"Another great reason for being out of the closet" Passing Hate Crime legislation and lobbying for a nondiscrimination ordinance are one thing. But when we’re faced with hatred and homophobia up close and personal, it can often be hard to know what to do or say. A courageous reader writes in about an encounter he had in Clear Lake, and how he chose to respond. by Jim Lee

I’m a 45-year-old professional who lives and works in the Clear Lake area of Houston. While having dinner alone on July 31, I was reading a recent issue of Newsweek (August 6, 2001) while minding my business and enjoying a very good meal.

Two middle-aged males joined me at the bar, each arriving a short time after the other. They sat next to me and I knew, by overhearing their conversation, that they were friends. Both were quite courteous and introduced themselves while we conversed about the Clear Lake economy and the status of NASA. Innocuous conversation anyone would expect from newfound acquaintances at an upscale restaurant.

While being in and out of a conversation they occasionally included me in, I read my magazine article, which happened to be entitled "How a Stand Against Gays Is Dividing an American Institution: The Battle for the Soul of the Boy Scouts."

I’m an out and proud gay man, and while I don’t carry my gayness via a sandwich board to announce to the world, I’m gay and not the least bit ashamed of it. My kids know it, my ex-wife knows it, my grandson knows it, and all of my employees and clients (who have ever inquired) know it. I went through the coming-out process over 15 years ago.

As the two obviously educated and articulate men talked about various topics, I quietly and intently read my article and ate my dinner. At a pause in their conversation, one of the men asked me if it was Newsweek I was reading. I replied, "Yeah, it’s one of my favorite magazines." As the conversation between the two friends ebbed, one of the men asked about the article I was reading. I simply stated that it was about the issue of gays in the Boy Scouts.

The older man then immediately, with an exasperated expression, asked his friend what he thought about the issue. His friend replied that we should keep the queers out of the Boy Scouts, no matter the cost. The older man readily agreed and added, "Fags are trying to permeate every part of society, and they’re doing it to have access to young boys and teenagers. That’s why they want in the military."

I placed my fork on the counter and stared in incredulity at the two men. Partly in disbelief at what I was hearing, and partly because I had suddenly lost my appetite.

The men were exchanging glances with me, I guess in part to get me to chime in, and in part to ascertain whether I concurred with them.

I was in one sense enraged, in another sense heartbroken.

Enraged because I couldn’t believe that in my own little upscale Clear Lake community that I love so well, I was hearing such ignorance and hatred.

Heartbroken because it made me feel that all my efforts of coming out, of living a decent life, of attending gay pride events and being a Human Rights Campaign member (not to mention being a proud volunteer with the AIDS Foundation Houston) were somehow diminished by the hateful and ignorant words of these two men.

As I stared, somewhat blankly, at the two men, they continued. The older man said, "Maybe they should allow gays to join the Boy Scouts; at least then they could have someone to burn and bury during their camping trips."

Now I was getting major pissed. But I learned a long time ago that allowing rage to take over never solves anything and is hardly a way of making a valid point.

Thankfully, although not without his own prejudice, the younger of the two said, "I wouldn’t go that far, but the queers should keep to themselves."

The older man looked at me and my, by now, visible astonishment and said, "I hope I’m not stepping on any toes here."

By this point, I had totally lost my appetite. I knew I needed to step in and say something profound, in defense of myself and all gay people. I immediately ordered my check (from a gay waiter friend) and steamed and stewed about how to reply. I received my check in less than a minute, paid the bill, and stood.

Both men were within 10 feet of me and began to give me courteous and typical adieus like, "Have a good day," and "Take care," when I faced both of them.

"You know, the time to worry about stepping on a person’s toes is before you do it," I said calmly but firmly. "As a proud gay man, responsible business owner, father and grandfather, AIDS volunteer, and a Clear Lake resident, I can’t believe I’m hearing such hatred and ignorance from my neighbors.

"You know, before you comment on an issue, you ought to educate yourself. Try becoming un-ignorant. I’ve always believed that those who criticize gays the most are people who are most uncomfortable with their own sexuality. You’ve done nothing but confirm that belief."

I finished my quiet rage by saying: "Why don’t you at least read the Newsweek article? You may actually learn something. You both know people who are gay; they work with you, wait on you in restaurants, are your friends and relatives, and you like them and respect them. You just don’t know they’re gay. You know someone else who’s gay, that’s me, Jim Lee."

As I left my two acquaintances with their dropped-jaw, shocked expressions, I felt a lot better. You know something else? The heartbroken feeling I had briefly experienced was gone. For at least I had stood my ground, and the experience had also reconfirmed my belief that anyone who can be out of the closet about his or her gayness should be. Because if I had been in the closet, I couldn’t imagine hearing such crap, feeling bad about myself, and not being able to respond.

I’m more convinced that good things can come from bad situations. At least there are maybe two less-ignorant middle-aged guys who now know a gay man who is proud of who he is. Next time maybe they’ll have better manners.