"They [ an opposing team ] had a guy right across from me and he was saying, 'You fag, we hate fags, we're gonna kill you.' And I started laughing, because I was, like, this one kid thinks that he's gonna intimidate me after me coming out to my parents, my family, my football team, my coach, my friends, the entire school and the entire community. And I went back to the huddle and the team said, 'Corey, we have your back, don't worry about it.'" — Middletown, Massachusetts' Corey Johnson, the nation's first openly gay football player—and team captain at that, on ABC's 20/20 June 22. Anderson Cooper reported the story, which included interviews with Corey's mom, teammates, and the Masconomet High School teacher who probably saved his life by being open and understanding. Corey also spoke at the March on Washington April 30.
" [ He ] started to cry. And he said 'You know how you tell me you love me every morning before I go to school?' And I said, 'Yeah.' And he said, 'Mom, you know how you tell me you love me before I go to bed at night?' And I said, 'Yeah.' And he said to me, 'I never want that to change.' And I said, 'Corey, that would never change.' And he said to me, 'Mom, I'm gay.' And I said to him, 'Corey, I love you unconditionally. You're my son. And I love you. And that doesn't matter to me.' And he said to me, 'But, Mom, I'm the captain of the football team.' And I said to him, 'So what?'" — Corey's mom Ann.
"Corey had reason to fear. The world of football is notoriously homophobic, a gay football player coming out to any team risks being ostracized, harassed or worse. There are no openly gay professional football players. And in high school, players pride themselves on being macho, tough. Nearly every day in the locker room, Corey would have to listen as his teammates talked about sex and ridiculed gays." — Anderson Cooper, who also noted that Corey's coaches are even trying to temper their use of anti-gay comments when motivating players. No more "you play like a fag" at that school.
"As soon as he opened it up to questions I sort of raised my hand and said, 'Don't worry about it' Like, 'We're your friends more than like your teammates.' So, it was cool." — Jim Walan, a teammate of Corey's, to 20/20, on Corey's coming out to the team.
"It was a symbol of tearing down of the church's secrets and lies. In Ireland, it was coming out [ that ] there had been child abuse within the church and it had been shut up. It wasn't an attack on the man." — Now-out-lesbian Sinead O'Connor on her tearing up a picture of Pope John Paul II on Saturday Night Live in 1992.
"I'm very much a feminist. Women can say that now without it meaning they hate men. I adore men. I think there should also be a men's movement which is not anti-women.'' — Sinead O'Connor to AP.
"Since she recorded her first album, Society's Child, at age 15, legendary singer/songwriter Janis Ian has proven herself a rare gem in the recording industry. Girlfriends' special July music issue highlights Ian and her achievements. In her latest album, God and the FBI, Ian takes on everything from the political outrage of the FBI's surveillance of her family in the 1950s: 'It's pretty staggering—the waste of resources and also, to me, the sheer rudeness of it,' to themes of love, loss and making one last big comeback. This album tops a recording career that includes 17 albums and countless tours. Add to that the fact that she is openly gay and has established herself in Nashville, Tenn., the good-old-boy capital of the world." — A promo for Girlfriends.
"Hypocrisy—that's why I detest the [ Catholic ] clergy so much. Everybody knows that it is full of prominently repressed homosexuals or pedophiles, for God's sake. Sheer hypocrisy. They're always in drag. The biggest drag show is high mass." — Author John Rechy to Genre magazine, July issue.
"Politics and civil rights played a relatively small role in the festivities. There was little mention of Vermont's new civil union law providing marriage benefits to homosexuals; Proposition 22, the California initiative banning recognition of gay marriages; or radio talk show host Laura Schlessinger, who has enraged gay rights groups by saying homosexuality is 'deviant.' Much of the parade was devoted to camp and satire, with the acid-tongued fashion guru Mr. Blackwell as grand marshal, waving to the crowd as two men fanned him with giant feathers." — From Associated Press coverage of Los Angeles June 11 gay-pride parade.
"My father smoked a cigar, and I hated it, and I hated him. But then I used to have a master who would light up a cigar the minute he'd arrive at my house. I hated it, but then I found it thrilling. And I'm sure it was all tied up with my father." — Author Edmund White to Genre magazine, July issue.
"I'm always tempted to get married. I was engaged twice. And I get along with women so well. And they're so much more reliable than men. They're warmer and cozier and more faithful. Men are impossible. They're so moody. Women are accommodating and loving." — Edmund White to Genre.
"Not many years ago, the Central Intelligence Agency automatically denied a security clearance to anyone it suspected was homosexual, on the theory that gay men and lesbians were ripe for blackmail. This week, the CIA held a gay pride celebration at its Langley headquarters, hosting gay Rep. Barney Frank ( D-Mass. ) at a ceremony intended to underscore how far the agency has come from its homophobic past." — The Washington Post June 9.
"The problem was in earlier times one of blackmail. If the blackmail threat is removed, which has been done socially and culturally over the years and was ratified by the Clinton order in the summer of 1995, it seems to me gays and lesbians ought to be able to be CIA officers." — R. James Woolsey, CIA director 1993 to early 1995.
"Isn't it interesting that the people who defend your right to keep a gun under your pillow are the same ones who want to dictate what happens on top of your mattress? They won't admit to this, of course. If the forces of intolerance learned anything during the civil rights struggle, it was to be careful not to call things what they are. Bad PR, you know. So racism became 'states' rights.' Sexism became 'family values.' And homophobia is now cloaked within the quaint and meaningless term, 'defense of marriage.' The self-anointed defenders of marriage were scrambling to the barricades last week after the state Public Employees Benefits Board voted to provide health insurance benefits to the live-in partners of gay and lesbian state workers." — Columnist Michael Zuzel in the Vancouver, Wash., Columbian May 30.
"So polite. So reasonable. The anti-gay crowd clearly has mastered the ability to restrain its rhetoric but it cannot disguise the implication that what homosexuals do in the privacy of their bedrooms somehow makes them second-class citizens. Those voices, sadly, have now been joined by The Columbian's editorial board, which last Saturday abruptly reversed at least a quarter-century of support of equal treatment for gays by editorializing against domestic-partner benefits for state workers. The newspaper has gone from decrying 'the humiliation borne on ( gays ) by people who are unwilling to trade prejudice for understanding,' as it did in a 1975 editorial, to treating gays as just another social problem to be denounced and abhorred." — Zuzel. Write mike.zuzel@columbian.com .
"Anthony Spotten, a gay man with HIV, stood during a Sunday service last June [ 1999 ] at Green Memorial AME Zion Church and offered his testimony. ... He told the congregation about his own experience. But then he broadened the message, explaining how AIDS is ravaging the African-American community across the nation, and the churches are ignoring it. He called on the congregation for support in fighting the epidemic, so that more young people don't get sick. He told worshipers that he was about to attend an AIDS conference in Philadelphia and would bring information back to share with the church, if anyone was willing to help. 'When he was finished, there wasn't a dry eye in the house,' said the Rev. Margaret Lawson, pastor of the church. 'He changed everybody's life that day when it comes to AIDS awareness and homosexuality because we are all God's people. He got many hugs that day.' Spotten's courageous decision to share his personal feelings and challenge fellow churchgoers led to a grass-roots effort by the church to reach out to African-Americans in Maine who suffer from HIV and AIDS, and build a network of support." — The Portland Press Herald, June 3.
