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Coming Out, and "The Closet"
An historical review on the semantics of the terms

This piece cannot be as extensive or elaborate as I would like, for I lack further resources to research the subject, however, in preparing the seventh and final screenplay for The Secret Melville series, I once again encountered the phrase "to come out" in a clear LGBT context in that author's work.

I wonder if straight people are even aware of it? Aware that there is a massive current of denial that Gay people ever existed in the past? Now, you are asking why I would raise such a provocative statement in the form of a question. I do so, because when it comes to researching the historical context relating to how men and women who loved each other led their lives, the omnipresent crush of opposite-sex politics 'sterilizes' the past out of a misplaced sense that "gay" is a new thing and was non-existent before the Stonewall Riots forced it down their throats.[1]

In terms of words and phrases, this suppression extends from current times back for centuries. Two examples might suffice: "sagging" (or, more properly, saggin') is the practice of young men wearing their beltlines on or below their backsides. When the practice arose within the U.S. prison system in the 1980s there was fair and honest discussion in the press that it was a sexual display. Fellow inmates generally advise young men entering the correctional system that they have two options: fight or fuck. If the latter is chosen, these young men can expect their selected companions to protect them, provide services, obtain food treats, get drugs, and more often than not, offer love. Saggin' arose as a means to show which young man was looking for such a relationship.[2] As I say, the original comments were unequivocal as to the reasons why this new display appeared, however now, several decades on, most information available will strongly deny any 'gay' connection at all.[3] The second phrase is much, much older: "mate." The historian Barry Richard Burg shows that there was an unbroken cultural chain of 'men on the loose,' for lack of a better term.[4] This culture was fully in place at least by the 17^th century, and he shows that men formed bonds based on extended communities of the same sex. To say they formed "gangs" is one way of understanding this subculture, and members of it often fell victim to the brutal practices of Royal Navy impressments.[5] "Britons never will be slaves" must have struck cold ears of the men enslaved under the lash of the Sovereign's naval task-masters, however, the culture of mutual protection and of forming lasting partnerships went with these men as they became seamen. And just as the latter culture of being on the road and a hobo carried on these traditions, "mate" was used to denote which men were together. This was the natural, the most direct term to show which pair of men in the broader group were partnered in a loving bond. With the rise of the fear of Gay people that became rampant beginning in the second half of the 19^th century, "mate" was sterilized to be synonymous with "friend," even though the very nature of the word belies much more than fraternity.[6]

So, two examples of how straight society, and their complacent and self-repressed gay allies, muddy the waters of LGBT studies. I say all of this as prelude, because even such basic terms as "gay," "fag," "faggot," "punk," have lost the context of when and how they arose because of straight society's obfuscation. Such too are the phrases "come out," and "the closet."

When and where and in what context did these phrases take on LGBT overtones? And is it even correct for us today to link them together, as in "to come out of the closet?"

Truth be told, the phenomenon of linking those phrases together, is rather recent.

The historian George Chauncey links "coming out" to the post WWI emergence of Gay culture in the North Eastern United States. In Gay New York, Gender, Urban Culture and the Making of the Gay Male World, 1890-1940,[7] Chauncey links the term to a camp reading of high society customs where young ladies "came out" at balls once they turned sixteen years old. From that point on, they were "in" high society. He further states that Harlem drag queens co-opted the phrase and concept at their own balls. Here drag mamas present new accolades who were polished and ready to be "in the life," as current parlance had anyone living a more or less out life. There is no linking of the phrase to any notion of a closet. His theory is an intriguing one, and very hard to refute, except for the existence of the phrase in a Gay context from much earlier than the 1920s.[8]

In his 1852 novel, Pierre or the Ambiguities,[9] Melville presents the very complex title character with a simple country friend named Charlie Millthorpe. In the best traditions of coded language, Charlie tells us himself that he "will never marry." But he goes further than that, and at two places in the book, he seems on the verge of wanting to tell Pierre a deep and secret intimacy he has concerning the other young man.
He confesses to Pierre:

"By marriage, I might contribute to the population of men, but not to the census of mind. The great men are all bachelors, you know. Their family is the universe: I should say the planet Saturn was their elder son; and Plato their uncle."

To initiated 19^th century minds, such a statement is a gold mine of Gay cultural references. Saturn was seen in astrological terms as the principal governor of the more sanguine aspects of male same-sex relations, and has a cultural tradition as such that stretches back at least to ancient Greece.[10] Likewise, a reference to "our uncle Plato" can almost be seen as being spoken with a wink.

Melville, sufficiently establishing that Charlie is Gay, then goes on to put the "coming out" phrase in his mouth.

In Book XX, he tells Pierre: "Hark now, in your ear; I think of throwing off [my] disguise and coming boldly out; Pierre! I think of stumping the State, and preaching our philosophy to the masses."

The second occurrence appears in Book XXIII. Here Pierre's rejected lover, Lucy, writes to him and almost builds a powerful refrain of the term to try and convey her love for the title character: "But all this was vacancy; little I clutched; nothing I knew; 'twas less than a dream, my Pierre. […] But now, this long, long swoon is past; I come out again into life and light; but how could I come out, how could I any way be, my Pierre, if not in thee?"

The nature of this letter is a pleading attempt to allow Lucy to come and live with him, but not to engage sexually with him. She begs him to allow her to come out and love him in the open, and not care what society has to say about such an unorthodox living arrangement. In this context, it matches Charlie's statement that he wishes to tear off his disguise and come out to "stump the State," by which he means the government and her court system.

In both cases, "to come out" infers of the reading of "come out with the truth," end secrecy, and do so in a way that thumbs a nose at other people's perception of convention.

So where does the closet come in (pun intended)?

Well, here it gets interesting. Mark Mitchell and David Leavitt edited a fascinating anthology of Gay literature. They surveyed major works from a period between 1748 to 1914, and payed particular attention to a Melville short story.[11] I and My Chimney was originally published in Putnam's Magazine in 1856. It is a rather mysterious 'story,' where the only proper reading involves a great application of analogy to understand it. Ostensibly, it is the first-person account of a middle-aged man who lives in a Colonial era house. This house is dominated by a great central chimney, below which is a room. This is a secret place where the man never allows his wife to enter, but to which place he often goes to seek retreat from her. His "closet" is where he can be himself, and although his wife – or, indeed no female – is allowed admittance, his handsome young neighbor-man is often there with him in soulful seclusion.

Mitchell and Leavitt have the following blunt statement to make: "I and My Chimney" is the source of "the closet" – and of its integrity. The wife of "I" supposes the chimney to contain a secret closet, and badgers her husband to open it. In the end, however, "I" prevails: "Besides, even if there were a secret closet, secret it should remain, and secret it shall. Yes, wife, here for once I must say my say. Infinite sad mischief has resulted from the profane bursting open of secret recesses."[12]

So could Melville really be the alpha and omega of both "to come out" and "the closet?" Further research will need to be done, but any information and opinions you have to offer will be humbly considered and followed up by me. One thing is certain, Gay men of the 19^th and 20^th centuries treasured Melville's writings as among the most honest and open portrayals of same-sex love among men, and as such, were constantly at the forefront of a fledgling concept of a new and bolder Gay identity. So, it is very plausible he was the originator of both concepts and uses in the Gay community.

Another contender for the closet phrase may come from a woman-loving-woman perspective. The following Emily Dickinson poem was published in 1935, and very well may have influenced our contemporary use of the term. It is not controversial to say that Dickinson's work, and the affectional ties she formed to a small group of women in her life, has informed a reading of her work from the perspective of same-sex love; I might argue that much of her work is only decipherable if approached from such an understanding.
 

 

 

 

Now, with all of this being said, I humbly ask that you please let me know what you think.

 

 

 

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[1] The comments left behind on Youtube videos are hardly taken seriously by anyone, however they can be informative about attitudes. One young man (presumably a straight young man) left a telltale cultural marker on a video of The Village People performing the song Y.M.C.A. Without malice, as I interpret it, this fellow was deeply surprised that Gay people and Gay culture existed before circa 1980. In his mind at least, it was the AIDS crisis that had brought people 'out,' and united them in community spirit, of which he is not mistaken.

 

[2] Consequently, once such a partnership was cemented, the young man stopped saggin'.

[3] If interested, I need only point you to the Wikipedia entry on the subject.

[4] See the 1995 edition of his book, Sodomy and the Pirate Tradition. This edition is interesting for the inclusion of a Introduction to the New Edition, where the straight majority's reaction to the book's 1983 appearance is spoken about extensively. He elaborates specific tendencies to suppress material simply because it speaks to the existence of Gay people leading ordinary lives in the past.

[5] See: http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Impressment

[6] There is a very funny example of how unconcerned Anglo-American culture is by the idea of same-sex relations. In the 1987 film, Hope and Glory, a young boy is in London during the blitz and joins a 'gang' of other youths. As part of his initiation ceremony, he is told to name bad words. When he says "fuck" as the very first one, the boys are aghast. The leader tells the young initiate that they were hoping for less shocking ideas, like "bugger" and "sod" (both terms for consensual male-male intercourse). But to think of it, why is it less offensive in our culture to make reference to same-sex sex than to opposed-sex intercourse? Because, going back in time, 'buggery' was no big deal. That casualness survives in the language of our culture even though it was made to appear non-existent, and 'too dreadful for words,' by the powers that rose at the end of the 19th century. You can see the scene here:

 

[7] 1994 New York.

[8] Ibid., pages 7-10 and 291-299.

[9] Harper Brothers, New York.

[10] See Man, Myth and Magic, An Illustrated Encyclopedia of the Supernatural, 1970 London – Volume 18 covers essays on both the Roman god Saturn, and his holiday, Saturnalia, which was arguably the single most important celebration on the Latin calendar.

[11] Pages Passed from Hand to Hand, 1997 Boston.

[12] Ibid., page 22.

 

 

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