Why do some gay guys speak different

I can roll my tongue, impersonate a pigeon my head tut is phenomenalfly a kite without help, and most importantly, lie my way through a resume even while asleep. To avoid years of ridicule, I chose the only solution that seemed safe. I stopped yelling across playgrounds. Answered questions only when I had to.

But the cracks showed. My voice would squeak out, high and sharp, and with it came sniggers and snide remarks. Eventually, I adapted. I modulated my voice to fit the room. Gruff North Indian tones for male colleagues. Breathier Bombay lilt with female acquaintances.

Only my closest friends heard the real me—high-pitched, excitable, unfiltered. Still, the voice was a sore spot. I hated the way my voice sounded. And I hated that I hated it. And I hated that society taught me that a voice like mine should be hated. It was a mess of shame, internalised homophobia, and soundwaves.

Generations of gay men have masked their voices to avoid being outed, mocked, or worse. I called it self-preservation. Others call it toxic masculinity.

Gay or straight? His speech may give a hint

Either way, I wore it like cologne. Last year, everything shifted. It was a sunny, champagne-fuelled brunch with friends. Everyone was tipsy and loud. A kid tugged at my trousers mid-joke. Why shame them for how they sound? Voices come in octaves. Some boom. Some sing. Some flutter.

Some ache. Mine does all four, sometimes before breakfast. If that outs me, so be it.