A gay figure skater? That's lunacy!

[by Amy Bass]

Coming out in America simply isn't as exciting as it used to be.  While earlier in the 20 th century, as George Chauncey outlined in his fabulous book Gay New York , fairies and queens freely dominated a thriving subculture in Manhattan, the Stonewall Rebellion in 1969 closed the closet door on any kind of idea that it was safe to be “out,” even in Greenwich Village.

The most recent revolution began with “The Puppy Episode” of Ellen , in which both Ellen DeGeneres and her eponymous character came out of the closet (to none other than Oprah, who played her therapist on the show).  Her sitcom, although soon-to-be-cancelled, garnered its largest audience, and Ellen famously hit the cover of Time with the now oft-repeated “Yep, I'm gay.”

Almost a decade later, Lance Bass's outing – somewhat viciously forced by online gossiper Perez Hilton – on the cover of People seemed, well, somewhat of a disappointment.  Perhaps this is because Lance Bass is simply that much lamer of a celebrity than Ellen, who now is riding the crest of her career with her Emmy-award-winning talk show.

But perhaps it is because America – despite its occasional furor over the ridiculous issue of gay marriage (seriously, what are bible-thumping straight people so damn scared of? does God not love them as much as they claim?) – simply doesn't care.  On the set of Gray's Anatomy , actor Isaiah Washington launches “faggot” in the midst of a fight with co-star Patrick Dempsey, and within hours ensemble member T.R. Knight comes out, wisely advising gossip-mongers that his sexual orientation should not be “the most interesting part” of him.  A week later, Neil Patrick Harris, whom everyone in my New York neighborhood, at least, knew to be gay, follows suit, describing himself as “a content gay man” to People , which is now apparently the preferred organ – no pun intended – of the gay community.

And we all know Rosie is gay, right?  Even Elisabeth Hasselback got that memo? It seems like lately, announcing that you're gay is sort of like turning 21 – it's not as much fun to sneak a drink when it is completely legal to do so.

Except in sports.  Sports may, indeed, be the last realm of American culture where being gay is still taboo, still hidden, still something to whisper about. Johnny Weir certainly found that out last winter when he returned from the Winter Games in Torino, only to find heated backlash posted to his website regarding both his Olympic performance, or lack thereof, on the ice and his refusal to answer questions about his sexuality.  Have you seen Weir skate?  He is drag on ice, but the skating world continually codifies its descriptions of him in terms of his flamboyance, his artistry, his eccentricity, his extravagance.  The Chicago Tribune even turned to openly gay former national champion Rudy Galindo to find out if Weir was gay.  “He's drinking tea with his pinkie finger in the air, and he's so over the top and feminine, why is everybody asking him about his ‘style' and not just ask him if he's gay?” Galindo told the Tribune .  “It's the funniest thing to watch.”

Seriously, if a guy can't be gay in figure skating, where can he go?

Women have had a far less difficult time in sports, largely because women are quite often assumed to be lesbian if they achieve elite athletic status, something that has historically been attributed to masculine ability and identity.  The problem, then, has to do with the sports world writ large:  athletic prowess is still deemed to be a guy's thing, meaning that female athletes are okay to be gay because they are actually filling a stereotypically male-prescribed role when they publicly state that they have sex with women.  Of course they do – they are practically heterosexuals, these women, perfecting strength, stamina, agility, and power.  It's a masculine endeavor to be an athlete, so women in the sports world continually endure the label of lesbian.  Just don't tell Portia de Rossi, or any of the other so-called lipstick lesbians, who couldn't fulfill traditionally outlined frameworks of femininity with their red carpet couture any more if they tried.

But for men?  Don't ask, don't tell, because if being good at sports is a guy thing, then confessing a sexual preference for men means, well, that you aren't one.

So while Hollywood continues to slide, albeit gradually, into moods of nonchalance over the coming out of its community, and states like Massachusetts continue to delay votes on gay marriage and civil unions because the issue simply doesn't seem all that threatening anymore, sports remain a bastion of the closet. 

And thus the whispers about the various hockey players, and shortstops and cagers and spikers and – yes – men dressed like swans who wear skates, will continue, ensuring that the stigma of homosexuality, and the horrors of homophobia, have a place to both thrive and flourish.

November 19, 2006