How Hooters Became a Refuge for Young Gay Men

[j brown's body]

"...I was 14, maybe 15, and in ways I could not yet name, it was becoming apparent that I was not like most of the boys I grew up with. My grandfather pulled off a sun-bleached stretch of highway to take me somewhere new: Hooters. Our waitress was a tall, brassy blonde — a caricature of the caricature that is a Hooters waitress. She was in her late 20s with a deep yet indistinct Southern accent, and I could tell she clocked me almost immediately. Who knows if it was how I held myself or how my voice quivered or how my eyes slid away from hers. But later in the meal, when my grandfather went to the restroom, she slipped into the booth across from me and leaned in close. “You’re perfect just the way you are, kid,” she said, or something near enough to it, her voice low, kind and certain.

Consider the delicious irony that a chain restaurant famed for its cleavage and chicken wings somehow became a secret sanctuary for young gay men. I was not aware of this side of Hooters until a few weeks ago, when — after Bloomberg’s report that the company is considering bankruptcy — I posted the story of lunch with my grandfather on social media. It led to hundreds of direct messages from other gay men who felt the trajectory of their lives had changed after a single meal at Hooters.

“Conversion therapy with a side of ranch,” speaking loosely, was the wry refrain I saw time and again in my inbox. So many stories began the same way, with fathers or grandfathers, unsure how to connect with the boys they loved, coaxing them into the family sedan in their early to midteens.

It was an act of kindness, at least in theory. Their relatives could see the young men struggling to hide an unspoken it. Or perhaps the boys merely did not care for UFC Fight Night. Either way, only once they were seated at a table, surrounded by the din of ESPN and the stench of spilled lager, did they understand the purpose of the meal. It was a baptism into manhood — one that would backfire beautifully."

Link

What a great story. The irony of taking boys to Hooters to become "men" as the wait staff affirms them, in their view, if their own sexuality.

Perhaps it's due to waitresses simply wanting everyone to be comfortable. But they come to table with quite a bit of baggage themselves with the expectation that they reflect a sexual ideal themselves.

 

[Napoleon]

A restaurant chain designed to profit from misogyny is a strange choice of “sanctuary.”

 

[Gatsby]

I feel sorry for the women who work there and constantly get leered at (or worse) by creepy dudes.

It's so strange that in a country where we have laws about sexual harassment in the workplace, it's just accepted that we have a popular restaurant chain where sexual harassment is the entire product they sell.

 

[BirdinHand]

"...I was 14, maybe 15, and in ways I could not yet name, it was becoming apparent that I was not like most of the boys I grew up with. My grandfather pulled off a sun-bleached stretch of highway to take me somewhere new: Hooters. Our waitress was a tall, brassy blonde — a caricature of the caricature that is a Hooters waitress. She was in her late 20s with a deep yet indistinct Southern accent, and I could tell she clocked me almost immediately. Who knows if it was how I held myself or how my voice quivered or how my eyes slid away from hers. But later in the meal, when my grandfather went to the restroom, she slipped into the booth across from me and leaned in close. “You’re perfect just the way you are, kid,” she said, or something near enough to it, her voice low, kind and certain.

Consider the delicious irony that a chain restaurant famed for its cleavage and chicken wings somehow became a secret sanctuary for young gay men. I was not aware of this side of Hooters until a few weeks ago, when — after Bloomberg’s report that the company is considering bankruptcy — I posted the story of lunch with my grandfather on social media. It led to hundreds of direct messages from other gay men who felt the trajectory of their lives had changed after a single meal at Hooters.

“Conversion therapy with a side of ranch,” speaking loosely, was the wry refrain I saw time and again in my inbox. So many stories began the same way, with fathers or grandfathers, unsure how to connect with the boys they loved, coaxing them into the family sedan in their early to midteens.

It was an act of kindness, at least in theory. Their relatives could see the young men struggling to hide an unspoken it. Or perhaps the boys merely did not care for UFC Fight Night. Either way, only once they were seated at a table, surrounded by the din of ESPN and the stench of spilled lager, did they understand the purpose of the meal. It was a baptism into manhood — one that would backfire beautifully."

Link

What a great story. The irony of taking boys to Hooters to become "men" as the wait staff affirms them, in their view, if their own sexuality.

Perhaps it's due to waitresses simply wanting everyone to be comfortable. But they come to table with quite a bit of baggage themselves with the expectation that they reflect a sexual ideal themselves.

Nothing about this story would surprise anyone that spent any amount of time waiting tables or bartending.

You see enough people? You learn to “read” people pretty instantly.

And nothing surprising about seeing some people try to “bury” the gay using Hooters either.

Sexism and misogyny are much more acceptable to some folks than being gay is.

 

[Demon]

"...I was 14, maybe 15, and in ways I could not yet name, it was becoming apparent that I was not like most of the boys I grew up with. My grandfather pulled off a sun-bleached stretch of highway to take me somewhere new: Hooters. Our waitress was a tall, brassy blonde — a caricature of the caricature that is a Hooters waitress. She was in her late 20s with a deep yet indistinct Southern accent, and I could tell she clocked me almost immediately. Who knows if it was how I held myself or how my voice quivered or how my eyes slid away from hers. But later in the meal, when my grandfather went to the restroom, she slipped into the booth across from me and leaned in close. “You’re perfect just the way you are, kid,” she said, or something near enough to it, her voice low, kind and certain.

Consider the delicious irony that a chain restaurant famed for its cleavage and chicken wings somehow became a secret sanctuary for young gay men. I was not aware of this side of Hooters until a few weeks ago, when — after Bloomberg’s report that the company is considering bankruptcy — I posted the story of lunch with my grandfather on social media. It led to hundreds of direct messages from other gay men who felt the trajectory of their lives had changed after a single meal at Hooters.

“Conversion therapy with a side of ranch,” speaking loosely, was the wry refrain I saw time and again in my inbox. So many stories began the same way, with fathers or grandfathers, unsure how to connect with the boys they loved, coaxing them into the family sedan in their early to midteens.

It was an act of kindness, at least in theory. Their relatives could see the young men struggling to hide an unspoken it. Or perhaps the boys merely did not care for UFC Fight Night. Either way, only once they were seated at a table, surrounded by the din of ESPN and the stench of spilled lager, did they understand the purpose of the meal. It was a baptism into manhood — one that would backfire beautifully."

Link

What a great story. The irony of taking boys to Hooters to become "men" as the wait staff affirms them, in their view, if their own sexuality.

Perhaps it's due to waitresses simply wanting everyone to be comfortable. But they come to table with quite a bit of baggage themselves with the expectation that they reflect a sexual ideal themselves.

I love that! If I had known that kind of stuff was going on, I would have gone to a Hooters sometimes, just to support them.

 

[CLAX1911]

"...I was 14, maybe 15, and in ways I could not yet name, it was becoming apparent that I was not like most of the boys I grew up with. My grandfather pulled off a sun-bleached stretch of highway to take me somewhere new: Hooters. Our waitress was a tall, brassy blonde — a caricature of the caricature that is a Hooters waitress. She was in her late 20s with a deep yet indistinct Southern accent, and I could tell she clocked me almost immediately. Who knows if it was how I held myself or how my voice quivered or how my eyes slid away from hers. But later in the meal, when my grandfather went to the restroom, she slipped into the booth across from me and leaned in close. “You’re perfect just the way you are, kid,” she said, or something near enough to it, her voice low, kind and certain.

Consider the delicious irony that a chain restaurant famed for its cleavage and chicken wings somehow became a secret sanctuary for young gay men. I was not aware of this side of Hooters until a few weeks ago, when — after Bloomberg’s report that the company is considering bankruptcy — I posted the story of lunch with my grandfather on social media. It led to hundreds of direct messages from other gay men who felt the trajectory of their lives had changed after a single meal at Hooters.

“Conversion therapy with a side of ranch,” speaking loosely, was the wry refrain I saw time and again in my inbox. So many stories began the same way, with fathers or grandfathers, unsure how to connect with the boys they loved, coaxing them into the family sedan in their early to midteens.

It was an act of kindness, at least in theory. Their relatives could see the young men struggling to hide an unspoken it. Or perhaps the boys merely did not care for UFC Fight Night. Either way, only once they were seated at a table, surrounded by the din of ESPN and the stench of spilled lager, did they understand the purpose of the meal. It was a baptism into manhood — one that would backfire beautifully."

Link

What a great story. The irony of taking boys to Hooters to become "men" as the wait staff affirms them, in their view, if their own sexuality.

Perhaps it's due to waitresses simply wanting everyone to be comfortable. But they come to table with quite a bit of baggage themselves with the expectation that they reflect a sexual ideal themselves.

Perhaps it's that a woman who is meant to be eye candy is painfully aware of the guys that don't think of her that way I wouldn't know because I've never been on that side of it but maybe it's blatantly obvious.