Gay At Work: I Need To Know Straight Up

Last week, I quit my job. Yep, I packed up what little personal belongings I had in my office space.  Left a note on my Director's desk that simply said, "Sayonara Suckas". Walked out the door and didn't let it hit my ass on the way out.
Yeah, I know it was cocky. But face it, I'm a white 45-year male who kicks major HR-butt who has a major ace-in-the-hole that will get me a job anywhere I want, of any caliber, all of my own choosing. 
Faithful readers know I hold the Gay Card.  This card guarantees me safe passage into any industry, any economy, at any level.  I'm teflon. I'm a ginsu knife. I'm a celebrity by right.
The cool thing about the Gay Card is it gives me great confidence (No, you can't read my poker face) and I'm kicking the dirt of this dusty old town off my shoes.
I wouldn't go so far as to say you should fear my power.  But I wouldn't stand in the way of this force of nature if I were you.
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"Paul, get up," my father says sternly.

I groan, my face in the pillow with no interest or intent to wake up.

"Paul, get up," my father repeats. When this command is met with no reaction, my father changes over to his sing-songy voice, "Mr. Light wants to come visit you."

I know what's coming now.  It's happened a hundred times before. My father is going to start to flip the bedroom light switch on & off, accentuating the obnoxiousness of this act with that silly voice.  And even though part of my brain knows there is no stopping this onslaught of morning toxicity, and that I should just concede and get up, there's the other part of my brain that lives in a fantasy world.  In that fantasy, my father gives up, I go back to sleep and I go to school when I feel like it.

But the year is 1977.  I'm 12 years old.  I have no control over anything and I have no choice but to get up, go to school and be an upstanding citizen. One of the other things I have no control over is the television set in my home.  My dad loves television.  And with only 5 channels to choose from and no remote, he can sit on the floor in front of that console and just keep flipping that dial for what seems like hours.  With only 5 channels to choose from, there is not much escape from frightening events coming across the airwaves.  And in 1977, it isn't the broadcasts about vulgar punk rockers, or stagflation, or the Son of Sam that frightens me as much as one woman and her reign of terror, Anita Bryant.

There is no escaping her image. She's pretty and has a charming smile. And she is earnestly afraid for the children of this nation. She is afraid that gays and lesbians are recruiting innocent children into an alternative lifestyle via molestation.  Gays and lesbians are hiding behind their respective careers to achieve their goals and should be prevented from working around children. Plus they certainly should not be permitted to adopt an orphaned child.
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What makes this even scarier in retrospect is that I had no idea why it scared me. I just remember it did.  It's one thing to be scared of predators.  It's another thing to be told you are one.

When I was 12, I was living in a zealously fundamentalist Christian small town in Indiana, where my family did not attend church.  So right away, I was a target for bullies. Add onto this that I was not thinking or talking about girls the way other boys talked about girls; I was small in stature and I was not athletic. It was the perfect recipe for sticking out like a sore thumb.

There's no solid evidence that I felt oppressed by Anita Bryant at the age of 12.  But her message still rings in my head thirty some years later. It does with others too. The residue she left behind is still sticking all over this country.  Not only is there still workplace inequity through legislation.  There is workplace inequity within ourselves and between ourselves.
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Case in point: This article from the Wall Street Journal speaks volumes to what I consider an issue of fear that has yet to dissipate.  The issue is being out at work. And it's not just the idea that you'll lose your job, but it's also the issue that as a business owner you may lose employees due solely to your sexual orientation.  The problem is they're not sure if that's the reason.  They are assuming so.  There assumptions are based on experience.  Those experiences are a part of my generation.  It's weird but our parents and other adults were told to be afraid of us.  They were told we were a horrible part of society.  Try being comfortable in your own skin under those circumstances.

This is why the first part of this story is a dream.  I did not quit my job and did not write any note.  But I think it would be cool if being gay was heralded in the workplace, that my KSA's were perceived as accentuated due to my sexual orientation, that not only would my services be sought out, but straight employees would give their right arm to work for or with gay employees.  Nice dream.

But here's the reality.  Next time around, when I'm looking for my next job, I will not be afraid. I'm not letting the doubts of my generation hold me back. Before the job offer is made, I'm putting the orientation issue out there.  I'm going to find out upfront if it's an issue.  I need to know now if it's going to be a problem later. I need to know straight-up.