Johnny are you queer?
Suck it, bitches! This is ma house!
Figure skating is weird. Everybody knows, or at least assumes (let's be fair), that all the male ice skaters are gay—which, of course, they are. So, you'd think it'd be the one sport (to use the term loosely) a homo would feel safe being out in. But except for Miss Congeniality Rudy Galindo, they all stay safely inside their satin-and-ermine-lined closets.
Now there's a new boy in town and he's a real showstopper:
20-year-old American Johnny Weir has been raking in medals like Kirstie Alley inhaling White Castle burgers after a bad "Fat Actress" review. He's won back-to-back U.S. figure skating championships and nabbed the esteemed Trophée Eric Bompard Cachemire in 2004. (No, I don't know what that is either, but it sounds fancy in French).
He's also the U.S.'s last, best hope for the gold at the World Figure Skating Championships in Moscow this week. (Cue inspirational music from "Over the Top.")
Oh, and one last thing: our boy Johnny is quite the little Elton-in-training. In a recent interview with Salon.com, he gushes over Paris Hilton, preaches the serenity of Kaballah and explains how he got his nickname, "Tinkerbell." ("I kind of float around, like even when I'm on the ice and off the ice...I am very quick, and doing everything all at once.")
Johnny might ruffle some feathers, though, with his pro-fur stance, as illuminated in the following excerpt:
Salon: When is PETA just going to realize that fur is fabulous and drop this whole charade?
JW: You know, animals wear fur coats, so I don't see any reason why I can't. It's discrimination, I think.
Do you take furs with you on the road?
Yes, I have one that I take when I go to Russia or somewhere that's really cold.
What is it?
It's coyote fur. It's somehow like a coyote shearling of sorts, and it's really nice, and it's long, and it's beautiful ... I love beautiful things, and if it means having a fur coat or diamonds -- or even if I want to wear a tiara someday -- then that's just the way it's going to be.
So far, I'm loving this little minx. I mean, he's soooo gay. I'm surprised his flames don't melt the ice. He even disses Michelle Kwan for wearing Vera Wang. Vera Wang, people!
But somehow, in a big three-page article, they completely skated around (sorry, I had to) the issue of Weir's sexuality. WTF?
Honestly, I didn't expect some big coming out thing about growing up in rural Pennsylvania and getting called "sissy" or "fag." I think we're sort of beyond that point in the culture, y'know. But a little acknowledgement or something, like "I was at Rawhide and the towel boy totally recognized me!"
The piece was totally set up gay, too. There's this giant blow-up shot of Johnny in a lavender and black outfit, his right hand thrust upwards like Endora on "Bewitched." The kicker in the intro reads "...almost nothing was off the table in a wide-ranging talk with America's next great gold medal contender." Yeah, almost.
Look, if Weir was some scared kid who didn’t want to broadcast his sexuality to the 300 media elitists who read Salon, that’s fine. But he did avoided talking about relationships—he just played the pronoun game.
"Well, I'm seeing someone and it's been almost 13 months now, so that's the longest relationship I've had, and it's difficult at times because I don't get a lot of time away from skating when I can work on my relationship, and, um, it is tough. But I think if you really love somebody, it's not going to just fade away because you're gone for a little while. It's just something that will always be there, and always you can feel the love coming to you, and you can always give love back."
Movie stars, football players, rappers…I expect them to stay closeted. I even understand why some of them do it. But you’re a fucking FIGURE SKATER! If you can't just come out and acknowledge yer a big ol' homo, then who the hell can?! (Oh, and can all the 20-year-olds please shut up about what it takes to keep a relationship alive? It's really annoying.)
Anyway, I wish you luck at the world championships this week, Johnny—even if you are a screaming closet case. Just don't get caught servicing any burley Muscovites in the bathroom. I hear the nights in Siberia are cold, indeed.
side note:, I tried to track down the Salon interviewer, Dana Vachon—mainly to figure out if it was a "he" or a "she." There's a blog called D-Nasty written by a Dana Vachon, but I can't tell if it’s the same one, or even if D-Nasty is male or female. There's a posting about dressing like Tara Reid for Halloween, but in this city that means bupkis.