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Barney Frank: My Life as a Gay Congressman
Politico:n 1986, I was as ready to leave the closet as I would ever be—but how would I do so? Though I was a third term Democratic congressman from Massachusetts, I had lived too long with the burden of “the gay thing” to treat coming out as a political matter alone. For many years, I was ashamed of myself for hiding my membership in a universally despised group. I’d been afraid of exposure, and angry at myself for my self-denial. I’d felt shame as I watched younger gay men and lesbians confront the bigots openly with a courage that I lacked. After all those years, lying to people was much easier emotionally than finally admitting my lie.
The circumstances of my disclosure were complicated by another factor: I talk too much. Specifically, I shared my decision with more friends and allies than was prudent, and word was starting to get around. This led to an unusual interaction with several members of the media. They remained committed to the “rule” that prominent people should not be outed unless they had been enmeshed in a gay-related scandal, but they were understandably eager to break the story. So various journalists asked me from time to time if they could do so. I consistently said no—I didn’t deny I was gay but invoked their own nondisclosure principle.
This arrangement was tested in mid-1986 when a book was published that implicitly, but unmistakably, told the truth about me. The author was Robert Bauman, who’d been a stridently right-wing Republican member of the House in the 1970s. His primary concern was outlawing abortion, but he had followed the conservative movement’s anti-gay line as well. In 1980, before I arrived in the House, he was charged with soliciting sex from an underage male prostitute. His denial of his homosexuality was universally—and accurately—disbelieved, and he was defeated for reelection that year.
...snip...
I was scared. I was ready to come out, but not at his hands, not in that way, and not at that time. This led to two important conversations in the early summer of 1986. The first was with Speaker Tip O’Neill, my fellow Democratic congressman from Massachusetts. As a great admirer of his leadership, I felt obligated to let him know that following the 1983 revelation of Rep. Gerry Studds’ relationship with a male House page, for which Studds was censured by the House, there might be another sex-related controversy in our party that he’d have to handle.
The circumstances of my disclosure were complicated by another factor: I talk too much. Specifically, I shared my decision with more friends and allies than was prudent, and word was starting to get around. This led to an unusual interaction with several members of the media. They remained committed to the “rule” that prominent people should not be outed unless they had been enmeshed in a gay-related scandal, but they were understandably eager to break the story. So various journalists asked me from time to time if they could do so. I consistently said no—I didn’t deny I was gay but invoked their own nondisclosure principle.
This arrangement was tested in mid-1986 when a book was published that implicitly, but unmistakably, told the truth about me. The author was Robert Bauman, who’d been a stridently right-wing Republican member of the House in the 1970s. His primary concern was outlawing abortion, but he had followed the conservative movement’s anti-gay line as well. In 1980, before I arrived in the House, he was charged with soliciting sex from an underage male prostitute. His denial of his homosexuality was universally—and accurately—disbelieved, and he was defeated for reelection that year.
...snip...
I was scared. I was ready to come out, but not at his hands, not in that way, and not at that time. This led to two important conversations in the early summer of 1986. The first was with Speaker Tip O’Neill, my fellow Democratic congressman from Massachusetts. As a great admirer of his leadership, I felt obligated to let him know that following the 1983 revelation of Rep. Gerry Studds’ relationship with a male House page, for which Studds was censured by the House, there might be another sex-related controversy in our party that he’d have to handle.
