Fems, No Bottoms' bios are as common as cat memes on the internet. Louis, a data scientist from Paris, confesses, "I've been turned down by guys who said they 'only date tops'. It made me feel ashamed, as if being a bottom was a bad thing."
So, what we're looking at is a gnarly tangle of societal norms, toxic masculinity, media portrayal, and the digital dating scene that creates this whirlpool of bottom shame.
And the result? A lot of guys, like Diego and Wei, grappling with unnecessary guilt and self-doubt, simply for being true to themselves. It's like feeling guilty for preferring vanilla ice cream over chocolate – makes no sense, right?
Ah, masculinity - society's favorite buzzword. It's been setting the norms for ages, but let's chat about how it's messing with some guys' heads and hearts in the gay community.
Ever heard of the phrase "straight-acting"? It's a term that's often thrown around to describe gay men who are perceived as traditionally masculine.
And there's pressure to fit into this mold. Big time.
Take Carlos, a personal trainer from Mexico City. Carlos shares, "I used to be terrified of being seen as feminine. So, I played the part of a 'macho man', even in bed."
This fear of femininity and societal expectation of masculinity can lead to denial, even self-repression. Many men, like Carlos, might suppress their desires to fit into a masculine stereotype.
Sean, a lawyer from Boston, confesses, "I always knew I was more inclined towards being a bottom, but I didn't want to be seen as 'less manly'. So, I denied myself the pleasure."
It's the old 'square peg in a round hole' situation, with gay men squeezing themselves into the "manly man" box at the expense of their genuine desires.
And it's not just about sexual roles. Even hobbies, professions, or fashion choices can fall victim to this masculinity filter. Remember Elliot, our film critic from LA? He admitted to hiding his love for ballet for years. "I thought people would assume I was 'too feminine'. It was exhausting pretending to be someone I wasn't."
Then there's the online dating scene, where masculinity is often overemphasized. Remember Louis and his dating app dilemmas? "I felt I had to present a certain image. No one seemed interested in a guy who admitted to enjoying baking and rom-coms," he reveals.
This internal conflict of self-perception, societal expectations, and genuine desires can create a real struggle. It's a battle between authenticity and acceptance, identity, and image.
As Theo, a versatile psychologist from Sydney, puts it, "When we deny parts of ourselves to conform, we sacrifice authenticity for approval. It's about finding the courage to honor your true self."