When I was in my 20s, I played Josephine in the operetta H.M.S. Pinafore in Cocoa Beach, Fla. The young guy who played my love interest was openly gay. I cringe to admit that in describing the experience, I often remarked that I enjoyed playing the role with him because, for once, I didn’t have to worry about my male lead hitting on me.
That comment no longer reflects the person I am. I am glad that in life we get do-overs.
I was self-centered, conceited and showing off. I didn’t mention if he was fun to play against, how he could act, how our voices blended. Was he nice off stage or conceited like some leads are? I never said. I spoke only of his sexuality and neglected to say that I’d enjoyed performing the lead with that talented man, who was a good person on and off stage.
A couple years after the show closed, I heard that he’d passed away from AIDS. That saddened me, but I was glad that he’d had the opportunity to perform that role in his young life before he went on to the next.
Later, after moving to Carrollton and starting a family, I played two roles in Quilts, a musical celebration in a Dallas church. I played two mothers who both had sons who died from AIDS. One claimed that it was all gossip and her son had died of pneumonia. The other wore a “Todd’s mother” T-shirt and lovingly sang a duet with her deceased son’s partner. The duality of the roles represented me. I supported sexual equality but didn’t dare speak of it with my husband, children or extended family, who didn’t want to talk about “the gays.”
I’m glad that I didn’t refuse the roles even though my Lutheran church didn’t support my beliefs. And I just didn’t talk about it much with my family back in Minnesota.
Over the years I’ve sung with many men and women. I’m concerned not with my fellow performers’ sexuality but with whether they can they hit the notes on the page. For three seasons I sang with the Dallas Opera Chorus, and it so happened that the majority of the chorus men were gay. During that time, I developed close bonds with everyone in the chorus. They supported me through a divorce and a custody battle and have remained good friends since.
In fact, a few years back, one of my soprano friends emailed me a notice for a section leader position. I drove from McKinney to Dallas. When I walked in the church doors, I was hit with strong déjà vu. Ah, yes, it was where I’d sung in that Quilts musical years ago.
After the tryout, I shyly spoke to the chorus director. “Um, your chorus sings beautifully, and I’d love to sing with you. But I’m actually straight; is that OK?”
Now I look back on that question and chuckle. Three years later, I still sing with the Cathedral of Hope choir. Nobody has ever said, “You aren’t accepted here because of your sexuality.”
I wish I could say the same for all churches.
This past week, a friend’s daughter, April Swartz-Larson, made headlines for being an openly gay homecoming queen at McKinney High School. I’ve had the pleasure to briefly know this young lady. She has a sweet personality. That she’s gay is just not the big deal about her. She’s a great person.
Today at church, I heard a pastor proclaim the big news that another denomination has accepted same-sex marriage.
I believe that the day will come soon when it’s not big news for a religious denomination to accept same-sex marriage or for a gay high school girl to be homecoming queen.
Laurie Lynn Lindemeier of Dallas is a theater/art/travel writer and a
soprano
soloist. She blogs at
LLLopera .wordpress.com.
