I was a gay man living in the epicenter of 20th-century America's worst health epidemic.
Sentiment: NEGATIVE
I have been hung in effigy by the gay community for a long time, from when I was on President Reagan's first AIDS commission.
In the '50s and '60s, the life of a gay man was a secret. Homosexuality was illegal, so you didn't draw attention to yourself.
One result of An American Family was that I became a gay role model.
I think also there was a lot of coming to terms with where I am in life, where I fit in as a gay man in America, and getting more comfortable with who I am.
I live in a kind of gay bubble. I live in a gay house, I drive a gay car. I eat gay food.
Gay life in 1970 was very bleak, compartmentalized. You didn't take it to work. You had to really lead a double life. There were bars, but you sort of snuck in and snuck out. Activism and gay pride simply didn't exist. I don't even think the word 'gay' was in existence.
We didn't exist. Ronald Reagan didn't say the word 'AIDS' until 1987. I've tried desperately to get a meeting in the White House; Gay Men's Health Crisis is already an established organization. I have a certain presence.
For some strange reason, my gay life didn't get easier when I came out. Quite the opposite happened, really.
My gayness became quietly accepted and, shock of all shocks, life went on.
My dad was a homicide cop in the gay neighborhood in the city when gay neighborhoods were desperate, depressing, sad places run by the mob. The only gay people he'd met when I came out to him were corpses.