THIRTY YEARS AGO, on Labor Day weekend, I was an unemployed newspaper columnist. My editors at The Houston Post had dismissed me for refusing to keep silent after they refused to allow me to reveal my own sexual orientation in a column about a brutal murder of Paul Broussard, a young gay banker.

The column had appeared in early July. It was a strong column condemning gay bashing, but because I was still in the closet, it came across as something written by a straight man, which I felt was dishonest. Even though I agreed to delete the coming-out portion from the column, I felt it was imperative that readers know the truth about me, so I spoke to the Houston Press and other outlets about the paper’s refusing to let me reveal my homosexuality.

My editors were not pleased. At all. And while they did not take any disciplinary action against me, they made it clear they preferred I no longer speak publicly about that had happened. When I continued to do so, they fired me. Unfortunately for them, they fired me right before the Labor Day weekend, a time when there’s little happening in the world, so the numerous demonstrations and protests in front of the Post building and in front of the editor’s home, and others, drew widespread attention, with every local TV news show leading with the story.

After about a week of these protests, which drew nationwide attention, the editors decided to compromise and offered me my job back. I took it, and I stayed with The Post until it died in 1995.

Before this, I had only come out to some of my friends and colleagues. I had never revealed my homosexuality to my family and suddenly I found myself realizing that I needed to do so because I did not want them to learn about it through the media. So, on the night of the Broussard column, I sat down at my desk and typed out a letter addressed to my five sisters and one brother (my parents had already died) and made six copies. The next day, I mailed the letters. I kept a copy, which I ran across the other day as I was rifling through my files.

Here’s what I said:

I know you will find it strange that I am writing and not calling, but I have something I want to tell you and I can’t do it over the phone.

What I have to say will not surprise you, I’m sure, because you are all intelligent people and I’m sure you have wondered about it, and maybe even talked about it among yourselves. 

Very simply: I am gay, and I have been for as long as I can remember. I wish I could have told everyone sooner, but you know that I am not the most courageous person in the world. Over the past seven years, I have told many of my friends and my coworkers, but I have not had the courage to tell you, and I apologize.

I’m telling you now because of what is happening in Houston (I am including a recent column I wrote about it) and because I have a feeling that very soon I will be forced to speak out, write about it, as a gay man. There is too much at stake here for me to remain in the closet any longer. 

I don’t know how much you know about homosexuality, but I think that you probably know by now that it is not something that we choose to be. I was born this way and I had no choice in the matter. This is the way God made me and I decided not long ago I was not going to hide it. I wish now I had been brave enough not to hide it either, but that’s all in the past. I can’t re-live that part of my life. 

I know you probably feel my personal sex life is none of your business, just as yours is none of mine. But this is more than sex. It is who I am, and as I have decided I am not going to hide it anymore, you should know about it, so you can be prepared when people ask you about it. What you tell them, it’s up to you but I hope you are never ashamed of me, or what I am, because I am not. 

When mom died, for a few minutes, my only thought was that the one person who loved me unconditionally was not around anymore. But after the funeral, I realized I was wrong, that there are still six people – you – who love me unconditionally. I am confident enough about that love to know you won’t reject me because of what I have told you. I have no doubt you will continue loving me as I love you. If you should find it difficult to deal with, or awkward to be around me, I will stay away from you until you tell me it’s OK. If you should surprise me and reject me, I will be hurt but I will understand and pray one day you will accept me. I’m not asking you to embrace what I am, I simply want you to accept me for what I am and continue loving me, as I will continue loving you.

Although I would find it very difficult to do so, I would be glad to talk to each of you about this, but if you’d rather not discuss this, I can understand that also.

You might be wondering why I just can’t keep this to myself and not cause all this trouble for you. Believe me, I would love nothing better, I think all you know me well enough to know that I was not raised to be the kind of person who would run away from something like this. If it causes problems for you, I’m truly sorry, but each of you will have to decide how to handle it. It doesn’t have to be painful, it doesn’t have to be embarrassing. You can simply say, yes, he is my brother and I love him and I am as proud of him as I have ever made. 

The one thing I do ask is that you do not feel sorry for me. I am living a good life. I am living a moral life. I am living the kind of life my mother taught me how to live. I enjoy my job, I enjoy my friends, and I hope I can continue to enjoy my family. I am enclosing a copy of a letter I just received from a mother who read my column. It tells what I’m trying to say a lot better, and I hope you read it carefully. 

I could go on and on but I think I’ve said what needed to be said. I love each of you very much and I look forward to seeing you again soon. 

On beso, 

P.S. If any of you would like copies of books on how to deal with homosexuality, I would be glad to get them for you.

I mailed the letter the next day. Almost all of my siblings responded in writing. I know I have their letters somewhere in my files, but I can’t find them now. I was not surprised to read their words of love and support. I had never doubted their love.