Columns

No Homo – Lou Donaldson

It is nothing to say how useful ‘no homo’ is as a tool in your vocabulary. I was chillin’ with ma boy, and we had been reminiscing about the good old days that everyone is always talkin’ about, but it was almost impossible to remember them. We talked about the times when we was boys and boys was boys, while kickin’ back a couple of Busch with our zoot suits on.

Actually it was wine from a decanter. Or maybe we was sippin’ champagne cognac? It was something real smooth like, and I had to tell my boy that I loved him, and I said, ‘No homo, of course.” And he said, “Yeah, of course.” And then it hit me. Of course when I told my boy that I loved him that it would be ‘no homo.’ That is always obvious, everybody knows that. No homo serves us all a very important service. It’s that lingering thought that something you said kinda came off gay. That sounded kinda gay. But you know what I mean, you say something to your boy like you like his shirt and you think he looks good, and you tell him he looks good, but then you think that could have sounded kind of gay and you wonder if your boy kinda thought it sounded gay, and then the thought of someone questioning your sexuality is really gay. But then came ‘no homo,’ and that problem was solved. Now you can freely say what you want without having to worry about comin’ off like some gay dood. Now we’ve come to a new point of comfort due to to the ‘no homo.’ It has made us so certain of our own sexuality, that we can say things and then say ‘no homo’ and it almost sounds redundant. And it is. No homo is no longer required to be said. You can say things all you want, and if something sounds kinda gay well of course it’s no homo, you don’t even have to say it. In a way, ‘no homo’ is one of the most clever phrases anyone ever came up with. The concept of something resolving a problem in language and social relationships and then dying off on its own after the problem has been permanently fixed is incredible.