When I came out as a lesbian, my mom cited my rabid N’Sync fandom as evidence that I was obviously mistaken. She was certain that my liking a group of effeminate, nearly prepubescent boys, gyrating to songs about feelings was indicative of my heterosexuality. I’ve used that story as the punch line to my coming out for years. But just recently, I’ve found myself yet again defending my sexual preferences to my own peers in light of some my pop culture life choices, namely “Magic Mike.”
I’m going to go right out there and say it: Channing Tatum is a rhythmic god. Don’t pretend you don’t like dance movies, specifically “Step Up,” or that you haven’t spent time in front of the mirror trying to perfect your own moves after seeing him effortlessly slide across that stage and into the laps of awaiting women. And, sure, maybe my seeing a movie about male strippers multiple times seems a little suspect, seeing as the audience was predominately straight women acting as though they were at the bachelorette party of their lives. I will tell you that I found my jaw on the ground through the majority of the movie. So what?