1982

1982 was an eventful year, with Ozzy Osbourne eating a bat live on stage, the Falkland War taking place and a new British Prince being born. In August, 1982. Robin Herman, who is currently assistant dean for research communications at HSPH, was then a metro reporter for The New York Times. She was assigned to cover a cluster of cases in New York City of a frightening new disease primarily afflicting homosexual men. When she wrote the word “AIDS” in her article, it was, in retrospect, a landmark moment: the first mention of Acquired Immune Deficiency Syndrome printed by the Times. Herman talks about reporting this important story — and why the Times editors chose to relegate it to the back pages of the Sunday paper.

September 24: CDC uses the term "AIDS" for the first time and releases the first case definition for AIDS.

December 10: Report of AIDS likely from blood transfusion.

December 17: Reports of AIDS hinting of perinatal transmission.

It was even called the “gay plague” for many years after.

I knew I was queer in 1982.

Queer is my identity. I don’t claim to be gay, but I do own the identify of being queer. To be queer takes strength in character through fear of the unknown. Claiming my queerness is the closest word I’ve found to describing how I feel inside. Queer is a strange word for me, as it was used in a derogatory term during my childhood to drive me into a closet for decades. Now, I claim this word as it defines my identity that has brought a sense of empowerment and inclusiveness.

To be queer requires compassion and empathy and clearly a strong sense of self-worth. Compassion for those who feel they must have an opinion about your lifestyle and empathy for those who choose not to understand you. I am queer and if others do not like that, they can go elsewhere.

So what does my identity have to do with 1982?

I met my wife in 1982. I never planned to marry, but I met a wonderful lady and decided I wanted to live my life with her. In 1982, I decided to bury my queerness so deep in the closet that it would never be allowed or needed to be expressed… ever. At least that was the plan. Well, that lasted 36 years anyway.

In 1982, when I met my wife, I likely would have explored the entirety of being queer. I’m not sure that I would have ever come out of the closet then, because to be queer was such a scary life of being so unaccepted by society.

I was reminded this week of the sentiment that people had of queer people when my mother-in-law commented on a bike I received for Christmas as a kid. I was telling a story of one of my favorite Christmas gifts being my first bike. It was a Huffy 3-speed called a Liquidator-3 and it was hot pink. My mother-in-law quickly chimed in, obviously before thinking, “your father must have hated you when you were young”. After my jaw dropped (my son’s did too), I replied, “I don’t think my Dad hated me; I loved that bike”. I didn’t say anything about the sissy bar it had as it would have fueled the homophobia that just spilled out into the room. Sadly, the conversation just went on with no other commentary. This is the kind of passive aggressive hatred of the LGBTQ community I have experienced my whole life and why I lived silently in shame trying diligently to be perceived otherwise.

So in 1982, fully entrenched in my closet, I changed my sentence to a life sentence. As Freddy Mercury sings in We Are The Champions, “I did my sentence, but committed no crime”.

I write about 1982 as a turning point in my life, because it’s likely that deciding to accept a life sentence of the closet actually saved my life. I certainly cannot know, but as I began, the AIDs was beginning to ramp up in 1982. Had I not decided to bury my true self, I likely would have been a statistic today.

Do I regret my decision? Definitely, no. I love my wife and family. Looking back, I can see where it was God moving me in a directionI didn’t imagine in order that I might be used for the kingdom later in life. Had the changes not taken place, as I mentioned, I likely wouldn’t be alive to fulfill my service to the kingdom.

Where does this lead me? I clearly have no idea, but I am certain that God is good and whatever happens next has will be good. I commuted myself from the life sentence of the closet and in loving myself, I now have the ability to love my neighbor.