The Mostly Contempt Leather Remix
<p>My last post, <em>Love, Contempt, and Leather Contests</em>, ended up being a lackluster whimper that confused a few people. Thank you guys for the feedback. “Where’s the contempt?” they asked. And they were right to ask. </p><p>In haste to meet my publishing deadline (on the 1st and 3rd Thursdays), I rushed a piece that was not ready for release. </p><p>I also let an effort to be magnanimous prevent me from being brave. I am afraid to hurt the feelings of people I have grown to care about, even love. </p><p>But sometimes, we need to tell our loved ones what’s keeping us from taking their calls. </p><p>So here’s a remix with a heaping helping of contempt regarding certain aspects of leather contest culture. </p><p>As I said before, I got interested in leather contests, thinking it would lead to instructions for handling a sexy boy kneeling at my feet. </p><p>My leather contest contempt grew out of the impatience I felt waiting for the real world of leather to reveal itself. The one we’re all talking about during leather contests. It’s the world outlined in books like <em>The Leatherman’s Handbook</em> by Larry Townsend,<em> </em><em>Ties That Bind</em> by Guy Baldwin, and <em>Mr. Benson</em> by John Preston. Where was the heat and eros of <a target="_blank" href="https://www.tomoffinland.org/">Tom of Finland</a>? Why wasn’t I seeing guys like that kneeling boy who got away? Where was the 19-year-old marine at a bus station craving a bondage fuck scene mentioned in Townsend’s book? I kept hearing stories about Old Guard, Master/slave, Dom/sub, and dungeons filled with hot men negotiating power exchange scenes. Where were those men? </p><p>The leather contests appeared to be crucibles where men were tested to see if they had what it took to represent the real leather world. So, I signed up. </p><p>There were (and are) few ways for contemporary men to test themselves as a rite of passage into manhood, so maybe I was also trying to scratch that itch. Put me in, coach! I’m ready to play!</p><p><strong>I assumed that the real world of leather men would become available to me if I proved myself on stage. </strong></p><p>After I won the Mr. Los Angeles Leather (LAL) 2007 competition, and at the prodding of the LAL producer, I went to Cleveland Leather Awareness Weekend (CLAW) to pursue my goal of winning International Mister Leather (IML). </p><p>On the CLAW workshop schedule, I found an offering from a group called the Kennel Club. They claimed to know everything it takes to win a leather contest, so I attended the offering along with 30 to 40 other guys headed to IML to compete. </p><p>The large conference room was set up in a traditional authoritarian configuration. A table in front of the room, behind which sat several men, facing the large group of attendees, all wearing leather vests bearing patches of the clubs they represented. A few empty chairs facing the crowd sat to the left of the presenter’s table. </p><p>One of the men behind the table asked if anyone wanted to do a practice interview. </p><p>Most competitions give the interview score double the points of any other contest aspect. If the interview sucks, it’s nearly impossible to recover. It’s typically done in private, not in front of spectators. </p><p>During the pause after his question, as each man decided if he wanted to put himself on the spot in front of the same guys he’d be competing against at the biggest leather contest on the planet, I raised my hand. Why not? If you’re gonna make a mistake, make it here. </p><p><strong>I wanted to learn, and these guys had credited themselves with knowing all the answers. </strong></p><p>Who knows what was really said and done nearly seventeen years ago, but this is how I remember it going down. And it did go down, as in, south, as in, badly. Much of it is covered in my short story,<a target="_blank" href="https://www.amazon.com/View-Podium-True-Story/dp/1545327955/ref=sr_1_1?crid=31A74CWU1QZFP&keywords=A+View+From+The+Podium+gerle&qid=1705961833&sprefix=a+view+from+the+podium+gerle%2Caps%2C155&sr=8-1"> A View From The Podium</a>. </p><p>I stood in front of the mock judging panel because I knew from experience that I should not sit during an interview. I waited for the exercise to begin, vaguely wondering why they didn’t cover the whole standing versus sitting protocol thing. </p><p>I looked at my mock interview judges with curiosity. </p><p>They were definitely enjoying the session, but the joy was contained to their table. None of my fellow contestants were smiling. They were intensely focused. </p><p>From their seated positions, the mock judges grinned and whispered to each other while pointing at a page in one of the many matching binders they’d brought with them. </p><p>Later, I learned the binders were for sale. </p><p>“What’s the leatherman’s code?” asked a young, pudgy-faced man.</p><p>I couldn’t remember. </p><p>“Oh, man. I know this one. Wait! It’s not Safe, Sane, and Consensual, is it? Or Risk Aware Consensual Kink?” I exhaled in defeat. “Okay, I guess I can’t remember. What is it?” I asked. </p><p>“You really need to know this. It’s really basic.” Said the pudgy-faced man, now looking happier than ever. </p><p>“Yes. I know. This is a workshop, right? Can you please just tell me what it is? I asked. </p><p>“No. You need to go figure it out and get back to us.” He said. “Have a seat.” </p><p>Embarrassed, uninformed, and full of rage, I found my seat. </p><p>These guys couldn't have cared less about what I was about. They didn’t ask me what I love about leather, kink, or the contest itself. They didn’t affirm anything I was doing right. They had decided what it takes to win a contest, and I needed to fall in line with that vision. </p><p>This attitude reminded me of a dinner with an entrenched self-appointed kingmaker connected to the Mr. Los Angeles Leather (LAL) contest. We’d met for dinner after I won LAL. I’d brought all my ideas, in writing, for improving the Los Angeles Leather Coalition (LALC), the producer of the LAL contest, and my ideas for how I’d present my authentic self at IML. The self-appointed kingmaker simply handed my written material back to me without looking at it and then handed me a list of questions that judges might ask me, proper answers included. </p><p><strong>The message was clear. You know nothing. Without me, you will fail. </strong></p><p>An hour after my aggravating session at CLAW with the Kennel Club, I saw the same pudgy-faced man walking down a hall toward me, arm and arm with the LAL kingmaker. They looked at me and giggled. </p><p>I said, “Hey, Geroge,” to the kingmaker and received a cursory nod back as they passed me without slowing down. </p><p>Ironically, the leatherman’s code, the answer to the questions I was asked, is <em>Trust, Honor, and Respect</em>. None of which I saw exhibited by the Kennel Club or the LAL kingmaker at CLAW in 2007. </p><p><strong>It’s these “betas” for which I have the most contempt. </strong></p><p>Unlike the authentic old guard leather club leaders I believe were real, the alphas, who enjoyed their power by setting an example that others wanted to embody and follow, the betas found their power and authority because of the void left when the plague of AIDS wiped out nearly all of the heavy players. </p><p>The guys who had been allowed in these groups to run the projector in the back of the room suddenly found themselves at the top of the kinky gay men’s social network. After sweeping away the ashes of what remained of the old guard into urns we were then asked to worship via their tutelage, the betas established a leadership foothold in the leather scene. </p><p><strong>Their reign is animated by the dark side of leadership. It’s the shadow side of mature masculine </strong><strong>King/Soverien</strong><strong> energy outlined by Carl Jung. Rather than blessing and affirming the talents of newcomers, they come down on all threats because they are terrified of their own inadequacies. </strong></p><p>The result is a stranglehold on the growth of leather culture, leaving a diminished community where talented newcomers are neither blessed nor affirmed. Instead, they are controlled or pushed aside from fear of being replaced. Old clubs remain bereft of new, powerful, and sexy members. Clubs age in place while possible newcomers use new alternative venues and tools for exploring and celebrating radical sex that did not exist in the days of the old guard. </p><p>It’s the reason hot men, like the ones I read about in those books and, more importantly, the ones I saw littering the streets of West Hollywood where I lived, were seldom, if ever, in attendance at the venerated clubs or the contemporary leather contest world. </p><p><strong>In addition to the void of hot guys, there were other problems, including contempt for male expression. </strong></p><p>I watched as leather contest political trends moved away from celebrating kinky gay male expression, choosing instead to be platforms insisting on safe space for everyone, everywhere, all at once. </p><p><strong>Having any boundaries or criteria for a contest was reframed as oppression. </strong></p><p>Leather contests became magnets for broken-winged individuals rather than radical sex enthusiasts. The leather stage became a place for <a target="_blank" href="https://shalomauslander.substack.com/p/competitive-suffering">competitive suffering</a>. “Pick me! No one ever has suffered as much as me!” </p><p>From the costumes I saw, the speeches I heard, and the perfume I inhaled, I came to realize that leather culture was no longer a place to pursue secrets that make a sub-boy’s heart sing when he’s on his knees in front of you. There were too many distractions. Mr. Leather contests had become another LGBTQIA+ megaphone screaming at the world for acceptance – not something celebrating kinky gay men. </p><p>That’s what I saw at the last Mr. Los Angeles Leather contest I attended.</p><p>Standing there, wearing my Mr. Los Angeles Leather vest, I felt like I didn’t belong anymore. Maybe I never had. </p><p>As I was standing there, processing that feeling, another titleholder whispered directly into my ear, “I don’t want to be part of this.”</p><p>I agreed. </p><p>It was a sad moment. </p><p>The fury and vitriol I saw on social media following the LAL contest sealed the deal, and I have not been back to a Mr. Los Angeles Leather contest since. </p><p>The contest shows us who we are. </p><p>I was already feeling homeless after my home leather bar, a two-stepping country bar called Oil Can Harry’s, closed following the death of its owner, Bob Tomasino. He created Mr. Oil Can Harry’s Leather, and my life changed as a result. The Mr. Los Angeles Leather part of the legacy he gave me now felt foreign. </p><p>I thought, <em>Mike, we’re done with this</em>. I mentioned this disillusionment towards the end of this <a target="_blank" href="https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=AxAal_C5LvA">Fireside Chats interview with Douglas O’Keeffe (54:16)</a>. </p><p>After that, I no longer paid attention to the leather contest calendar. </p><p>*****</p><p>“I’d like to talk to you about working with a contestant,” Hunter said on the phone as I rode the escalator up to Crunch Gym in West Hollywood. </p><p>Hunter is a producer of <a target="_blank" href="https://offsunsetfestival.com/">OFF SUNSET</a>, an insanely good cook, and husband to Charlie Matula, the owner of <a target="_blank" href="https://eaglela.com/">Eagle LA</a>, where many of the leather contests in Los Angeles take place. </p><p><em>Are you kidding me? Don’t you know I think this is all a joke now? I’m focusing my attention on spaces where men get together with men and find that reason enough to throw a party. Why should I waste my time?</em> </p><p>I said that in my head. </p><p>“Who is it?” is what I actually said out loud. </p><p>He told me. </p><p>Of course, I’d seen Marcus at the Eagle! He’d been there forever. I had also done the AIDS LifeCycle with him, and, maybe most important of all, I’d always found him intensely fuckable. </p><p>“I’d be happy to talk to him,” I said. </p><p>This is how I ended up back in Chicago for IML in 2023, this time as support for Mr. Eagle LA 2023, Marcus Barela. He competed and won the International Mister Leather 2023 contest, making him IML#43. </p><p>A little leather brother to my IML#29 designation. </p><p>Marcus is perfect for today’s leather political realities, so I just encouraged him to be himself, kept track of the contest timeline, and stayed out of his way. </p><p>His victory was inevitable.</p><p><strong>Rather than draw a line of contempt in the sand so I could stand on one side and marinate in my self-righteous anger, I did my best to accept the contest as it was. </strong></p><p>Now, Marcus is thriving as IML43 in the same leather world I mentioned above; he’s perfect for this moment. That fact is why he teaches me so much every time we talk. </p><p>About six weeks ago, my phone rang again. This time, it was Charlie, the owner of <a target="_blank" href="https://eaglela.com/">Eagle LA</a>, which is now a seven-minute walk from the new condo I bought with my husband, Dennis, two years ago. </p><p>“I’d like both of you to be contestant handlers (den daddies) for this year’s Mr. Eagle LA Leather contest.” He said. </p><p>I’m glad I said, “Yes.” </p><p>Being part of that bar contest, in a service capacity, was a surprise homecoming that touched me deeply, especially as an older man. I didn’t have to give any scores or make any speeches; I just helped four bright-eyed contestants while they showed me what bravery looked like. All while surrounded by people I’ve known for nearly two decades. </p><p>It felt like home. </p><p>That experience brought me to the realization that the contest itself, its liturgy of Meet & Greet, Interview, Speech, Bar Wear, and Jockstrap, has its own power to reveal who we are individually and as a community. </p><p>It’s why I wrote some glowing things about gay leather contests in <a target="_blank" href="https://open.substack.com/pub/mikegerle/p/love-contempt-and-leather-contests?r=1m2xt1&utm_campaign=post&utm_medium=web">last week’s piece</a>. </p><p>Maybe I’m just old and getting soft. </p><p><strong>Still, with the remnants of old clubs withering on the vine, the most challenging truth to accept now is the fact that the real leather culture of today is the leather contest system itself. </strong></p><p>I will work within that system, having faith that celebrating kinky gay men’s culture will have the power to bring us home. </p> <br/><br/>Get full access to Going Deep: A Gay Guide to Reality at <a href="https://mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe?utm_medium=podcast&utm_campaign=CTA_4">mikegerle.substack.com/subscribe</a>
