Extend the Outrage

Stark and slick,
Outrage

makes a piercing, sobering indictment of the hypocrisy of
closeted gay politicians who, in their straight persona, deny
their fellow gays equality and justice by voting against gay
rights ranging from hate-crime protections to same-sex
marriage to adoptions by gay and lesbian parents. America
is not well led, nor are its populations well served
by politicians who seek power and forget the truth of who they
are. The betrayal of their own integrity as gay persons in
order to gain political power and the subsequent use of that
power to cause harm to gay and lesbian citizens is enough to
raise our adrenaline. Yet below the layers of the film's
crisscrossing of personal and political events lies a side
story of betrayal and pain that also needs to be addressed. I
fear it may get lost amid the core message of the
film.

I'm not referring to
the individual snapshots of the private relationships and
straight-faced denials of men like Idaho senator Larry Craig
and Florida governor Charlie Crist, who engage in double talk
when their same-sex activities are revealed. No, the side story
that needs to be raised to a higher level of awareness is that
of the straight wives who find themselves in the glass closets
of politicians who rose in the ranks to take the helm of a
state government or to represent their constituencies in the
House of Representatives or the Senate by denying who they
were. The wives' stories spotlight the costs paid by everyone
in a family and community when a gay person feels obliged to
hide who he or she is and pretend to be someone else in order
to be accepted and gain power. More important, their story is a
cautionary tale that reveals the far-reaching damage done by
antigay attitudes and heterosexist expectations that still
prevail in America.

We get glimpses in the
film of the impact of closeting on the women in these men's
lives. The few we see, like the wives of Senator Craig and
Governor Crist, look stunned or disbelieving when their
husbands are found in compromising situations. We see former
New Jersey governor Jim McGreevey's wife, frozen in place in
her light blue suit beside him as he announces to a national TV
audience, "I am a gay American." The three women are but a
tiny fraction of the up to 2 million straight wives (and
husbands) in the United States who were or are married to gay
or lesbian partners. Altogether, they form an invisible
minority, an untold chapter in the history of the gay
movement.