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The
Closet Revisited
by Michele Forsten
Several years ago, I worked with someone who had barricaded
himself inside the closet. Given who Julio was, I
did not expect him to react like I did when co-workers
made "fag" and "dyke" jokes and
assert that they weren’t funny. I admit I was
surprised, however, the first time I witnessed him
heartily laughing along like a good ’ole homophobe.
The only personal thing Julio talked about at great
length were the operas he went to see. Reluctantly,
when a colleague pressed, Julio said he lived with
a "roommate," sometimes referred to as a
"friend." In the seven-plus years I worked
with this guy, he never once mentioned this roommate/friend’s
name. One day Julio drove to work in a newer car.
When asked about it, he said it belonged to his roommate,
who was no longer able to drive. A few months later,
he went to his roommate’s funeral. Not long after
that, Karposi’s carcoma lesions began appearing
on Julio’s face. He got thinner and thinner.
In strict confidence, he eventually told his supervisor
he had AIDs. He stopped coming to work and died a
couple of months later.
I was reminded of Julio in late July when I attended
a panel discussion in New York City about gays in
professional sports sponsored by the National Lesbian
& Gay Journalists Association. One of the speakers
was OUT Editor-in Chief Brendan Lemon, who created
quite a stir this past spring when he wrote in a "Letter
from the Editor" column in his magazine that
for the past 1-1/2 years he had been dating a major
league baseball player from an East Coast team. That
night, in a room full of gays and lesbians, Lemon
repeatedly referred to this person as his "friend."
People like me, who hadn’t read his editorial
beforehand were confused. Someone in the audience
raised his hand and asked, "Is he just a ‘friend’
or are you going out with him?" Lemon’s
reply was to the effect that being a good friend was
the most important trait he looked for in a boyfriend
and he used "friend" and "boyfriend"
interchangeably.
Certainly friendship is basic to a healthy intimate
relationship. But I wouldn’t refer to my partner
as a "friend" unless I was being closeted
about my personal life. And I definitely wouldn’t
speak that way in front of an audience of gays and
lesbians. It seemed as if Lemon’s boyfriend’s
closeted behavior might be influencing Lemon’s
choice of words.
That’s not all I found puzzling about Lemon’s
presentation. His coyness that was a real turnoff.
Trying to place Lemon’s revelation in a larger
context, audience members asked him if his boyfriend
was out to any of his teammates and (a) if there were
any other gay players currently in the majors that
this player knew and (b) if they would be supportive
if he came out. In both cases, Lemon demurred giving
an answer other than "I really can’t say."
When pressed as to why, he responded that he didn’t
feel comfortable answering those questions because
he didn’t have his boyfriend’s okay. The
two of them hadn’t discussed giving out that
information.
Come on. If the concern is protecting this ballplayer’s
identity, how would answering those questions lead
anyone to figure out who he is? I felt like I was
being teased, maybe to buy future issues of OUT magazine
to see if Lemon drops clues to his boyfriend’s
identity. I do find it hard to believe that he hasn’t
clarified with his boyfriend what additional information,
if any, he can discuss. Perhaps Lemon should suspend
speaking on panel discussions about gays in professional
sports until he has something to add to what he already
said in his editorial.
In that column, Lemon stated that one of the reasons
he wrote it was to help his boyfriend test the waters
to see if he had enough support to come out and so
Lemon himself no longer had to lie to his friends
about what he was doing. His column brought to public
attention that there are gays in that bastion of heterosexuality,
major league baseball. It was a courageous thing to
do and a step forward.
However, not answering general questions that would
help put his boyfriend’s conflict into perspective
is a step back. Not as far back as laughing at homophobic
jokes, but back nonetheless. I expect more from someone
who is so publicly gay—an editor-in-chief of
a national queer publication—and what I received
at that panel discussion was innuendo, a painful reminder
of how far we still have to go to be truly out of
the closet. The September 11 tragedy showed us how
short life can be. Too short to play these kind of
games.
© Michele Forsten
2001
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