Navigating the Perception of a Queer Vocal Tone

Throughout my life, it became evident to me that I was endowed with a multitude of capabilities.

I am capable of performing a lingual trill, mimicking a pigeon (my head bob is truly exceptional), independently maneuvering a kite aloft, and, perhaps most crucially, I can effortlessly fabricate curriculum vitae details even during slumber. Such an array of skills is considerable for a single individual.

However, simulating a deep vocal register is unquestionably not among them.

During my eighth year, my vocal tone was recognized as being "soft" (interpreted as excessively feminine by the general populace and those lacking accurate information). And, in stark contrast to subjects like algebra or the recorder, the ability to resonate loudly, akin to a blue whale, was not imparted during kindergarten. Consequently, to circumvent extensive periods of mockery, I elected the sole course of action that appeared secure.

The deliberate act of remaining silent.

I ceased to shout across recreational areas. Responses to inquiries were given solely when necessity dictated. I feigned timidity to avoid verbal engagement. It is truly astonishing what one can successfully portray merely by asserting an introverted disposition.

Nevertheless, the flaws eventually became apparent. My vocalizations would emerge in a high-pitched, piercing squeak, and these were invariably accompanied by derisive laughter and cutting comments.

A frequent query was why my voice possessed such a nasal quality.

My typical retort would involve something ambiguous and medically phrased, sufficient to silence them until my educational institution—and consequently my tormentors—were altered.

Over time, I learned to adjust. My vocal delivery was deliberately modulated to suit the prevailing environment. For my male professional counterparts, I adopted gruff North Indian vocalizations. A more airy Bombay lilt was employed when conversing with female acquaintances. Solely my most intimate companions were privy to my authentic self—a high-pitched, excitable, and uninhibited individual.

Nevertheless, my vocal quality remained a sensitive subject. This was particularly true during telephone conversations, when telemarketing agents persistently addressed me as 'ma'am.'

Frequently, a greeting would commence with an inquiry as to whether I, perceived as a madam, might be interested in a home loan.

On other occasions, I would be asked if I, presumed to be a miss, wished to sample their novel double cheese burst.

I would mutter a remark affirming my male identity before terminating the call.

Does Vocal Tone Equate to Legitimacy?

The auditory perception of my own voice was deeply displeasing to me. Furthermore, I resented my own self-aversion towards it. Moreover, it was abhorrent to me that societal norms had instilled the belief that a vocal quality akin to mine warranted disdain. This complex internal conflict comprised a chaotic blend of personal disgrace, ingrained homophobia, and mere auditory vibrations.

Inquire of any individual identifying as queer and male, and they will confirm the existence of a precarious equilibrium between possessing a vocal presentation sufficiently "gay" to be recognized within the community, and concurrently, not excessively "gay" to ensure personal security in public spaces. I have cultivated the skill of discerning social atmospheres, consequently lowering my vocal pitch when interacting with husbands, trainers, and ride-sharing operators.

For successive generations, gay men have concealed their natural vocal qualities in an effort to prevent involuntary public disclosure of their sexual orientation, derision, or more severe repercussions. This behavior represents survival tactics disguised as theatrical portrayal. And indeed, I have engaged in this practice myself.

I personally termed this phenomenon self-preservation. Conversely, some individuals label it as toxic masculinity. Regardless of the nomenclature, I embraced it as one might a pervasive fragrance.

A Brunch That Shattered Vocal Restraints

During the previous year, a profound change occurred. The setting was a sunlit, champagne-infused midday meal shared among companions. All attendees were somewhat inebriated and boisterous. In the midst of relating an anecdote, a young child gently pulled at my trousers.

The child, in an innocent manner, posed the query as to why my vocal tone resembled that of a female.

The inquiry was devoid of malice. Yet, its impact was akin to a visceral blow from two decades prior. Instantly, my protective mechanisms became operative.

I retorted sharply that it represented my joyful vocalization, adding that the child's mother also possessed a similar one.

A general chuckle ensued among us. The child's mother, however, did not partake in the merriment. The unease I felt was subsequently suppressed with the consumption of three additional mimosas.

However, at a subsequent point, a realization struck me with profound clarity: my vocal expression is inherently queer. Not in a derogatory or offensive sense, but rather, it is proudly, uniquely, and wholly my own.

Articulate with Conviction

Individuals are not typically subjected to opprobrium for variations in their nasal structure, manual dexterity, or physical stature. So, why should they be subjected to disgrace merely for the characteristics of their vocalizations?

Vocalizations manifest across a spectrum of tonal ranges. Certain voices resonate profoundly; others possess a melodic quality; some exhibit a delicate, wavering characteristic; and still others convey deep emotion or pain. My own voice encompasses all four of these attributes, occasionally even prior to the morning meal.Should that revelation expose my identity, then let it be so. My thoughts and expressions are too numerous to be suppressed. I shall not cease verbalizing merely because my vocal tone diverges from what you anticipate.

Nor, indeed, should you.

An Introduction to the Author

Mr. Aniruddha Mahale, a celebrated writer and past TEDx orator, additionally directs The Guysexual, an online resource for indigenous queer cultural discourse. Having previously published with Juggernaut Books, FirstPost, GQ, and VICE India, his current literary endeavor involves crafting his second novel alongside Harper Collins.

Aniruddha Mahale, serving as Editor.