54 pages • 1 hour read
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Content Warning: This section discusses anti-gay bias, including instances of hate crimes and conversion therapy. It also references racism and domestic abuse.
Harsh and violent anti-gay bias is a major theme in Mr. Loverman, as it forms part of the heteronormative societal context that prevents the protagonist and his lover from coming out. Heteronormativity is an ideology that privileges heterosexuality as an ideal and considers anything outside of it abnormal or unacceptable. By considering the different forms that anti-gay bias can take, Mr. Loverman teases out the connections between societal and individual prejudice.
Barry fears being exposed as gay because he associates it with violence. Barry recalls that he lived in fear in Antigua, stating, “I was afraid I’d be up before a judge on some trumped-up charge of indecent exposure; or end up lying on an operating table with a bar of wood between my teeth and electric volts destroying parts of my brain forever”(38). Notably, the violence in this passage is institutional; it refers to shock therapy, implying that the legal and/or medical establishments would treat Barry’s orientation as a disease in need of fixing and respond with force. This societal endorsement of violence, the novel suggests, creates an environment in which hate crimes against LGBT people become more likely. Delroy Simmons, a Jamaican electrician, is shot by his wife’s brother after his wife discovers him with a man. Lola, Maxine’s friend, receives a death threat from his own father when he comes out and is hospitalized due to his brother’s abuse. When Larry, Barry’s brother, finds Barry having sex with Morris, Barry fears that Larry will kill him.
Mr. Loverman depicts organized religion as another source of anti-gay ideology. Carmel and her friends attend a church where the pastor goes so far as to advocate sexual assault as a punishment for the “sin” of being gay: “[A]s for the homos, they goin’ end up raped by Lucifer himself, and they won’t get no kicks from it either, because his scorching hot rod’s so big it will go in one end and come out the other” (154). Carmel and her friends echo such ideas when gossiping about another church member’s daughter’s illness. They argue that God must be punishing her because she’s a lesbian, and Merty cites the Bible to back up her claim: “Does it not say in Romans that if man lies with man as he lies with woman, he will surely be put to death? Same goes with woman-woman business” (60). Carmel remains anti-gay to the very end of the novel, displaying a hybrid understanding of gayness as both a disease and a sin. She refers to gay men as “homosicksical” but also tells Barry that “the only person who can help [him] now is God” (282).
Even those characters who do not advocate for the killing, torture, or erasure (i.e., via conversion therapy) of gay people have absorbed some of the same prejudices. For example, Donna prides herself on her progressive views when she confronts Merty’s hateful rhetoric. However, when Merty pushes back, Donna’s own anti-gay bias is exposed, as it’s evident that she wouldn’t accept Daniel’s orientation if he were gay. Daniel himself displays anti-gay bias when he tells his grandfather that he has disrespected him by coming out. Heteronormativity also informs Carmel’s and Donna’s suspicions that Barry is cheating on Carmel with other women. They don’t even consider that Barry could be cheating on her with a man because it’s outside of their heteronormative worldview.
In this environment, Barry is not just anxious about coming out but also somewhat ashamed of his own orientation; he has internalized certain heteronormative viewpoints. For example, Barry argues that gay liberationists are too open in expressing their orientation and that he believes gay people should be more discreet, effectively policing how gay people should act. Barry further distances himself from the struggles of other gay men by saying, “I ain’t no homosexual, I am a…Barrysexual!” (142). Barry finally confronts his misconceptions about other gay men when Maxine takes him to LGBT-friendly spaces in London, and his growth is evident in his public displays of affection for Morris. Nevertheless, Barry’s struggles to accept himself demonstrate the consequences of living in an anti-gay society that discourages people both tacitly and overtly from coming out or living freely.
Barry opts to keep his orientation a secret for most of his life due to his fear of alienation and persecution. This deception causes a ripple effect of more lying, secrecy, and the repression of desire and other feelings. These repressed feelings and secrets often spill over during moments of conflict between the novel’s characters, sometimes in abusive (or at least harmful) ways.
Barry has kept his orientation a secret from his community since he knew he was gay as a child, but he does covertly indulge in relationships with Morris and other men. His secretive behavior causes Carmel and Donna to suspect that Barry is having affairs with women, causing his relationships with both his wife and daughter to erode and be filled with distrust. By the end of the novel, Barry has not repaired his relationship with either Carmel or Donna. Barry even suggests that Carmel might never want to see him again, as she has accused him of wasting 50 years of her life. When Barry does finally come out to a member of his family, it’s not how he planned. Rather, he comes out to his grandson in a moment of anger in which he refers to himself by the anti-gay slur “cocksucker.” What could have been a moment of self-celebration ends up being, at best, a show of defiance that temporarily fractures his relationship with his grandson.
The harmful effects of secrecy and repression are equally clear in Carmel’s storyline. Carmel experiences sexual dissatisfaction and loneliness because of both Barry’s neglect and her own religious beliefs. She understands that Barry is hiding something from her, but she doesn’t know what. This causes her to always be on the lookout for patterns of cheating and even to lash out abusively at her husband. Carmel’s submerged awareness of her own hypocrisy exacerbates the problem. She is devoted to the sanctity of her marriage and ignores her own feelings of desire for a long time to preserve the veneer of a successful relationship. However, she eventually ends up looking for sexual satisfaction from her coworker Reuben. Though she finally feels fulfilled in this relationship, the affair ends due to her unwillingness to leave her husband—again due to her religious convictions. The combined sense that she has violated her beliefs and that she has sacrificed something Barry has not—romantically and sexually satisfying relationships—fuels her abusive outbursts. It is only when she finally discovers the truth of Barry’s affairs that she feels empowered to leave him. Being set free by the truth, she enters a satisfying and healthy relationship with Hubert.
Donna’s conflict with Barry is another instance of repression and secrecy finding an outlet during an emotional fight. Donna believes that she once caught her father visiting brothels to sleep with other women. Although her assumptions are incorrect, she has kept this belief a secret for 30 years, and it has given her a very negative view of her father and of men in general. When she finally airs her suspicions, she does so hurtfully, telling Barry, “[Y]ou’re to blame for my man problems. I don’t trust men, because you caused Mum pain all her married life […] I don’t expect to end up in a happy partnership because of you” (232). This indicates that her unexpressed feelings toward her father have influenced other important decisions and actions in her life, underscoring the cascading negative consequences of deceit and denial.
Mr. Loverman centers on marginalized characters who rely on a sense of community to survive, as systems of power have neglected or harmed them. This sense of community is seen in the novel’s representation of the Caribbean diaspora; the novel’s Caribbean characters have moved not only from their homes to a foreign land but to a place where they are subject to racism. Communal support is also important for the novel’s LGBT characters, whose concerns have been marginalized by an anti-gay society.
Evaristo provides multiple examples of the kinds of institutional obstacles immigrants and people of color can face in a country like England. Barry remarks that “banks never lent [Caribbean immigrants] no money in those days” and that it “d]idn’t matter how viable [their] proposal, how squeaky clean [their] finances, how impeccable [their] references” were (119). Financial institutions are racially biased, which exacerbates the economic disadvantages associated with coming from a colonized region. Similarly, Maxine struggles to succeed as a stylist, as her industry relies on connections and wealth that she doesn’t possess. A different kind of institutional prejudice is seen when Carmel suffers from postnatal depression. Barry decides to wait until the worst is over before getting her the care she deserves due to his awareness of medical racism; he fears that Carmel would be treated more harshly because of the color of her skin and where she comes from.
Because these systems of power exclude the Caribbean community, immigrants must rely on one another to find ways to succeed. Maxine’s father finances her company himself so that she can utilize her talents fully. Barry himself also financially succeeds with the help of the Caribbean community. In turn, Barry has the responsibility to pay back the community he comes from. He has paid for the private schooling of many members of his family, including his grandson, Daniel. Barry also sends money back to Antigua to help feed and clothe the community. This indicates both the strength of community bonds and the burdens associated with the legacy of colonialism; immigrants face pressure to succeed not only to improve their own lives but to improve the lives of others.
An illustrative example of how the Caribbean support system functions concerns Carmel and her friends from Antigua, as they all lend a hand in mothering each other’s children. This is especially apparent when Carmel suffers from postnatal depression and is incapable of looking after her daughters. Carmel’s friends have little time and resources, but they sacrifice the little that they have for the well-being of the community. When Carmel experiences her change of fortune at the end of the novel, she brings her friends back to Antigua, returning the favor to her community just as her husband did earlier.
The flipside of this reliance on community means that those who are excluded from it are uniquely vulnerable—e.g., the novel’s gay Caribbean characters, who find themselves cut off from what would otherwise be their main source of support. Merle’s houselessness illustrates this; her family kicks her out of the house when she comes out as a lesbian. Barry secretly houses her and pays for her education in another show of communal support. In this instance, however, the community revolves around their shared orientation: an understanding that members of the LGBT community are persecuted and should look out for each other. Barry receives similar support when Maxine’s LGBT friends welcome Barry and Morris into their circle despite barely knowing them. Lola even provides them with reading materials to assist them in understanding the power structures that have oppressed gay Black men and that have kept them from coming out. These same friends support Barry in his decision to leave Carmel and live freely as his true self, giving him much-needed confidence. Although the novel does not gloss over the dangers of losing one’s community as a marginalized person, it suggests that finding a new one is always possible.
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