When I started at Hartnell College in 2011, I made a conscience decision to be open and out about the fact I am a gay man. My colleagues were okay with it. My administrators were okay with it. Most importantly, the students were okay with it.
I was soon asked to be the faculty sponsor for the Pride Club on campus. Fellow faculty members began asking me to classes for various lectures on gay culture. Jason and I began speaking with the Rainbow Speakers: a regional group dedicated to educating the broader community about LGBTQ issues.
Being new to campus, I immediately started trying to find the other gay men on campus. In my naivete, I pictured how great it would be to have gay colleagues as an additional sounding board and support.
One of the first I noticed was an older faculty member I will call "Joe." It was obvious to me Joe was gay. A couple of colleagues even asked me in passing if I had "met" or "talked to Joe." It was clear to me, as it was obviously clear to the campus, that Joe was a gay man.
In my typical zest (followed by revelations I am over-eager sometimes), I approached Joe, introduced myself, and asked him if he would be willing to talk to the Pride Club. I told him I want to get a mix of generations on a panel so students could understand some of the history and social changes the gay community has endured.
He became notably uncomfortable, changing the subject. I though it was odd. Later that day, walking across campus, we crossed paths. He stopped, and informed me that he was not "out" on campus and he would appreciate it if I didn't draw attention to him.
It took me off-guard. I was dumbfounded. Never mind the fact that colleagues were fully aware he was a gay man, but he also had some stereotypical traits that were like a neon sign above his head. He sachets like he is walking a perpetual runway, and when he talks, any doubts are quickly removed.
Not sure what to say, I said, "Sure. No problem." With that, he walked away.
In 2 1/2 years, he has barely spoken to me since. His office is located by one of the administrator's I visit frequently, and I attempt to say hello and ask how he is doing. It is regularly met with as little interaction as possible.
I have been introduced to the reality that no matter how much society changes, or how accepting communities or the workplace becomes, some of the older generation of gay men has had to protect themselves for so long they simply keep their status quo of dealing with the world.
Another older gay man that I admire deeply, who has been with his partner for years, is out and active in the community and a notable activist of sorts, but in 20+ years has never come out to his kids and family.
Again, it's not like they don't know. For both of these men, I vacillate between empathy and frustration. For whatever reason, they do not want to admit to all stakeholders in their lives they are gay men. On the one hand, I rationalize it is because of fear, or consequences of trying before, or not wanting to upset the balance each has found. On the other, the brazen part of me is irritated that these men, in their own realms, could help extend, that much further, the acceptance of gay men in the world and they are choosing not to be transparent.
I wonder if any of my peers that have been out for some time, those approaching or in their 40s, feel the pressure to lead multiple existences?
As someone who led half a life being two different people, my honest hope is that the answer would be "no." Society and individual viewpoints of homosexuality are changing quickly, but for some, I have realized it just may never be enough to live life vulnerable.
