The most important issue in a gay man’s life is not “coming out”, but coming to terms with the invalidating past. Despite the progress made in recent years, many gay men still wonder, “Are we better off?” The byproduct of growing up gay in a straight world continues to be the internalization of shame, rejection, and anger - a toxic cocktail that can lead to drug abuse, promiscuity, alcoholism, depression, and suicide.Drawing on contemporary psychological research, the author’s own journey, and the stories of many of his friends and clients, Velvet Rage addresses the myth of gay pride and outlines three stages to emotional well-being for gay men. The revised and expanded edition covers issues related to gay marriage, a broader range of examples that extend beyond middle-class gay men in America, and expansion of the original discussion on living authentically as a gay man.
Alan Downs, Ph.D. is a clinical psychologist and the CEO of Michael's House.
His fifteen years of treating clients throughout America's culture have already been reflected in his numerous books in both leadership and self-help. His two most recent books include The Velvet Rage: Overcoming the Pain of Growing Up Gay in a Straight Man's World and The Half Empty Heart.
I wanted to like this book way more than I did. Downs' broad premise - that gay culture is awash in deeply calcified narcissism - is a valid one, and bears the additional virture of being entirely true. However, like many readers, it became clear to me very early on that I did not fall into this book's target demographic, which has led me to wonder if its scope is much more narrow than many (including the author) realize. There is a white upper middle class American-centricity to Downs' approach, an outlook perhaps shaped by Downs' drawing most his interviews for this book from clients of his LA practice. While it's entirely possible that he uses a sliding scale, therapy is prohibitively expensive for most people and then usually not covered by health insurance. I imagine this may have skewed his samples sample somewhat, as the reader winds up being guided by Downs through a world of high-achieving, feminized, outsized personalities hosting fabulous dinner parties in Malibu, guided all throughout by the minorly irritating usage of the first person plural (you can only put up with so much of the word "we" if it's being consistently applied to experiences that lay very far outside your own).
Not all gay men grow up to become Simon Doonan, who I presume to be a lovely individual. But not all gay men will struggle in the ways that Downs portrays here either (as many commentors have rightly pointed out). And it is also true (and probably most important to say) that many gay men will struggle mightily for reasons that go completely unaddressed by Downs throughout this book, and that one could easily imagine simply aren't perceived by many of the individuals whose personal lives he depicts. There are some diamonds in the rough here and there (the pathology of the need to conform, being validated for pretense, etc.) but there's a noticeable dearth of cultural competency here that undercuts the more critical insights Downs tries to make.
An Amazon reviewer (not me) hit it on the head by saying, "if someone living in rural America or inner city America or Islamic America or Bible-belt America or outside of America is looking for some guidance in coping with the shame and low self-esteem and death threats that are weighing him down, he may want to look elsewhere."
The Velvet Rage provides a three-stage model for the journey gay men are encouraged to take in order to (i) embrace their sexuality, (ii) acknowledge what habits or addictions they rely on to compensate for insecurity; and (iii) discover a life of authenticity and subsequently enjoy healthy relationships.
The experience of being a gay man in the twenty-first century is different than any other minority, sexual orientation, gender, or culture grouping. [. . .] Our lives are a unique blending of testosterone and gentleness, hyper-sexuality and delicate sensuality, rugged masculinity and refined gentility. There is no other group quite like that of gay men.
Alan Downs, Ph. D is a clinical psychologist. As a gay man himself, he brings a level of understanding to the subject matter that a straight author could not. Relying on personal experience and years of counseling gay men and gay couples, he penned The Velvet Rage to assist men with letting go of shameful feelings about their sexuality they may be unaware of harboring. The ultimate goal of his book is to help gay men embrace a lifestyle that is healthy and fulfilling.
The first stage of the author's three-stage model is "Overwhelmed by Shame" and explores the period of time when many gay men remain "in the closet" and keep their sexuality hidden because of fear. He brings to light a powerful correlation between a father's love and a gay man's ability to accept his own sexual identity.
Of all the invalidation we will receive in our lives, this is by far the most damaging. The first man that we love - arguably the man we will love the most in our life - is incapable of validating us at a time when we need it most. It is emotional betrayal of the worst sort. The wound created by this betrayal will go on to affect us throughout most of our lives.
This section tackles self-hatred and feelings of shame, citing the dangers of inhibited emotions. Such hidden emotions, left unacknowledged or unchecked, can have disastrous results.
Suicide among gay men in stage one is shockingly common. One study found that homosexual (whether out or not) males account for more than half of male youth suicide attempts.
Stage two is "Compensating for Shame" and explains how some gay men attempt to subdue feelings of shame by striving to be more successful, fabulous, masculine, or attractive than the people around them.
Once we leave stage one and are no longer shamed by our sexuality, we continue to hold the deeper belief that there is something fundamentally flawed about ourselves. Any person, straight or gay, who grows up in an environment that is essentially invalidating of some core part of themselves such as sexuality, struggles with this deeper shame.
Finally, stage three concerns "Discovering Authenticity." Gay men who make it past stage one and two are encouraged to build a life with a foundation based on their passions and values, rather than a need to prove themselves as desirable and lovable.
Stage three begins for most gay men with a vague sense of freedom and vacillating awareness of confusion. Everything that is familiar feels somewhat foreign, and there is a growing awareness that life must be slowly redefined in all aspects.
Special care is given, in this section, to understanding relationship trauma. According to the author, many gay men wish to overcome their feelings of shame to ultimately find a healthy and loving relationship; therefore, the author provides information to guide readers away from dangerous or traumatic relationships.
Toward the end of the book, the author offers ten short lessons to further encourage healthy relationships, such as Lesson #1: Don't let your sexual tastes be the filter for allowing people into your life and Lesson #8: Actively practice accepting your body as it is right now.
To be gay in an uncompromisingly straight world is to struggle to find love and, once found, to hold onto it. We are men in a world where men are emotionally disabled by our masculine cultural ideals. And we are men who threaten those ideals by loving another man at a time in life when we are neither equipped for the ravishes of love or the torments of shame.
Despite a surprising number of typos and a fair amount of repetition, The Velvet Rage appears to be a helpful guide for gay men looking to acquire self-confidence and healthy relationships, and it effectively raises awareness and understanding in straight readers.
this book gave me chills because i've never felt an author hit so close to the mark with his description of gay male psychological development. i couldn't have read this at a better time and i am eternally grateful to the author.
my only caveat is to take from it what you will. i think as gay males in our twenties and thirties, we might have a different developmental arc than the gay male generation ahead of us, for which this book seems to be written. however, the fundamental truths still exist and i found them to be very helpful.
For starters, this book was more self-help than sociology, which I wasn’t expecting. I picked it up because I have seen or heard it described as a classic text in LGBTQ literature, and for queer men specifically. It wasn’t what I hoped for, but by virtue of its self-help style, it was still sometimes practical. It was, at turns, deeply insightful and helpful — there were dozens of times while reading that I felt a deep sense of recognition or lingered over a particular piece of concrete advice that I really needed. The author is a clinical psychologist, and some of his deconstructions of & processing through traumas specific to queer men were really revelatory and clarifying.
That’s about the extent of the positive things that I have to say, though, and I don’t think it salvages this book. The glaring flaw in the book is the author’s assumption of a monolithic Gay Man. He speaks in universal “we” terms, talks about “our” shared experiences and struggles, makes ultimatums about “our” stages of personal and emotional development, and offers examples that “we” (as queer men) must relate to, about how “our” defining experience of discrimination and oppression is our sexuality. But it’s ridiculous. The archetypal Gay Man at the center of the whole book is clearly white, urban, coastal, and affluent. I laughed out loud at some of the broad and stereotypical claims made about queer men in the text, like where there are meditations on the psychology of why “we” throw lavish dinner parties attended by celebrities where “we” are rude to our caterers, why “we” take luxury vacations all the time, why “we” collect and produce fine art, why “we” are sassy and loud and over the top, why “we” are all compelled to spend half our lives at the gym trying to become Adonis himself. If the author wasn’t a gay man, I would honestly describe these flimsy, stereotypical depictions of queer life as low-grade homophobia. Sure they apply in varying combinations to some queer men, but the degree to which the author standardizes these qualities, behaviors, and privileges as The Gay Experience is preposterously myopic. It’s nonsense, and it promotes the White Gayze and the myth of gay affluence. The author states that he draws his sweeping conclusions about The Gay Experience from his clients — all of whom happen to live in Beverly Hills, California, and can afford regular therapy sessions with an elite counselor. Like? What?
Anyways. Glad I read it because I keep seeing it everywhere, and also because there are some general insights that were useful, but mostly I’m disappointed and irritated by this silly framing of the most privileged and visible queer men as the standard by which all queer men can be understood.
This is kind of at the intersection of 2 genres I seldom read: non-fiction about LGBT issues, and popular psychology. The former genre is something I've just never paid much attention to, the latter is something I've actively ignored from my own snobby contempt (I still remember rolling my eyes every afternoon as a kid when my mom would put on Oprah).
Anyway, the basic underlying assumption of this book-- that gay men specifically have a spate of psychological issues which follow them throughout the full duration of their lives, not from being gay, but from everything around being gay, i.e. hiding a part of yourself, the sense of woundedness and insecurity and shame and confusion and really, just intense anger which that hiding brings on, and which is NOT addressed or remedied or really in anyway even sincerely acknowledged even after most gay men come out of the closet... that basic premise, is in my opinion, valid.
What Downs is pointing to in this book is the numerous ways that those dark, deeply embedded emotions can well up throughout a gay man's life (even in the lives of guys who have been out for decades and who have very seemingly happy, succesful lives) in ways which are destructive both to himself and to those around him. To be sure, this is a hopelessly essentialist view of gay life (more on that in a bit), yet, speaking as a gay man, I found that the early parts of the book, which describe some of the major emotional swings which young gay men move through, to be frighteningly and I mean FRIGHTENINGLY accurate, especially describing what it's like emotionally for most males up to the time when they completely realize they are gay. There were moments when reading this I physically shuddered being reminded of what it's like to be deeply in denial and profoundly closeted, as much to yourself as to the world around you. The first third of this is going to probably be a deeply insightful but also deeply unfun trip down memory lane for most young gay men who read it.
Unfortunately, the second two parts of the book, which recount the "stages" (it wouldn't be pop psychology without "stages" would it?) which out gay men go through becomes far too narrow a descriptive filter, at least in my opinion. I can maybe, maaaaaybe buy the idea that the psychological experience for most (probably not all) guys being a kid and growing up in the closet at least has a few common emotional themes which you could reasonably generalize about. Maybe. But life is just vastly more complicated than his cute little 3 stage schema, and there are profound cultural and socio-economic pressures which obviously can't really be hinted at in a work like this.
In fact, the socio-economic (really, the generational) issue of this book is probably the strongest mark against it. Downs himself has had a lucrative, deeply successful career, in the corporate world (he's an 80's child, afterall), as a therapist and as a writer, even when in the throws of personal tragedy as he reveals in the books kind of obnoxious pseudo-memoirish final chapter.
Downs is a high priced therapist for "powergays;" gay men who have a lot of disposable income to burn, who own multiple houses stocked with nice things and who take regular vacations to exotic locales. This is obviously a cliche, but almost every "story" and example in his book features gay men who are, from the point of view of an educated gay millennial currently struggling to find a career path that will even pay a humane wage, so obscenely well-off as to be almost repulsive, and Downs himself reinforces the idea of this obscene wealth on almost every page. It's almost like he's gloating at the rarified social circles he travels in and the high powered management and exective types that he treats. Obviously, a lot of that is generational; this book feels like it was written by someone for whom the last 10-15 years of socio-economic history in this country simply never happened to. I can't imagine someone in his position even realizing that many young gay men in this country will probably never be able to afford to purchase a single home, much less multiple ones in sheik locales.
His sheer inability to consider any outside factor in his analysis of what plagues gay men is of course a necessity of the genre he's writing in, but it's also just so incredibly limited and so patently ignorant of how our countries socio-economic insecurity can contribute to individual insecurity, especially for young gay men (who as he smartly points out, aren't generally the most secure people to begin with) is a depressing omission. Parts of his observations are brilliant and scathing, but enough of it seems so utterly out of touch with modern American socio-economics, really with any kind of material consideration for the generation of gay men who are coming up behind him, and who have a litany of economic anxieties to worry about on top of all the dense psychological baggage of being gay, that the book ultimately fails to persuade very much once it gets past "stage 1." Forget finding the gay Oprah, what we need is the gay Karl Marx.
There was too much use of "we" and "us" constantly used, as over-generalization was rampant. There were many different scenarios/cases that were discussed in the book, so you are sure to find one that looks like "you" and even others that look like people you know. But the vast majority of the cases involved clients that were clearly going down a wrong path: multiple partners, additional boyfriends that slept over and were expected to be acceptable, lies, gossip, over infatuation with the youthful chiseled male body, etc. The singular answer to each case is stated, and the book moves on to another.
The first edition of this book came out in 2005/6. This second edition that I read came out in 2012 and includes an extra epilogue chapter that reviews the life of the author. I would suggest you read this final chapter first. It is not a summary of the book, so it will not give away the summation chapter that proceeds it. However, it will give you total insight to the entire premise behind the writings in the book, since this book is the very personal writings of one single man - the author Alan Downs.
I have read MANY nonfiction books, and I expect a bibliography, extensive research notes, and statements about other theories or opinions. This is nonexistent in this book. The author comes off being very confident in himself, yet Albert Einstein is the only person I know that can write conclusive research statements and actually cite nobody.
I just recently finished the book "Boys and Sex" by Peggy Orenstein. Lots of notes, lots of citations, extensive bibliography. THAT is how this book should have been written. I usually take notes in a nonfiction book, yet this read more like 100 small short stories/cases with definite singular answers.
For example - this book starts with the premise that stage 1 of being gay is full of Shame, Fear, and Rage. Is that you? If not, you might want to stop reading. I did briefly. I consulted some more reviews here on GR, and convinced myself that the book must get better per some good scores I see.
You will understand this book if you read his epilogue first. Once you have a picture of his life, you can see from where all his experiences are modeled. A key statement is when Downs talks about his lesbian cousin Bette dying at age 42, from diabetes. This was a shock to Downs. "She was the only person in my large family that truly accepted me as a gay man. She was my rock, my soul, my conscience. Until her death we had spoken by phone virtually daily".
I am clearly hearing here that Downs early life was full of Shame, Fear and Rage. His large family did not acknowledge/accept him being gay. If your teens and 20's were Shame, Fear and Rage, then you will follow the first half of this book just fine. And that might seriously be true for too many people that live in a homophobic and hostile environment. If that led to a second stage of overcompensation and many sexual partners, then you'll better understand the next quarter of the book. The final quarter of the book is based on the resolving of the first two stages, so unless you agree with the first two stages, then this final quarter feels much too generalized.
So this book did not connect with me. I 'saw' a couple people I know, but the promiscuity of the men in this book is not the crowd I hang around. The very short case that I felt I identified with personally, was answered too quickly and singularly to be of much benefit.
I'm conflicted on this book. While I could relate to many of the author's points on gay shame and how it affects us, I struggled with the position from which the author was writing. Early on, the author puts forth a homogenous view of the gay experience, one that oftentimes seemed moneyed and white. With practically every example the author employs, there's mention of fabulous wealth, executive careers, and many other hallmarks of affluence that I just couldn't relate to in my experience. Early on, I had doubts whether or not this book could be applicable to me, given that my experience as a gay man differed so much from the experience the author painted. I know the author was writing based on the experiences he's had with his clients, and those clients may've been very well-off, but there was just something extremely off-putting with the constant mention of wealth and high gay society.
If you can get past the myopic examples the author uses to illustrate the book, there really is a lot here for every gay man to read and learn from. I won't go into the positives here, since I'm sure other reviews have praised them better than I ever will. I just wanted to share why I had such mixed feelings about this book, despite the excellent food for thought that it provides.
I get *why* people think this is a good book. BUT this is not a good book. Quite frankly, this book might actually do more harm for gay men who read it than good. It presents a homogenous Freudian interpretation of the gay male experience and takes it to a place that prefaces a heteronormative understanding of the world that strikes as victim-blaming "bootstraps" analysis. While there are nuggets of truth and relatable experience in here, where Downs takes them is not good. If you see a friend about to read this book, perform an intervention and get them to read literally anything else.
Honestly one of the most powerful and thought provoking books I’ve ever read. Certainly one of the most important nonfiction books of my life, and I say that after just finishing it. I’m not sure I exactly agree with *everything* in it – the worldview of the author can seem really bleak at times, but a lot of this genuinely struck home for me and the whole thing really made me think deeply. I honestly think this is a book all gay men should read. Actually everyone should read this, as I think it will grant everyone a better understanding of what it’s really like to be gay. Absolutely phenomenal and truly life changing.
This was a mixed bag for me. While reading The Velvet Rage I oscillated between reflection and deep annoyance. I think the message of the book is important even if the package it comes in is indefensibly flawed.
On the bright side, the discussion of toxic shame/rage and the path towards authenticity and acceptance that Alan Downs describes resonated with me and there is a lot of hard won insight and wisdom to be found in this book. I can easily see how this book has been helpful to a lot of people and I applaud its positive impact. I particularly enjoyed the final chapter of the book that focuses on describing skills for achieving and maintaining an 'authentic life'.
On the dark and gloomy side...I think this book has a lot of issues that lessen its impact and bring down the work overall. My main frustration is that the book attempts to present a generalized gay male psychological journey. This is a fascinating topic, but the attempt is repeatedly undermined by the incredibly narrow focus of the examples used throughout the book. In between descriptions of psychological theory and ideas Downs relies primarily on anecdotes from his West Hollywood patients and his own experience as a gay man to drive home his arguments. This irresponsibly and unnecessarily focuses the book on the predominantly-white upper-middle-class gay male experience during the 1980's through early 2000's in the metropolitan United States.
I often felt alienated, baffled or outright annoyed at the stories that Downs leans on. I found a lot of this book read as a lazy, stereotypical portrayal of the gay male experience. Basically every person used as an example is comfortably affluent, has unfailingly good taste, and probably looks/dresses like Brian Kinney from Queer as Folk. I'm disappointed that Downs at no point complicates this image of the gay male experience beyond his own perspective.
To be clear, the experiences of Downs and his clients are certainly relevant and legitimate, but that they're the only examples used to extrapolate and arrive at a generalized theory of gay male self-actualization is laughable (and pissed me off endlessly). I've wondered if the book is simply outdated, but as it was published in 2005 and updated in 2012 I'm not willing to give it that out.
Though Downs' rampant extrapolating is my biggest issue, I have other complaints as well. The book is much more interested in using personal anecdotes to support its arguments than referring to research (though there are sporadic references to studies). I also found the writing to be repetitious and the book felt padded as a result. Finally I have an issue that I know isn't exactly fair, but I listened to this book as an audiobook and Downs narrates the book himself. Not everyone has a voice suited for narrating and I found the narration to be a tad monotone and too soothing (better suited for narrating a meditation exercise than a multi-hour book).
Despite its many issues I still finished the book. I do think the three-step path to self-acceptance that Downs describes has value for queer men, but I can't recommend The Velvet Rage as its flaws are just too frustrating.
I was looking for a therapist and during one consultation this book was recommended to me. This work addresses problems that are classically inherent to gay men: body fascism, objectification, perfectionism, inauthenticity, "instamacy", abuse / self-abuse, shame. The author is at his best when focusing on the clinical aspects / analysis of the particular gay male subject is being discussed. In general -- This work is a very fast read.
When I arrived in NYC in the fall of 1980, promiscuity was the norm and rampant -- That's how I was introduced to gay life. I was relatively innocent and inexperienced; at first I was frightened by the gay bars. I was in over my head and I found many aspects of the cruising / pick up scenes to be overwhelming. The AIDS crisis arrived shortly thereafter, which in my case, amounted to living life in a state of fear. As a person who's sought out "harm reduction" by means of therapy, group therapy and 12 Step groups over the years -- I recognize that much of what Alan Downs, PhD recommends within this tome is derived from the 12 Step method. Mainly the idea of acceptance and how acceptance, when used as a tool, can change one's life; or from a Buddhist perspective -- Seeking "detachment"; learning to let go. "The Velvet Rage" also deconstructs the profound effect of shame, and how by refusing to let go of shame -- One ends up being inauthentic. Many of the gay men described in this book also suffer from a problem that I can relate to; one that causes tremendous existential angst-- That being the "inability to discern between, love, sex and affection".
A major weakness of this book, that has been commented on extensively in other reviews, is its tendency to focus on a particular type of gay man -- The capable, confident, fast lane, fast track to success kind of guy who jumps form one city, and or apartment, to the next; the "glistening" phony who'll hang on your every word -- Just to drop you like a hot potato. Although I've observed many of these types of men from afar, the queer men I've known have never been as driven or privileged as those described in this work. Thus at certain times while reading this text and searching for the common ground / attempting to empathize -- I couldn't help feeling like an "outsider among outsiders".
It's unfortunate that gay men can be cruel to one another; omnipresent rainbow flags notwithstanding, this lack of mutual empathy among queer men is the downside of the "rapier wit" that Dr. Downs references in this book. Sex for its own sake (more likely for "men of a certain age" like myself) often becomes more trouble than it's worth. Ultimately, after reading this text, I'm faced once again with the same questions that I encounter when seeking whatever method of "self-improvement": Does a gray area between "fast track party animal" and "morally superior reformed sinner" actually exist? How does one find "contentment" without turning into a veritable saint? ..... I'm still not sure.
The other day, as we were sitting around the office trying to be thoughtful about trans rights legal guidance for the city, a moment of levity transpired. Someone said that someone else who had been involved in the drafting had said, "Don't LGBTQ people want gender and sex to be conflated?" And without wading into the practical and theoretical morass of that debate, I'm glad we could laugh it off, because though I admire our unfortunately rare moments of solidarity and I hope for more allyship--surely there are few groups more heterogenous than the LGBTQ community! And that is only marginally less true of gay men, a group that has lots in common but, by virtue of our diaspora, so very much that sets our microunits apart from one another.
So I had trouble with this book at times, because it treats gay men as if we fall into one to three archetypes for any given complex problem: things like emotional unavailability, disparities in sex drive, substance abuse, etc. etc. Worse still, the lawyer in me balks at any sufficiently squishy and unfounded bugbear like "shame" being the villain behind it all. I probably wouldn't even understand their source material, but I want citations, damnit!
So I approached this book with skepticism. But it is possessed of quite a lot of wisdom, as well. I just don't know how peculiar it is to gay men, but I could be in the minority here--lots of folks really enjoy it, have rated it highly, and seem to have grown materially because of its narrative. And I begrudge them none of that, I just didn't quite find it myself.
As self-help books go (and I will admit that I am not a fan of the genre), The Velvet Rage is actually quite good. The problematic issue with many self-help books is that the underlying philosophy (or approach, or methodology, or treatment, etc.) is based on the assumption that everyone who reads the book is suffering with or struggling with the same condition (e.g., obesity, addiction, unhealthy relationship). This kind of essentializing or pathologizing of a condition usually results in overly generic (i.e., pretty much useless) strategies for correcting the condition. This book, however, is based on a more solid foundation—the belief that most gay men face similar challenges during the course of their development. These challenges result in deep-seated shame that often precludes any ability to maintain healthy, loving adult relationships with other men. And on this point, Dr. Downs pretty much gets it right.
I recognized more of myself than I care to admit in Downs’ descriptions of men crippled by a shame that dooms any attempt at a loving relationship with another man. The book is therapeutic and enlightening without being overly patronizing. In other words, Downs explains how and why our contemporary culture (20th century America, to be exact) makes it well-nigh impossible for a gay man to grow up as a healthy, self-actualized person, yet he does not excuse any of us for our failure to overcome these obstacles. He uses clear, frank language and relates anecdotes from his private practice to illustrate the various ways in which gay men sabotage their own relationships. (Unfortunately, Downs’ practice seems limited to middle-class or upper middle-class white men, so there is not much diversity within the stories he tells. We do not get, for example, a clear idea of what it might be like to grow up poor and gay or black and gay or Latino and gay or Asian and gay…). More importantly, he offers practical, specific advice for overcoming the various stages of shame many of us grew up with. Downs never explicitly draws the comparison, but the shame-redemption process he describes seems to closely parallel the coming out process in general. And for many gay men, coming out is merely the first step on the long road toward mental, emotional health and self-acceptance.
The quick review: the book is targeted toward gay men, but it’s a worthwhile read if you have any interest in reflection, self-help culture, and even philosophy (if that seems grandiose, just remember that philosophy includes the search for meaning and happiness, whether it's Aristotle or a hippy dippy secular guru doing the philosophising). It’s not as ordered as it could be, it is more than a bit new-agey, but if you can get over that there’s more than a little here. And as a side note: if all of those right wingers who point towards risky behavior in the gay community are really concerned for gay men’s health, spiritual and otherwise, they may consider getting the other side’s perspective rather than merely thumping their bibles, etc.
The Velvet Rage jumps off from the reality that, while it is wonderful that gay rights have made so many strides in the past 100 years, mental health problems still affect a disproportionate number of gay men (in this sense the title is a little misleading; it's not just about velvet rage, but also velvet depression, velvet hyper-sexuality, and velvet long term relationship problems). If you want to approach these problems rationally, you need to look for a root cause; along the way you just might find that this root cause could explain more than a few other things about gay men. (rigorously speaking, Downs isn't being very scientific once he gets past the data about gay men's health problems; in addition to the fact that he's a therapist who specializes in treating gay men, and so is more likely than most to see many extreme cases of gay men beset by mental health issues, one senses that he is often writing about his own journey from denial to chasing extrinsic motivators to an eventual sense of passion and contentment).
Boiling it down to the simplest possible terms, Downs posits that shame is the root of gay men's mental health issues. It's easy to see this when you think about the closet case, a man who denies his own sexuality. It's a little more noteworthy that Downs thinks the flamboyantly living, out-of-the-closet case is also motivated by a sense of shame; in his case he has accepted certain aspects of his sexuality, but still feels a sort of void, a sense that he is imperfect and must compensate for that imperfection. (I have to say that Downs tries to have it both ways here; his pride at the accomplishments of gay men is palpable, and yet he also seem to suggest that the drive to succeed is a sort of pathology). Thus the stereotype of the gay man who is highly strung, tasteful to a fault, and wont to blow up at the slightest imperfection, either in work or in his relationship (I feel like it is also possible to find this personality type in the straight population, and you could argue that this sense of perfectionism is a good thing, but that's neither here nor there). Downs argues that a man who has left these two stages behind is ready to honestly look for authentic relationships that correspond with a sense of intrinsic value. While the details of the internal conversion (and it is a kind of conversion experience) are a bit fuzzy, a gay man in Downs' third stage has managed flip the switch on his shame and look at himself honestly. One of the most interesting aspects of the book is Downs' observation that young gay men naturally look to the most visible, flamboyant members of the gay community as models; beyond the possibility that these people are more likely to engage in risky behavior, there's a greater chance that they will be in Downs' stage two, and so be unhappy themselves; to emulate someone who is himself keyed to external motivators and not an internal sense of worth is to perpetuate the cycle. It is unfortunate that older, well-adjusted gay men in stable long term relationships tend to stick out less.
My reaction to the book is that, while being gay seems to emphasize certain aspects of the journey and to make the path a little more dangerous for a gay man, the trip writ large is something that most people, gay or straight, take. Don't we all want to work and to love in a network of authentic relationships? Aren't we all, at some point, enchanted by external things—easy money, a cool look, a trophy—that look a little shallow in retrospect? Don't we all face a moment in which we have to look for things and activities that are inexplicably, powerfully meaningful for us, not because everyone else in our community feels that way, but because of who we are? In the biggest perspective, the picture doesn't look so different for any of us. And really it's a pretty wonderful thing if gay people and straight people can realize that we're much more similar than we are different.
I read the first half with great interest and plenty of recognition. I underlined many heavily relatable descriptions of the shame/rage spiral that I have experienced. I haven't ever fully faced the shame of being an effeminate bullied kid, he is so on the money about that process, but I did lots of work on the rage and self-worth bit in my 30s. Lots of that was to do with supporting/being supported by a queer community which seems utterly absent from his world. I see where he is going and I can see from the reviews how helpful it has been to some people but I speed-read the last half because there is simply too much of a generational and cultural gap for me to persist, and that's just a difference of worlds I guess. I kept laughing at all the mention of endless circuit parties and endless property buying and the explosions of rage at 'imperfectly catered brunches'. Does nobody write, or make art, or have to work three jobs, or take care of a kid? He uses a very narrow, bourgeois, white, status-driven model of the gay man persistently, which is a shame because the shame/rage model can just as easily apply to all kinds of queer men include those on income support or with agoraphobia or a low sex drive or who are living in a celebrated fat body etc etc, you know, NORMAL people, for whom this dazzling world sounds like something off a basic Netflix-for-gays TV show.
3.5 I believe this book should be read by every gay man and people who want to better understand what it means and entails to grow up gay in Europe or North America. The Velvet Rage puts forward many interesting and thought provoking reflections and ideas, which can help everyone become more self aware and deal with their past, present and future (especially gay men, obviously). I’m including myself in this ‘everyone’, as the book helped me to reflect on some issues, traits and ways of thinking of mine, even in sessions with my therapist. However, it has its flaws. Many times it feels redundant and with little or no research. Also, some of the skills that the author presented felt irresponsible, specially because not all gay man are cis, from a white middle class background and live comfortable lives (although the point of the book is not at all the intersection of all these realities).
“The learning and practice of passion, love, and integrity is what creates meaningful contentment in our lives. Once we have shed the shackles of shame, and seek to create a life worth living, these three become the ultimate goals of our lives.”
This is my second time reading The Velvet Rage and I’m sure I’ll be back for more in the future.
This book is basically the blueprint for any gay man living with shame, and honestly, I think it should be mandatory reading. It helped me come to terms with years of internalised shame and gives you the tools to move forward in a healthier way.
The book is split into three sections, and I really resonated with the second one the last time I read it. I was so deep in my own shame, I couldn’t even process it properly. But this time around, I’m in a much better place, and I feel like this book played a part in getting me here.
It’s definitely heavy, but not all doom and gloom! There’s a whole lot of hope for queer people— I know I choose to live shame-free.
Whether you’re a gay man or know one who could use some understanding and support, this book is life-changing.
For many years I resisted the pressure to read this book. Now that I have read it, what a mistake that was. Before I read it, I thought the thesis of this book felt a bit obvious to me, and probably deep within myself I resisted the idea that my experiences were not completely unique to me, but part of some vast tide of people like me. In many ways, this book presents a thesis that is a bit obvious - that growing up gay lays a foundation for living an unfulfilling and inauthentic life if one does not make an effort to overcome and resist that foundation. Living in the shadow of who one "should be" at the expense of who one could be, would be. It's sad to say that at 35 I still often feel unmoored from who I "really am" - it seems childish and naive to be still on a quest for ones own identity. Maybe conversely to my original resistance, the comforts of this book, now that I am older, is that I am not alone in this journey, that its common, prevalent, and hard.
It's hard to resist the seeming ubiquity of shallow living, consumer living, living for others, living to entertain, living to impress. I hadn't fully realized the extent to which I lived orthogonally to the way others lived. And now I feel that I am swimming upstream; what do I like? what do I want, really? who am I? who do I want to be?
Growing up gay, you become secretive. Unlike other minorities, there is a sense of hiding, a sense of your shame being hideable. A feeling of lightness that rather than being that shame, you can be anything, anyone, whatever the world demands of you, whatever love requires of you. But in time that lightness becomes an ontological stone, heavy. A pit deep inside that feels inextricable, something which becomes heavier the more one handles, moves it.
So much of the modern gay experience is geared toward appearances - a perfect body, an ageless beauty, bacchic excess: drinking, party drugs, sex parties. Somehow this is the perfect life so many seem to want. For me, who enjoys a life of quiet moments, intimacy, mediocrity in my hobbies, sometimes it feels that I am some how faulty. That my retreat from that life of glitz is a failure, a giving up. At turns I look up or down at those who pursue that life with apparent success. Are they happy? I hope so, but does that mean it would make me happy?
I’m definitely not the target market, but that didn’t matter, because it was so interesting getting inside the psychology of gay men. A lot of the lessons I’m learning I’ve already learnt but it’s affirming to read them again anyway and know my experience is shared.
It feels like the book ultimately is for gay men with daddy issues, which I don’t have. Perhaps a gay man going through a rough patch in life, a hard breakup or divorce, or otherwise. None of these apply to me but I can see how they’d help anyone going through similar.
A lot of the language and themes are outdated and quite rigid in some ways, but I was able to easily look past this given the book was originally written in 2006. I read the 2012 second edition. I would argue that at some stages, the views are quite narrow - there’s a generalisation that most gay men have a good relationship with their mother and a not so great relationship with their father, which of course, is mostly true. However my mind went to people who maybe never had a father, or had a mother they didn’t have a good relationship with, or had an exceptional father - a lot of things in the book wouldn’t apply to them and therefore, would they get the same message? This could be said about other themes in the book also. Again, even though a lot didn’t apply to me, I was still able to learn a lot.
Although I believe I’m already living in “stage three” - although perhaps not to the full extent - the book helped me analyse the gay men in my life and why they act the way they do. I am so grateful for this book, I wish I had it 7 or 8 years ago at a time in my life where it would have dramatically changed me. It still dramatically changed me, but in a different way than I think the book intended.
It deepened my understanding for the people around me, and for that alone, it deserves 5 stars.
While I started reading this book believing it was telling me exactly what I needed to hear, the effect quickly wore off as the book progressed to be obviously addressed to a slightly different audience. The book panders to well-to-do gay men who are well on their in years who are looking in retrospect over their lives. While I still found many of the lessons helpful whether or not they have applied to me already or might in the future, the constant anecdotes about men who have everything (ultra-successful career, high social standing, etc.) was a bit obnoxious. But then again, these are the people who can afford to pay Dr. Dowds to be their sounding board, and are more likely to have the leisure/money to pick up myriad titles such as this. A little more inclusiveness would have been nice; seems economic considerations drove the writing of this book a little too much.
It is deeply troubling that a well educated author cannot comprehend that middle-age upper-middle class white men do not represent the queer community as such. I understand that for many aforementioned men this book might be an interesting reading, yet, in the context of today’s world (especially the US), this book is highly irrelevant.
This biography was an eye opening insight into the psyche of a gay man growing up. I felt this story had a lot of relevant and relatable mindsets as I can relate and have experienced some of this.
I did feel that some of these points and perspectives could easily be applied to a hetero relationship.
Despite being only 16 years old, this reads as extremely dated. I'm not sure that it would have been a better read back then, but it certainly feels out of touch now, almost to the point of being harmful towards the LGBTQ+ community at large. A brief list of issues with this book: -It propagates stereotypes such as gay men having strained relationships with their fathers ("We...distance ourselves from our fathers whom we somehow knew would destroy us if he discovered our true nature.") -The premise is that gay men are all ashamed and must overcome this shame, but not everyone faces this, especially as queerness has become more accepted. -This book treats gayness as a monolith and effectively erases intersectional issues that gay POC face; while it's not stated in the book, I suspect that the men in interviews are all or nearly all white. -The book oddly seems to put gay men on a pedestal over both other queer people and over straight people. -It talks about the goal of helping gay men have a "normal life", but that normal life is very much based on heteronormative ideals. Things like having multiple sex partners are equated to not loving oneself, and rates of depression among gay men are suggested to be results of gay men not accepting themselves. -It also reinforces the gender binary on multiple occasions, as well as reinforcing stereotypes of that binary. ("We are different from, on the one hand, women, and on the other hand, straight men. Our lives are a unique blending of testosterone and gentleness, hyper-sexuality and delicate sensuality, rugged masculinity and refined gentility.")
I don't think a book like this would be written or published today, which I suppose is a sign of progress, but it also means that we have moved on to a point where this book has become irrelevant.
This book certainly has its flaws: it’s a little outdated on monogamy and commitment (no space for healthy and considerate consensual non-monogamy) and a bit sweeping about parental figures and their influences on our lives. It’s very 00s in that sense.
However, the core notions of dealing with shame I think still hold and are at times groundbreaking (at least for me).
The story of fifty something Chase who lets go of having to live the most glamorous extravagant life and chooses to be an “ordinary chef at an unremarkable restaurant” because that’s just what he actually likes, felt like almost a bit of an epiphany to me.
I can just enjoy things without the pressure of having to excel at them? Or for them to be life changingly amazing?
And I’ve been walking around a bit lighter and a bit happier in the days since.
A very interesting read about the effects of emotional trauma. While some of the skills seemed over generalized, I do think this book has a lot of value.
At first, I felt a bit sidelined by the author’s tendency to lump all gay men together into one giant category. I felt disenfranchised by the assumption that I must like to party, that I live a promiscuous lifestyle, that I’m obsessive about my body and my appearance. Also, am I supposed to know what a “queen” and a “daddy” are? because cringe and ew, respectively. I thought the criteria for being a gay man were liking men and being one. However—with further reading I realized that Downs’ exploration of some of these tropes (I’d say stereotypes, really) had more to do with his theory that many gay men are plagued with the same challenge of a past rooted in internalized fear and shame. He does a beautiful job of unfolding the way those can affect a person and how they drive us to run from negative feelings and seek external validation. Honestly, I think many people could benefit from the lessons taught in this book, gay or not. Though I didn’t relate to the iterations of gay personality described by Downs (and honestly can we all finally just realize that gay people are just people and the ones who fit your stereotypes are JUST ONE KIND), I did relate to the struggles of owning one’s own emotional growth and not relying on external validation for happiness, so I got a lot out of this book. Definitely a great book by a wise man.
Psychologist Alan Downs believes gay men have an inherent form of shame because of a lack of acceptance from our straight male-dominated society. Because of this shame, we've adapted, suppressing certain behaviors, adding others and seeking validation, in order to overcompensate for our percepted faults and to be better welcomed into society. According to him, gay men often feel unfulfilled because we've lost our "true self," and this has repercussions in our relationships and other endeavors. It's only when we accept our lot in life and lose the shame and pretense will we ever be able to find happiness and satisfication.
Enlightening if a little daunting (and depressing), Downs argues his case clearly, using psychobabble and jargon but interspersing it with easy-to-understand explanations and real-life examples. There are a suprising amount of typos throughout, but that shouldn't take away from the author's message - a message that would benefit more gay men, I think, if they chose to read it.
Good good insights, I couldn't really relate with most of it but at least one learns what to avoid. BUT! I sometimes felt as though I was watching a National Geographic documentary: the gay man when at stage three does tarara, the gay man goes and hunts lol Then there's this last part of the book on how to reinvent yourself to be better, self-help that is! I was bored to distraction. So I just thought: skimming throughhhh!
Great book. Really isolates the average experience of the gay male in our society. While not every topic will apply to every gay male, the author acknowledges this, it does ring true at some level in nearly all gay males I know who have read it. Also, there is valuable knowledge for straight men and women also who wish to better understand their gay counterparts.