LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Gay 'n Gray |
by John Siegfried |
Come Out, Come Out (Whoever You Are)
Are secrets always bad, or can they be helpful? That was the question of a mid-fifties member of a SAGE Book Club meeting I recently attended. SAGE in this case isn't the Webster definition of wise, discerning, judicious, etc., but is Senior Action in a Gay Environment, a gay/gray group with chapters nation-wide. The book under discussion was David Leavitt's The Lost Language of Cranes, a 1986 gay bestseller, which later had TV notoriety. The jacket blurb proclaims, "This is a novel about what we missor choose not to seejust beneath the surface of our lives." The protagonists of the novel are Rose, the copy editor mother, her husband Owen, and gay son Phillip, each with secrets that have the potential to destroy their family. Its Phillip's coming out to his parents that generates both destruction and growth. To his credit, the author resists the temptation to tie the threads of these fragmented lives into a neat bundle for a "happily ever after" conclusion, and, a ten year follow-up to trace the family members' progress, or lack thereof, would make a great sequel. It could be More Lost Language of Cranes or Lost Language of More Cranes or, Lost Cranes Find New Language. There are lots of possibilities. In explaining the reason for his question about the impact of secrets, our mid-fifties member revealed that he's never come out to his parents, or to anyone. His rationalization for his behavior is that, "My coming out would destroy my parents. They couldn't deal with it." Usually, the process of coming out is a priority of younger gays and lesbians, not of the gay and gray set. It hasn't been a concern of mine for a long time and while most members of the book club had been there, done that, there was one other sixty-plus attendee who shared this self-created dilemma. In my experience, coming out is essential for growth in the lives of gays and lesbians, as well as in the lives of our family members and friends. I resisted, however, the temptation to mount my soapbox at the SAGE meeting. Instead, I voted with the cadre who said coming out is a very personal decision which individuals handle differently in terms of who, when, where and how. For me, the hardest person to come out to was myself, and I was mid-thirties before I admitted that prayer, marriage, psychotherapy, workaholism and everything else I'd tried, wasn't going to change who I wasand that what I did with my prick wasn't going to change world history. This, of course, was long before coming out day became a collegiate event and before HRC sponsored coming out as a national phenomenon. Coming Out on the internet is listed under Awareness Celebrations along with National Condom Day, Father Daughter Take a Walk Day, Hug Holiday, and Genital Integrity Awareness Weeka movement attempting to build awareness of the evils of circumcision. I'd not touch that one with a ten-foot pole, even if I had one. But then again, size doesn't matter, does it? Perhaps what we need is a Calendar Change Awareness Week to stimulate interest in changing the calendar so that all the celebrations and awarenesses, which now exceed the allotted 365 days and 52 weeks in our year, can be accommodated. I did share with the group, as an illustration of the positive impact of coming out, an experience that Howard, my partner and I had while living in Washington. Howard's friend and mentor, John P, came to D.C. to visit Howard, and to stay overnight with us, shortly after we moved together to a Friendship Heights condo. Howard had never acknowledged to John P that he was gay. In picking up John P at Union Station Howard began to explain his living arrangement and that I, his partner John, was more than a friend who was sharing expenses. Howard was dumbfounded when John P interrupted and said, Oh I knowyou're gay and John's your partner. John P had figured out Howard's sexual orientation some thirteen years earlier, but, as he pointed out while driving to Friendship Heights, you never said anything, so I figured you didn't want to talk about it. It wasn't until Howard initiated the subject that John P had the freedom to acknowledge what he already knew. That moment of honesty opened and enlarged our relationship with John P and his wife Ann in ways none of us could have anticipated. They visit us, separately and together, in Rehoboth, and in Fort Lauderdale, and a special part of our annual Thanksgiving visit to NYC is lunch with John and Ann. Ironically, we've become their resident gurus on gay and lesbian issues as they, and some of their friends, have found we are everywhereeven in their own families. The point is that until Howard was willing to come out to his friend and give permission to talk about the sexual orientation issue, further growth in their relationship was stymied. It's a common parental refrain when kids come out to parents that the parents already knew, or suspected, where their child was on the sexual orientation scale. And while, like Rose in The Lost Language of Cranes, some parents prefer not to know the truth, it's also true that silence is anything but golden. It's stultifying, cancerous, and ultimately destructive. It's also true that when I say I can't share this great secret with another because it will destroy them, what I'm really concerned about is that the sharing may destroy me. I propose that we add to the list of awareness celebrations a National Truth Day, a day in which we all share our secrets with those who are nearest and dearest. We might be surprised to find that in many families, sexual orientation isn't much of a secret at all and certainly not at the top of the list. John Siegfried, a retired association executive, resides in Rehoboth Beach and Ft. Lauderdale. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 11, No. 6, June 1, 2001 |