erotic heritage
Entering the Tom of Finland home in Los Angeles felt like visiting the leather-clad uncles I never knew I needed. I learned on my recent tour in February that there are several men who work at the foundation full-time and actually occupy the rooms they show off to visitors on weekend tours. Evidence of lived-in rooms only presented itself in the leather moto boots and thigh-high waders that lined the walls. The personal effects were portraits of themselves, much younger, either painted by Tom or other famous men in the family. I had been wanting to go for a few years now to see how it matched up to the movie (spoiler: not the same house, not even in LA), but my trips to LA never seemed to overlap with the few visiting hours per week.
My tour group consisted of a mix of people- an older straight couple, an older gay couple, a younger gay man, and me and my girlfriend Kala. We sat out on the front porch while these elder leathermen finished their cigarettes and asked us all why we wanted to tour the Tom of Finland house. My excited answer of “We’re leather people from New York,” was met with a nod of understanding. As it turned out, we were the only two leather people on the tour. Everyone else listed reasons for visiting that apparently weren’t memorable.
After marveling at the entryway ceiling in which a gay Sistine Chapel scene was painted, the tour began in the living room with the bold introduction that this house was home to the largest erotic art collection in the world— second only to the Vatican. The two tour guides, both of whom knew Tom while he was alive, passed us back and forth taking us through different sections of the house. The walls were lined with art, while some of the walls and ceilings were directly painted on, mostly featured ToF-esque buff men with, of course, lots of dicks everywhere. They had some pieces by GB Jones, but they were so tame that I wouldn't even consider them PG-13. It made me wonder if the foundation exhibited any erotic art that was not cis-male and cis-dick centric, but honestly I came knowing what to expect.
As we progressed on the tour learning about the history of a very specific brand of homosexuality created by Tom’s pencils on the tail of WW2, we learned that he stopped drawing for a period of time when the AIDS epidemic hit. He felt a heavy weight in that his overt erotica depicting filthy fucking was at least partially responsible for the spread of the virus. He took a mourning hiatus as he lost his inspiration. When he eventually started drawing again, he introduced condoms on his men. The lush landscapes and outdoors scenes he created as backdrops for his men started to become barren. There was a little less muscle.
You may already know that I’m not a cryer, but when I heard this I could not stop an unusual wetness from forming in my eyes— several drops even escaping down my cheeks. What I lack in tears, Kala more than makes up for. I looked over at her and she gave me a sad glance, unsurprisingly already wiping away her tears. Quickly checking out the other patrons, I couldn’t see anyone else getting visibly emotional. Something about being in the presence of these men who survived the AIDS crisis, who outlived Tom and many other loved ones, who are passing on this history and knowledge of highly censored art depicting their criminalized sexuality was nothing short of moving.
Today we often think of the masc4masc ToF leathermen as somewhat bad, promoting damaging, unattainable beauty standards, and potentially even the origin of “no fats, no fems.” I think it’s important to also contextualize this muscular, erotic figure in a different light, historically. In her book Deviations, gay leather historian and DJ Gayle Rubin is interviewed in 1994 by none other than Judith Butler. Gayle gets a little spicy in this interview defending her brilliance (“Judy Butler” contributed an essay titled “Lesbian S&M: The Politics of Dis-Illusion” to the radical feminist anthology Against Sadomasochism, 1982). She schools Judith and us, her readers, on framing the ubiquitous muscular leathermen as somewhat revolutionary.
Rubin says, “Among gay men, the adoption of masculinity is complicated, and has a lot to do with rejecting the traditional equations of male homosexual desire with effeminacy… A masculine homosexual (like a feminine lesbian) was once considered an oxymoron; such persons existed but were “unthinkable” in terms of the hegemonic models of sexuality and gender. The development of the leather community is part of a long historical process in which masculinity has been claimed, asserted, or reappropriated by male homosexuals. Gay male leather, including gay male S/M codes both desiring/desired subjects and desired/desiring objects as masculine. In this system a man can be overpowered, restrained, tormented, and penetrated, yet retain his masculinity, desirability, and subjectivity.”
When the tour ended, I was eager to ask the guide some questions but the younger gay man was already chatting him up. I managed to join their conversation and even got in a few questions. I learned that apparently straight women are some of the biggest patrons of ToF. Then, the younger guy looks over at me, and then at Kala and says, “Can I ask you ladies a question? (Shockingly he does not wait for an answer) So what do you girls think of all these dicks? Does that like, make you uncomfortable or are you cool with it? Because I know, like, girls love sex toys and stuff but us guys, we don’t need any of that stuff.”
What I said was, “No, it doesn’t make us uncomfortable. This is pretty normal in our world.” What I thought was how idiotic he sounded projecting some weird fear of male homosexuality onto two leatherdykes who decided to spend 3 hours on a very short trip from New York to tour a house that is a literal shrine to masculine homo erotica. No, we are more than okay— we are the only ones who cried on this tour and the last ones in the house asking questions about history. But thanks for your concern, bro.
A few years ago I discovered the idea of erotic heritage (forgive me as I don’t remember where exactly but probably in some book as I definitely did not make it up). It has been top of my mind ever since. As an American with no identifiable traditions/culture and no family, my erotic heritage is pretty much all I have. Queer leather lineage is as important to me as anyone on this earth sharing my same blood. What I mean to say is that even though I’m a woman and a lesbian, ToF men are more my erotic ancestors than that man’s from the tour. There’s a lineage and an understanding amongst queers when leather is your religion. The fact that that guy even asked us that question shows that he is not one of us for many reasons. He is assuming we don’t have dicks. He is assuming we are kind of homophobic? He is assuming lesbians are not one of the largest consumers of gay male pornography (can someone confirm what I know to be true?). He does not know that leathrdykes and leathermen have a history of playing together. He is assuming so many things in asking one simple question that reveals his own erotic heritage is probably closer to a Mayor Pete than a Tom of Finland.
I have mostly learned about my erotic heritage in books written by leather ancestors. As such, I have read many great books on BDSM by gay men. In 2019 when I was invited to speak about FIST at a luncheon at the SouthEast LeatherFest, I talked about the importance of preserving our history and writing our stories. I invoked the names of some of my erotic ancestors, “the leather dykes, the high faggot perverts, the butch/femme lifestylers, the leather daddies of all genders, and the boot lickers.” After the lunch I was corrected on several points in my speech by an elder leatherdyke named Jodi (who turned out to have founded the LA dyke SM club Leather & Lace in 1980). She told me that I can’t call her my ancestor because she’s still alive. Which, by the way, was an absolutely excellent point!
My hour long conversation with Jodi took place on a couch in the conference hotel lobby while her service dog waited patiently at her feet. To my delight, she recounted stories of a nascent leatherdyke scene in San Francisco and Los Angeles, descriptions of bottoming contests, being a double fisting bottom— details of her own erotic history floated out of her mouth and landed oh so happily in my ears. This was another time I remember those pesky saltwater droplets forming in my eyes. She reminded me of the importance of elders in our community who have a wealth of stories but a shortage of places to put them. Even the most tame tales demand respect as their relationships were far riskier than ours, whether due to AIDS, criminalized homosexuality, or severe repercussions of being labeled a sexual pervert.
As the tour guides at the ToF house walked Kala and I to the front door, their last remaining patrons, they generously continued answering our questions pausing only to introduce Kala to the house cat. They liked us so much that they gave us a goodie bag and told us about another leather event happening in the city that evening. I realize that the ToF house tour brought me to the same place my conversation with Jodi did— tearful at discovering another piece of my pervert lineage.