A Little Respect

The Music that Honored my Pride

In 1980 I was a 22-year-old man who had just moved to Los Angeles while remaining an in-the-closet homosexual. The fear I had about being found out was palpable. I had been struggling with authenticity for so long that inauthenticity became my way of life. I accepted that was who I was supposed to be. I put up with the continued lies and character cover-ups in order to avoid what I believed would be harsh judgments and condemnations aimed at me that I had always seen towards others personally and in the news. The only people who really knew I was gay were the ones I secretly slept with. Others may have suspected or wondered, but they did not know for sure because I would never have provided the information. I moved to Los Angeles from Phoenix on June 28 of that year with my wonderful best friend Dave and initially moved into an apartment in West LA on South Carmelina Ave. near Santa Monica Blvd. and Bundy Drive for two years. As a complete illustration of how large this closet I lived in actually was, both Dave and I were gay and neither of us knew about the other one for the entire two years we lived together. We would not find out until years later, and both of us are happily married to our same-sex partner for years in 2022.

I started heading for the closet door in the early 1980s. I discovered West Hollywood and would visit there regularly on my own long before I let anyone in on my inclinations. I never took anyone home, that was out of the question. But the bars began to loosen me up. Being around people I could relate to was healthy, no matter how repressed I came to them with my own fears of being known.  I began to form relationships and soon was being coached on the benefits of authenticity and loving yourself for who you are. I didn’t officially come out to the world outside of the West Hollywood strip of bars until 1983, at the age of 25. At the time I got the job at Revolver but was still working for TGI Fridays in Marina del Rey. At the restaurant job I met a young waiter who had moved out from Indiana (with a girlfriend) and we began seeing each other. It became the relationship where I recognized how tired I was of hiding. It was also around that time that I remember my mother finding out about my sexuality by asking my sister (who I don’t remember telling but somehow obviously knew).

1983 was the beginning. I remember breathing relief for a great deal of time. There was a sense of being more a part of something and being in less of a solitary struggle even though I had already immersed myself into the gay culture for some time. A sense of enormous pride began to form through this new acceptance as well as a result of the beautiful people around me who knew who they were and did not hide from the world. The pride grew enormously over the years that followed based on the joys, celebrations, triumphs, and immense community tragedies that have occurred. Everything drew me in closer, everything made me hold tighter. I began to enjoy being gay, but I also seized on a need for fighting for who I am and who we are as opposition and misinformation continued to hurt us throughout the world. Even today I see the hatred and condemnation ramping up yet again. It only tends to firm my resolve and help me to remember and understand the goodness, creativity, strength, and resilience of my community.

As I began my journey as an out gay man in the early 1980s, I have distinct memories of the music that became my anthems and always helped me to feel better, happier, and prouder. The song that comes to mind first is a tuneful dance song by a popular 80s duo called Erasure. Erasure was comprised of Andy Bell, an out gay man, and Vince Clark (founder of Depeche Mode and Yazoo). Called “A Little Respect,” the song was a plea for compassion and respect to a lover but has lasted as one of the top representations of pride over the years.

“A Little Respect” didn’t arrive until September of 1988 so I would like to pay homage to several other songs that represent my sexuality, community, and progress as a human being through music. In particular, is a song that came to the clubs in 1984 by Bronski Beat and their diminutive (and gay) lead Jimmy Somerville called “Smalltown Boy.” The song semi-autobiographically told the story of Sommerville’s growing up in an oppressive atmosphere toward homosexuals in Scotland. In addition to Bronski Beat, there were so many other tunes and artists that represented gay anthems with or without the explicit lyric to point it out. Some indirectly point to the struggle, others insinuate, but all of them have become innately qualified on dance floors, parties, clubs, and in headphones for many years.

The disco era preceding the 1980s ushered in the boon to gay music culture with dance hits such as Donna Summer’s “I Feel Love,” “You Make Me Feel Mighty Real,” by Sylvester, or “I Am What I Am,” by Gloria Gaynor. I will always remember dancing in trance states to “I Feel Love.”

In the 1980s we were inundated with gay representation with songs like “Relax” by Frankie Goes To Hollywood, “Tainted Love,” by Soft Cell, “It’s a Sin,” or “Go West,” by the Pet Shop Boys (or Village People), “It’s Raining Men,” by the Weather Girls, “I’m Coming Out,” by Diana Ross, “True Colors,” by Cindy Lauper, “Express Yourself,” by Madonna, “I Want To Break Free,” by Queen, “Dancing On My Own,” by Robyn, “Dancing Queen,”  by ABBA, and pretty much any song at all from The Village People.

Of course, gay anthems are not relegated to the 1970s and 1980s, that is just where my music triggers took me this weekend. All other eras have provided special examples of music that celebrates the gay culture and community spirit. I remember one of my first bought singles was a prophetic number by Mama Cass Elliot called “Make Your Own Kind of Music.” There are also smack-you-in-the-face records such as “Born This Way,” by Lady Gaga, “Grace Kelly,” by Mika, “Same Love,” by Macklemore, and absolutely everything ever released by RuPaul.

I pulled on these triggers this week for a number of reasons. For one, as a representation of my own history with pride, and for another as a way to continue to shout that pride. It’s not always easy to watch laws in some states being created to exclude us, push us away, or not even acknowledge our existence. Deep in the heart of a dangerous nation, there are preachers who would just as soon put us in front of firing squads, throw us in jails or an isolated island, or take away existing and possibly future rights. As a result of them, it becomes much easier to turn off the news and turn on the music. For them, there is always going to be music that will overpower their noise. To them, I can only remind us that all humans are created equal and that each and every one of us deserves a little respect.

I’m so in love with you

I’ll be forever blue

What religion or reason

Could drive a man to forsake his lover

Don’t you tell me no, don’t you tell me no, don’t you tell me no, don’t you tell me no

Soul, I hear you calling

Oh baby, please, give a little respect to me.