But as I have re-engaged with the story of Ocean’s alleged coming out, it occurs to me that he did not really come out as gay on his Tumblr page. Certainly, Ocean asserting that his first love was a man does not conform to hegemonic notions of masculinity, particularly black masculinity, but by his admission that he had once loved a man, he is thus culturally ascribed the moniker “gay,” even though he has not used that word (to my knowledge) to describe himself. Perhaps the prevailing logic here is, as Anthony J. Lemelle, Jr., asserts in his book Black Masculinity and Sexual Politics, “…Many hold the view that any homosexual act at any time in life means the person is homosexual, a status from which they could never fully recover” (136). In some sense, this is a sexualized turn on the one-drop rule.

Ocean’s failure to use the word “gay” can be understood within the notion that some black gay men embrace calling themselves “same gender loving” rather than gay to escape the racism they perceive within white gay communities. And it cannot go without saying that Ocean has not (to my knowledge) “defended” himself against the charge that he is gay. But, by not using the word “gay,” he could also be trying to have a nuanced conversation about sexuality as fluid, rather than fixed.

What becomes problematic is that hegemonic understandings of masculinity disallow men to select “both” when asked one’s sexuality particularly within mass mediated notions of black masculinity wherein the discourse of HIV/AIDS is inextricably linked to black men having sex with other men on the “down low.” In the popular imagination, the “down low” is socially constructed as black men sneaking around and having sex with men behind their girlfriend’s and wife’s backs. The “down low,” and bisexuality by extension, becomes the way in which we develop a cultural understanding of the seemingly rampant spread of HIV/AIDS among black women. Because our culture still understands HIV/AIDS as a “gay disease,” the “down low brother” becomes Enemy No. 1.

But despite cultural antagonism, Ocean attempts to be sexually both. On his CD Channel ORANGE, which debuted at No. 2 on the Billboard chart, selling 131,000 copies, he lyrically vacillates between imagined male and female lovers. I allow that this bisexuality could be rooted in the notion that men, particularly those within the masculinist musical forms of rock, hip hop, and rap, must assert aggressive heterosexuality. Thus, Ocean may have been working mostly within the hegemonic confines of these musical forms. On the other hand, we are culturally uncomfortable allowing Ocean to, as he does in his song “Monks,” speak about an:

African girl [who] speaks in English accent likes to fuck boys in bands
likes to watch westerns
& ride me without the hands

while one track later, the lyrics for “Bad Religion” find Ocean lamenting “I could never make him love me.”

Perhaps the connection between Ocean and gayness can be understood because his network television debut on Late Night with Jimmy Fallon found the singer performing “Bad Religion,” an ode to homosexual unrequited love. It is my contention here that we are culturally uncomfortable with male bisexuality. Certainly, homosexuality is “bad” because it deviates from the culturally constructed sexual norm, but bisexuality is more problematic because of the sense that it remains unfixed.

But if his alleged coming out never mentions the word “gay” or “homosexual” and his music expresses desire for both same and opposite sex partners, how do we culturally make the leap there? We can make the leap because men, particularly black men in the popular culture imagination, are always already heterosexual. The only place for a man to go once deviating from heterosexuality is homosexuality. Unlike Katy Perry who can kiss a girl and like it (and tell her imagined opposite sex betrothed about it in order to titillate him), if Ocean kisses a boy (or desires to do so), he cannot fit within the hegemonic notions of heterosexuality–despite his attempts to lyrically straddle the sexuality fence.

Anderson in a 2008 issue of The Advocate I also contributed to!

Anderson Cooper’s “outing” this week beautifully illustrates something I have been writing about for a while: the imperative of coming out. The paradox of homosexuality is and has been that one must at once not be gay while at the same time publicly (confessing/admitting/declaring) that (s)he is. But what does that mean, exactly? If the presumption is that we are straight until we say otherwise, then why are the most common reactions to Anderson’s outing, “We already knew!” or “It’s about time!” Hollywood legend might describe the alleged homosexuality of figures like Agnes Moorehead or James Dean as an “open secret”–something about which to argue at pretentious dinner parties. But I bracket “outing” with quotations marks because if everybody already knew Anderson was gay, why was he constantly hounded to declare it? And why aren’t people satisfied with his declaration?

I’ll admit some guilt here; as an Oprah scholar, I’ve long thought Anderson’s semi-successful talk show suffered by his Donahue-esque journalistic fourth wall, something Oprah deflated by making herself always already one of her own guests. I draw this parallel because soon after his “outing,” Star Jones quite ickily suggested on The Today Show that Anderson outed himself to boost his ratings just like when Oprah admitted she used crack, got pregnant as a teenager, and considered suicide.

“I’m a little bit of a cynic; you know I’ve been in daytime television a long time…. There are times that you generate information for ratings.” Shame on you, Star Jones.

But why didn’t Anderson come out on his talk show, instead choosing to write a letter to Daily Beast? Will that letter be good enough, or will he be expected now to discuss it on television? And, indeed, can he discuss it without the kind of appalling accusations constantly volleyed in the news? That afternoon, Anderson, his syndicated talk show, was a rerun (it’s on hiatus) and he was absent from his late night news program, Anderson 360. If he came out to help his ratings, he sure has bad timing.

Our media culture often portrays coming out as this great moment of personal achievement–a bourgeoisie notion of psychological wholeness or self-actualization after which (and only after which) we can become our true, complete selves. This trope is then used to justify our demand that celebrities (and by extension our culture of celebrity mimics) come out of the closet “for their own good.” Just look at Ellen DeGeneres, people (like Oprah) often say, ignoring the six or so years after her outing that she was out of work and out of money. We can throw all kinds of Foucault at this: although he never specifically addressed coming out as we understand it today, confession for Foucault functions not only as a mechanism of articulating but also making truth as well as establishing one’s own credibility and authenticity. In other words, the lie we tell ourselves now is that we come out for ourselves, when in reality, we’re mostly supplying the demand.

Anderson's sensible closet (photo parody).

The coming out imperative comes from an old association between gayness and deception, dating back at least as far as McCarthy and the 1950s (the Lavender Scare) when homosexuals were indicted as deceptive individuals prone to blackmail. After gay activists in the ’60s and ’70s made the coming out process (as a political tool to combat invisibility) relatively commonplace, talk shows began quietly suggesting openness which ultimately became a demand when AIDS and HIV made homosexuality a “dangerous deception” for unsuspecting heterosexuals (see Gamson, Freaks Talk Back). We might say we’re coming out to our friends and family just for ourselves, but if that were the case, I might ask why the repeating line “they deserved to know the truth” is such a staple in coming out stories.

In her remarkably articulate response to Anderson’s outing, “fruit fly” Kathy Griffin deftly discusses the continuing dangers of outness: “[D]espite the very real, the very necessary, and the very life-changing progress we have made in this country … America–the world–is not fully represented by Chelsea in New York City … [it] is, in larger part, small towns like … Wichita, Kan., where I was [asked], ‘Kathy, how do you deal with so many goddamned fags?'” Foucault writes that our society believes confession “exonerates, redeems, and purifies … unburdens [us] of [our] wrongs, liberates [us], and promises [us] salvation.” But none of those attributes are particularly true of many coming out narratives in certain areas of the country (or the world) where outness can and does lead to greater isolation, bullying, suicide, or homicide.

In his letter, Anderson writes: “It’s become clear to me that by remaining silent on certain aspects of my personal life for so long, I have given some the mistaken impression that I am trying to hide something — something that makes me uncomfortable, ashamed, or even afraid. This is distressing because it is simply not true…. The fact is, I’m gay, always have been, always will be, and I couldn’t be any more happy, comfortable with myself, and proud.”

Anderson is an astute television personality–he could have exploited his outing for ratings, and who knows, maybe he will discuss it openly when his show re-premieres in Nate Berkus’ former studio this fall. But instead of folding to and perpetuating the cultural myth that public confession psychologically liberates us, Anderson decided to address his sexuality in a well-crafted letter that demonstrates a new, old reason for coming out: to break down invisibility. I applaud him for it.

As a culture we must be more sensitive of our demands and our expectations (of both our celebrities as well as our friends), for the realities of queer individuals all across the world are different–and just because someone isn’t out to you or your family, doesn’t mean they are living their life in a closet.

Arguing that he came out in part for his children, Martin described himself as a “fortunate homosexual man,” refusing to indulge in the drama or theatrics that we have gotten accustomed to when it comes to celebrity coming out announcements.  Martin’s coming out narrative, while merely a blip on most gossip and news sites, raises some interesting issues regarding contemporary gay visibility.  On the one hand, in a post-Will and Grace, Queer as Folk, and Ellen world where pop stars such as Elton John and George Michael have been out for years, Martin’s announcement hardly raises any eyebrows.

On the other hand, Martin’s coming out as a Puerto Rican gay man and as a major Latino star is a big deal. Jarrett Barrios, the president of the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation, writes, “Gay is no longer an abstract idea, or worse, a stereotype. Now, it’s the kid from Menudo you’ve known since you were a teenager.”  Billboard’s M. Ty Comer writes,“Earlier this month, Univision host Don Francisco asked another Latin artist, Eduardo Antonio, to address rumors about his sexuality. The singer responded, ‘When Ricky Martin, a man whom I admire very much, says whether he’s gay or not, that’s when I will tell you.’” Reacting to the potential implications of Martin’s decision, Michael Roston states, “I’m hoping that forces of fear who attempt to divide communities of color along the lines of those who support and those who oppose gay rights will find less and less traction for their regressive messages.”  Seen in this light, Martin’s move is a small step towards ensuring greater queer visibility for gay men and women of color.

Flashing back to all the speculation about Martin’s sexuality was a big deal, however, I find myself wondering why so many of us were so convinced that Martin was gay.   Why is the claim of privacy automatically interpreted as a sign of gayness?  Why do we continue to search for signs of gayness as if they were given, static, or immutable?  If Fred Astaire was alive today, would we all assume that he was gay because he could dance?  Or, would we (and by we I mean both gay men today and society at large) be enlightened enough to realize that a man who can two-step doesn’t necessarily have a closet he needs to step out of?