Big
Love has a tagline on the cover, “Coming out of the closet is never
easy.” Although I’ve written many, many gay-themed stories, I don’t know if I’m
sure I’ve ever tackled coming out as directly as in this one.
You can read Big
Love (and I hope you will!) if you want to travel
the tears- and laughter-strewn path of the coming out process of my main
characters, but I wanted, in this post, to share a little bit about my own
coming out, some of which mirrors the process of my characters Dane and Truman
in the book.
Remember—knowing
you’re gay isn’t the same as accepting you’re gay. I might have known I was gay
when this picture was snapped, but I certainly gave it no credence.
That's me at about age seven at the party my
father’s workplace held for employees’ kids every Christmas. It would not be
the last time I would sit on a burly-bearded guy’s lap, but let’s keep this
sweet and simple. Even then I was fastidious about my appearance and like to
think that my bowtie, V-neck sweater, and Chukka boots would look good even
today. As a gay child, I knew even then that classics never go out of style.
I was pretty happy when that picture was taken, but with the
advent of adolescence, the bad stuff was in full swing. I was a very troubled
young man, at best called a sissy (or fag, queer, homo) and tormented verbally
by classmates and, at worst, physically bullied for sport (just like Truman in Big
Love). Like the song goes, I was always the last chosen when
choosing sides for basketball. I had no friends. I spent my time with my baby
sister, walking her around the neighborhood in her stroller. How I loved that
little girl! She was my salvation without even knowing it. Unfortunately, a
little boy pushing a stroller around back in the early 70s only added to the
abuse for my being “different.” Back then, I had no self-esteem and could only
cast my tormentors as right in their abuse—after all, deep inside I knew was
some kind of freak. This is when the self-loathing started and I retreated deep
into the closet, thinking and praying for deliverance from being “that way.”
I remained hidden and tormented until I went away to
college, to Miami University, where I could not only fulfill the dream of
sharpening my craft as a writer, but where I could cast off the shackles of
being derided as a sissy and someone only worthy of being punched as I stood in
line for lunch in the school cafeteria. Because I chose a school where almost
no one else in my class went (save for an overly bright girl, who had been
tormented as much as I), I could recast myself as one of the guys, a blessedly
straight boy…and I was able to fool most everyone. I wonder now if I was naïve
in thinking my dark secrets were as hidden as I believed.
University was where I met and fell in love—with a woman. We
were engaged; we got married. We had a wonderful sex life (when I could make
myself believe I wasn’t passing some sort of test or that I was pretending); we
had a child. Through all those years, I was deep, deep in the closet, wearing
the thickest of masks, so thick I could barely breathe. But I weathered the
storms of self-doubt, of recrimination, or terror, telling myself, throughout a
decade, that if I played the part long enough, I would become the character I
thought I should be (much as Dane does in Big
Love).
But that gay guy inside me would not rest until I paid him
heed. The harder I fought to be someone I wasn’t, the harder the gay part of me
fought back. It came to a point where I realized that no one in my life—not
family, not friends, not my wife, not my child—loved me for me. Because no one
knew who I was.
It became a matter of living a lie and watching my soul, my
very essence, shrivel up and die, or make a choice—a choice that, as time went
on, became more and more unavoidable. Finally, at age 30, I had to lay down the
shield and the sword and stop fighting.
With the help of a therapist, I stepped cautiously out of
the closet. I was so scared, I leapt at the first cute guy who smiled at me and
we were living together within a few months, causing, in part, a contentious
divorce and custody battle. At age 30, my face of gay was out of the closet,
but still yet unfulfilled.
See, I never had an adolescence, that experience most people go through when they try on different personas, play the field, experiment with life to see who they really are and what suits them.
My adolescence came way too late, in my mid 30s and early
40s. I plead the fifth on those years, but let’s just say there was a great
deal of experimentation and pushing the gay envelope. I tried everything (and
everyone) at least once.
My face of gay in my 40s was accepting, but unloved. I went
through many relationships, some as long as two years, others lasting only
minutes. Some of those affairs were conducted in only seconds, on a crowded
Chicago el train, spoken with the eloquence of the eyes.
It wasn’t until I had given up on love and accepted me for
me that I found true love. And that’s my face of gay today, with someone I am
now proud to call husband, legal in all 50 states.
Because at this point, being out and being gay is all about
one word: family.
BLURB
Teacher Dane Bernard is a gentle giant, loved by all at
Summitville High School. He has a beautiful wife, two kids, and an easy rapport
with staff and students alike. But Dane has a secret, one he expects to keep
hidden for the rest of his life—he’s gay.
But when he loses his wife, Dane finally confronts his
attraction to men. And a new teacher, Seth Wolcott, immediately catches his
eye. Seth himself is starting over, licking his wounds from a breakup. The last
thing Seth wants is another relationship—but when he spies Dane on his first
day at Summitville High, his attraction is immediate and electric.
As the two men enter into a dance of discovery and new love,
they’re called upon to come to the aid of bullied gay student Truman Reid.
Truman is out and proud, which not everyone at his small-town high school
approves of. As the two men work to help Truman ignore the bullies and love
himself without reservation, they all learn life-changing lessons about coming
out, coming to terms, acceptance, heartbreak, and falling in love.
BUY
This post originally appeared at Prism Book Alliance.
Rick thank you for sharing your story. I can't even begin to imagine how hard those years must have been. It is wonderful to see you so happy and in love now....
ReplyDeleteThank you for commenting--I appreciate the kind words.
ReplyDelete