Out and proud Chris
Back in June, I was invited to speak about my experiences as a gay man and a father as part of a company’s Pride and Ally celebration. I was incredibly honored that they asked me, especially since it was the first time they’d ever had a speaker as part of this event.
It was also very cool that a Fortune 500 company still values DEI initiatives.
The questions the moderator asked me ranged from what it was like for gay people in Utah some forty years ago to how fatherhood has changed me. He even asked me how being Greek American influenced my coming out process.
I tried my damndest to be transparent about my experiences while keeping it light and funny. Let’s be honest, nobody wants to take an hour out of their busy work schedule to listen to some guy complain about life.
Besides, I’ve been lucky to overwhelmingly have a pretty fabulous life. Not everyone is as fortunate as I’ve been to have colleagues, friends, and especially family who universally accept and support me. My hell, during the Midvale Harvest Days Parade, my very straight big brother loudly and enthusiastically booed the Chick-fil-A float!
So, sometimes I forget there are some people who don’t really get it.
During the audience Q&A, a guy I would guess was in his mid-60s, shared that his grandmother loved Liberace, the campy and very obviously gay pianist. Apparently, grandma never missed a single episode of his television variety show. And not once did she ever think about him being gay. He wasn’t Gay Liberace; he was just Liberace. Why then did I have to be Gay Chris? Why couldn’t I just be Chris?
I tried to politely explain the importance of being out. I reminded him that straight people weren’t fired from their jobs; they weren’t arrested simply for having a beer and dancing together; no one disowned their kid for being heterosexual.
What baffled me was that he had literally just heard me relay how my family faced various challenges and even discrimination because it’s headed by two dads. Did he miss when everyone laughed at the story of a colleague who didn’t believe I’m gay and demanded proof? (Apparently, matching my shoes to my shirt wasn’t enough. I think the photo of Kelly and me posing way too physically close to be confused for a couple of straight bros did the trick.)
Naturally, his grandmother didn’t think of her favorite entertainer as gay. It was a different time. If you wanted a career, especially in Hollywood, you needed to push the gay part of you so deep into the closet that it found Narnia.
I reminded him that his beloved Mamaw notwithstanding, everyone knew that Liberace, like Paul Lynde – Uncle Arthur on Bewitched and for years the center square on Hollywood Squares – was gay. But it was OK because they allowed themselves to be portrayed as sexless eunuchs, played for laughs, a wink, and a giggle.
Hopefully, he understood that too many queer folks took cop batons to the head for that shit to continue. And by the way, I’ve spent too many years fighting for equality and educating people about LGBTQ+ families to be reduced to a joke. No shade to Liberace, but my husband of 37 years, my amazing sons, and our family deserve more respect than he was willing to settle for.
As we were saying goodbye, the young man in charge of the event asked if I would consider returning next year. I, of course, agreed. But I won’t come just as Chris. I’ll come as out, proud and unashamed Gay Chris.
