Gaydar, that innate sixth sense we LGBTQ people are said to possess, allows us to recognize one of our own, however adroit or insistent their straight pretense. Take, for example, Lindsey Graham (R-S.C.). Instead of the hissingly bitter regime snake protesting too much, it’s easy to envision the senator entertaining, out and proud, in a very gay, smoky, old-school piano bar somewhere in Charleston, S.C.
Cocktail in hand, belting out his favorite Broadway tunes, he’d acquiesce to an admirer’s request to sing “Mame” yet again, accompanied this time, perhaps, by some improvised choreography. Between numbers, as his pianist flips through a fake book to find the next musical offering, Lindsey would regale the audience with bawdy tales of sailors in crackerjacks snatched from just outside the gates of the town’s naval base. Yes, life could be one grand gay cotillion, if only...
To paraphrase that charming old Neil Sedaka hit, “coming out is hard to do.” Still, as Mayor Pete Buttigieg discovered, it’s worth the liberation one feels the morning after. In a truly historic moment, the first out gay man to run for president of the United States told his inspirational coming-out story during the last Democratic debate. “I came back from the deployment and realized that you only get to live one life, and I was not interested in not knowing what it was like to be in love any longer, so I just came out,” Buttigieg said. Within his statement is a universal truth: It’s simply about accepting one’s worthiness of love in order to achieve one’s wholeness as a human being.
Taking the Plunge
Sadly, given the obstacles we face, the process is not that simple. Granted, it’s certainly easier today for a high-profile personality to come out than for, say, Lindsey (if he were gay) in his heyday as an up-and-coming politician, especially in the former Confederacy. Actually, under those circumstances, it would have been suicidal. But Buttigieg also mentioned the fear that his career would suffer were he to make a public acknowledgment of his sexual orientation. He came out anyway. The result was far from career-ending. He was reelected mayor of South Bend, Ind., married his partner and is now running for the highest political office of the land. Beyond all that, he is no doubt happier living as a whole person without fear.
For those who remain closeted, celebrity or otherwise, things are quite the opposite. I could tell many a story, especially of older LGBTQ folks whose worth and happiness have been compromised into a state of paranoia. Once, while out for a fish fry, an acquaintance, semi-closeted and dating a married, closeted man, shushed me in a panic at my mention of his partner’s name. Someone might be listening, he cautioned. From then on, I used an alias when speaking of the guy. Meanwhile, a friend of mine, married with adult children, is mired in depression bordering on despair. He’s comparatively lucky though. Others don’t survive the inner conflict.
Sometimes, like Pete Buttigieg (or another friend’s lesbian mother who, in a final fed-up-with-the-charade moment, rode off into the sunset on her motorcycle some years ago), one has to take the plunge. We’d all be better off for it.
