Date:         Sat, 27 Jul 91 15:46:01 PDT
From: STRICKLE%USCVM.BITNET@mitvma.mit.edu
Subject:      Labels

Those Gaynetters without access to the Washington Post or LA Times
might enjoy this recent article.  Moses explains to straight
audiences a problem we all have, but he more so.

_The Elusive Etiquette of Being a Gay Spouse_

Herb Moses, a financial analyst for the Federal Mortgage
Assn., lives with U.S. Rep. Barney Frank (D-Mass.).
Moses wrote this for the Washington Post.

     I am the only member of the congressional gay spouse caucus.
While this makes meetings a breeze, it presents its own set of
definitional and etiquette problems for which I have not yet found
a solution.
     Straight and gay friends know us as Barney and Herb, but
introductions to strangers require a fast read on the audience.
The accepted gay term is lover, but to me, that sounds like we are
always hopping in and out of bed.
     For two years of our four-year relationship, I was in business
school in New Hampshire and Barney was either in Washington or
Boston.  Now I work a lot, he works a lot and we both travel, so
that is certainly not an accurate description.  I also think that
conveys a lack of permanence and seriousness.  Equally, boyfriend
sounds too jaunty and too transient.
     There is significant other.  This sounds like a census form,
and there are several significant people in my life.  Washington's
gay newspaper has used partner-in-life, which sounds like Jim
Bakker sold me a lifetime share in Barney for $1000.  There is
companion, which sounds like one of us is either elderly or a dog.
     Most of the time I say friend.  But I try to say it with a
capital F.  Until we decide on a term and define it for the world,
no phrase will feel comfortable.  Gay men and lesbians need a term
that would do for us what Ms. did for women.
     Having started a new job several months ago, I have had to
wrestle with the proper response to the question "Are you married?"
     Possibilities: "No, I am gay." "Yes, I am gay." "No, I am not
married, but I am in a relationship."
     I have solved the problem this way: If gay people ask me if I
am married, I say yes, because it means settled down, not dating.
If straight people ask me, I say, more or less, "We do not have a
license, but we do have a mortgage."
     "My friend and I; Barney and I; We..."  Since it is difficult
to swallow pronouns and I will not lie, I really have to tell
people that I am gay. (No one has been surprised.)
     I would like it, though, if people would gossip just a little
more.  I do not like to have to "come out" so often on the job. I
wish they would all talk to each other, so I do not have to explain
to each person about my relationship.  People respect my privacy,
which I do appreciate, but I feel like I am revealing so much in a
little work conversation.  What I have to say feels different from
"Yes, my wife Belinda is a lawyer, and we have been married for
four years."
     We see each other's families fairly often.  I have tried, for
ease of conversation, to refer to Barney's brother and sisters as
brother-in-law and sister-in-law, but I always end up explaining
more rather than saying less.
     I will say I visited my sister-in-law, wherein follows a
discussion.  "I didn't know you had a brother," and a
conversational shortcut has become a rather lengthy detour.  It is,
however, quite natural for my 3-year-old niece to call Barney
"uncle," and fun for Barney's three adult nieces to refer to me as
Uncle Herb.
     Until recently, I was usually referenced but not named in the
press.  I have occasionally said to photographers taking our
picture, "Please don't refer to me as 'and friend.'  I have a name
and will tell you if you ask."
     However, I ascribe little malice to the anonymity I am usually
accorded.  I think this is often done out of respect for my
privacy, with editors sometimes assuming that a respectable person
would not want his name printed with something less than
respectable like a gay relationship.
     Most papers respect the old rules of the closet and are
probably following the wishes of a majority of well-known gay
people for whom the occasional column mention was designed to repel
people by making something in the relationship sound bad, like
"live-in heart-throb" or "studly boyfriend" (about which it is
tough to complain).
     We are making progress.  Sometime this year I acquired a name.
While Barney was recovering from a heart attack, he was interviewed
in our Washington home, and what appeared in the Boston Herald was
a very nice account.
     "The congressman, who appeared relaxed and rested, sat on a
white cloth couch in a renovated split-level Washington townhouse
he shares with his companion, Herb Moses..."
     It was normal, and I really appreciated it.  Similarly, a
Boston magazine article on the politically correct had on its guest
list for the politically correct dinner party "Barney Frank and
Herb Moses."
     There is an entire category of situations in which I find I am
telling stranger a lot more of my personal business than perhaps
they wanted to know.  This is a subset of "I don't care what they
do in private, as long as they don't flaunt it."
     The longer we are together, the less inclined I am to fudge a
response to guard the feelings of the inquirer.  Shopping for
clothes, the clerk wanted to steer me to a different size.  I
informed him it was not for me; it was for my boyfriend.  OK, I
could have lied and said it was a gift for my brother, right?
     The longer we are together, the less inclined I am to mute my
behavior for the benefit of others.  We recently attended a charity
ball in Washington.  After dinner, everybody danced.  Barney looked
at me and said, "Should we?"
     "Yeah," I said. "It's a ball; you're supposed to dance."
     I occasionally campaign with Barney, despite a suggestion that
this is something with which people "might not be comfortable."  In
doing so, I try to define a role for myself that will someday serve
as a model for other gay spouses.
     I hope that eventually I will achieve the recognition that
other spouses of U.S. representatives have.  Instead of my mere
existence being a topic of discussion, perhaps someday we can move
on to the important things, like my hair and my clothes.
_
- Dave Strickler, LA, CA