THERE'S AN ONLINE media campaign currently underway in America to encourage school children not to use the word "gay" to describe something that is bad, stupid and wrong, writes John Butler.
For a variety of reasons that are just too obvious to bother explaining, I've always hated the misuse of this word in such a way, and using it in a negative context is just as common in these parts as it is across the pond, by otherwise reasonable people. How sad is that, in 2008? That such a campaign need be run at all underlines how facile clichés can be. Sticks and stones break bones for sure, but names are equally damaging, and hint at an underlying bigotry that is much harder to eradicate.
It's going to take spade work to restore the word "gay" to its rightful descriptive function; that of labelling same-sex persuasion, unconditional happiness and legendary talk-show hosts, and while we're at it, we should consider reclaiming some other misapplied terms from the same field. Yesterday, my word-a-day feature offered up "boulevardier" - "\boo-luh-var-DYAY; bul-uh-\, noun: A frequenter of city boulevards, especially in Paris. A sophisticated, worldly, and socially active man; a man who frequents fashionable places; a man-about-town".
To be defined by the manner in which you wander around the town - what a nice idea! You know, I think I could be a half-decent boulevardier if it didn't interfere with my poncing. "Ponce" used to be understood as British vernacular slang for a dandy, fop or pimp, deriving possibly from the name of the southernmost seaport of Puerto Rico, but Merriam-Webster has it as "a person acting childishly, dangerously, or not being serious about the task at hand". In their zeal to ascribe a pejorative meaning to the word, every dictionary has ignored the fact that true poncing is, in fact, a most enviable pastime.
For me, poncing is ambling around the place with even less aim, deadline or reason than the boulevardier. Poncing is an utterly absurd, and therefore hugely enjoyable activity, and though times are hard in the boulevardier sector, poncing happens to be recession-proof. His chosen mode of transport - apart from his ambling feet - is the humble bus. Yes, ponces ride the bus, because nobody knows how long it's going to take, and that ambiguity is the ponce's delight. Bus travel also enables capriciousness. While taking the papers on the top deck, the ponce might glance out of the window and see something that takes his fancy; at which point he can ring the bell, descend and . . . quite frankly, ponce his way across the street for a closer look.
You cannot ponce on a train, car or taxi, because with each of them, you're going somewhere specific and you've made a statement about when you would like to arrive there. Such behaviour shows respect for the timetable, and for the ticking clock, and uptight, non-spontaneous behaviour is not ponce-compatible. For the ponce, there is no travelling from "A" to "B" - it is "Y" to "K", via "D" - and he (for the ponce is always male) is greatly aided in his poncing by carrying some kind of cane or stick. The ponce is perfectly able to walk without the aid of a stick, and therefore they are vital for the job of poncing. Apart from twirling it occasionally in the manner of silent film stars, he can use it to point out a specific slice of cake behind the counter of the patisserie, for the ponce also overuses French words.
The ponce will finger fabrics at a haberdashery, inspect an armoire outside an antique shop, and maybe stop for coffee at this little place he simply stumbles upon. He can rap on another window with the clawed cane hand to let the shopkeeper know of which silk scarf he is most desirous, and for the record, an umbrella will not do. Umbrellas suggest forward planning - a notion at odds with the aimless delight of poncing. If it rains, ponces duck into a matinee.
Oddly, some dictionary sources also claim "poncing" as a definition of rape, or of someone who procures customers for a prostitute - I guess that means a pimp. And dictionary defined ponces such as myself should take inspiration from the shining example provided by the word "pimp", and the rehabilitation of that word, if not the practice, back into the warm folds of societal acceptance.
All Europeans over the age of 30 know "pimps" in their original sense - men who procure customers for a prostitute - but the word was long ago reclaimed by young urban kids in America to describe something fresh, cool or exciting. In the 1990s, you could hear phrases such as "Yo! That hoodie is pimpin" / "That is a pimp-ass hoodie" without looking for Huggy Bear.
These kids took a leaf out of Iceberg Slim's autobiography - or, more likely, from Snoop Dogg. Snoop and others in the hip hop community took the pimp persona that Slim had so vividly evoked, drew inspiration from the bit when he had a bunch of women at his beck and call, and conveniently ignored the fact that Pimp - The Story of My Life was in fact a thoroughly depressing cautionary tale.
As far as rap personae go, I was always more enthralled by one of Kool Keith's many alter egos, "Fly Ricky the wine-taster". But that's because I'm a ponce. The push-and-pull of language is an endlessly enjoyable thing, and "Pimp" is a beacon of hope for those of us who would like to see other words reclaimed from atop the slag-heap. But for now, we all know which word remains at the top of the list. By way of summary, listen up children . . . you know what the gayest thing of all is? Homophobia.