Perfectionism as Protection: Gay Men, Shame, and the Longing to Belong

So many of us who grow up gay — even in seemingly affirming environments — come to understand that there are parts of ourselves that feel unacceptable. Maybe on may cross their legs in the "wrong way", throw a ball "wrong", be too tender or effeminate.

To survive in unfriendly, even dangerous, environments, many of us learn that we need to perform. Add intersectional elements - race, gender, class, the list goes on, and the pressure can considerably increase. One common way to cope in an unwelcoming world is through perfectionism. What can add layers of complexity to this is that we’re often rewarded for it. For being high-achieving, composed, accomplished. But, at what cost?

In San Francisco — a city that promises safety and belonging for LGBTQ+ people — this perfectionism can be especially seductive. Be the best dressed, the most successful, the most emotionally available-yet-impeccably boundaried, the fittest, the smartest, or most interesting at dinner. If I can get ahead of all this, rise above it, or be perfect, I can be safe. I can belong.

Why Perfectionism Makes So Much Sense

Perfectionism is often mistaken for a character trait — something rigid, self-inflicted, maybe even arrogant. But for many gay men this can be protective more than anything else.

Perfectionism can become a strategy for avoiding the deep vulnerability of rejection. It says, If I can’t be “normal,” then I’ll be exceptional. It helps some of us feel protected from judgment, exclusion, even violence — especially if we grew up in environments where being ourselves wasn’t entirely safe.

It’s important to say: perfectionism is smart. It often works — for a while. We achieve, we impress, we control. And we may be celebrated for it. But over time, the same strategies that helped us feel safe can start to hurt us — isolating us, exhausting us, making it hard to connect honestly with ourselves and others.

Perfectionism in the Nervous System

The roots of perfectionism often live deeper than conscious thought. Many people might describe growing up with an internal alarm system: a subtle but constant scan for danger. The feeling of being “on” — carefully curating tone, gender presentation, appearance, posture, interests, emotional range — depending on the room they’re in.

This kind of vigilance takes an enormous toll. It can impact us emotionally and often somatically.

And the adaptations can become confusing: especially when what once kept us safe — stoicism, composure, high standards — begins to get in the way of intimacy. The parts of us we worked hardest to hide and protect are often the ones most longing to be seen. And, more times than not, it is through these vulnerable parts that we can find the deepest sense of security and connection with others. At best, counterintuitive.

The Inner Critic Isn’t the Enemy — But It Isn’t the Whole Truth

Many of us live with a deeply convincing inner voice that insists we aren’t enough. It says, Try harder. Be better. Don’t mess up. Don’t be too much. Don’t need anyone.

That voice often got internalized in early environments where love was conditional — or simply felt that way. The critic helped us fit in, avoid punishment, and maintain attachment. It tried to keep us close to what we thought we needed to survive.

But it can’t recognize when the danger has passed. It doesn't know that connection — the real, nourishing kind — can’t be earned through perfection. It can only be met through presence and vulnerability.

When Perfectionism Enters Community Spaces

Perfectionism doesn’t just live inside us. It often plays out between us — especially in queer male spaces. There can be unspoken social hierarchies: based on body type, wealth, emotional fluency, sexual desirability, social capital.

The “A-Bear” phenomenon is one example: groups of charismatic, visible gay men who often set the tone for what’s desirable — on Instagram, in nightlife, in friendship circles. These dynamics can create a subtle but real pressure to conform, impress, and measure up.

It’s easy to feel like belonging is a reward you win by being desirable enough. And it’s hard to admit when we feel on the outside looking in — especially if we’ve been told we should feel “proud” by now.

It’s important to hold these dynamics gently. The desire to belong is not shameful. And those we might compare ourselves to — the A-Bears, the influencers, the “it” gays — are often struggling, too. These performances can seem to be about vanity on the surface, but often have an undercurrent or real pain.

No one escapes this without cost.

How Perfectionism Shapes Our Relationships

Perfectionism doesn't just hurt our self-image. It impacts how we love.

We might idealize a partner to avoid disappointment, or criticize a partner for not meeting a fantasy we didn’t realize we were holding. We may silently fear that our own flaws will make us unlovable — so we keep performing, even in our most intimate spaces.

Sometimes we find ourselves resenting our partners for their humanness. Other times, we collapse inward when our perfectionist strategies fail to secure the connection we hoped for.

Letting go of the ideal often means grieving the version of safety we thought perfection would provide.

What Healing Can Look Like

Healing perfectionism is not about giving up your standards, your creativity, or your ambition. It’s about loosening the grip of fear underneath them.

That often starts with curiosity and care:

• Noticing when the inner critic is active — and asking what it’s trying to protect

• Understanding the historical origins of your perfectionism, especially in relation to queerness, attachment, and survival

• Practicing self-compassion, especially in moments when you don’t “measure up”

• Risking authenticity in places where perfection used to feel required
  

Therapy can be one space for this kind of work — especially with a clinician who understands the intersection of perfectionism and queer identity. In my own practice offering gay therapy in San Francisco and queer couple therapy in the Bay Area, I witness the courage it takes to unlearn these patterns — and the freedom that follows.

A Note to the Part of You That Tries So Hard

You didn’t choose to become perfectionistic for no reason. You were responding to something real.

And while that perfection once helped you feel safe, you don’t have to keep performing to be worthy. You don’t have to be extraordinary to be loved.

There is room for the messy, the uncertain, the vulnerable, the soft.

Whether you’re looking for in-person therapy in San Francisco, social anxiety treatment, therapy for men, or simply a space to be real without the pressure to impress — you’re welcome here. Truly.

Click here to set up a free consultation and learn more.

You were never meant to be perfect.
You were meant to be whole.

Some of the insights in this article are informed, and reinforced, by Jessica Steadman’s 2021 doctoral thesis, “The ‘Perfect’ Gay Man: An Exploration of Perfectionism with Gay Men in New Zealand,” which explores the lived experiences of perfectionism among gay men. Her research offered language and structure for ideas many of us have carried and lived for a long time.