“When I Knew,” an anthology that includes my short essay, is among the hundreds of books that were dumped by rightwing anti-gay minions at New College of Florida.
“Sarasota’s New College, the once liberal arts school subjected to a “hostile takeover” by well-rewarded, ultra-conservative DeSantis allies, was exposed by the city’s Herald-Tribune for dumping thousands of library books, including a clear-out of its gender and diversity center.
Democratic politicians likened it to Nazi-era book burning,
and a preview of the extremist Project 2025 agenda linked to the
Republican former president Donald Trump’s campaign to win back the
White House in November.
“These messages are
coming from DeSantis’s appointed and approved leaders, and the governor
should just go ahead and admit he wants to be the dictator that Trump
wants to be, because that’s what this is,” said the Democratic state
congresswoman Yvonne Hayes Hinson.
“This
shameful book dump is just the latest chapter in this Republican
regime’s war on books and ideas. How insecure do you have to be to ban
books on gender and women’s studies. They’re just plain weird.”
This is what happens when rightwing idiots think they’re going to take over and suppress books and ideas that they think are “woke.” Of course the opposite of being woke is being stupidly asleep at the wheel while the world continues to evolve.
The idiocy of all this is that these books still exist. You can’t make a book disappear. They can be republished in new editions, or be found in other libraries or sold at used bookstores.
Here’s my contribution to “When I Knew,” edited by Robert Trachtenberg, with a sweet –and accurate– illustration by Tom Bachtell. Contributions include short essays by B. D. Wong, Arthur Laurents, Simon Doonan, Stephen Fry, Marc Shaiman, Michael Musto and many others. Imagine trying to censor the voices of these accomplished people.
You can buy a copy on BookShop, and, if you’re inspired, donate it to your local library.
Billy Bean and Jim Provenzano. photo: Rick Gerharter
Only the second major league baseball player to come out after retirement, Billy Bean was a pioneer in a subtle way. He played for different teams, had ups and downs and a pivotal later success. Bean died of Leukemia on August 6, and is survived by his husband, Greg Baker.
What he's known for most recently is bringing Major League Baseball into the 21st century as an ambassador for diversity and inclusion in the league. What did Bean accomplish?
According to The Advocate, 19 baseball players have come out in the past few years. If Bean helped that happen, let's give him credit. And only this week, The Boston Red Sox Jarren Duran was suspended for two games after shouting an antigay epithet to a fan. He later issued an apology.
Life-changing "Billy Bean was never a star," wrote John Casey for The Advocate. "in fact, his career statistics, spread over
six years with four different teams, were what one player would record
in just half a season - if he’d last that long. Bean’s career batting
average was a paltry .219, so theoretically, anyone hitting .219 for
half a season would most likely be benched."
An All-American outfielder twice, Bean led Loyola Marymount to the College World Series in 1986, and retired at age 31. After the coming out news subsided, Bean actually shied away from doing the lecture circuit until he was convinced by Judy Shepherd to take advantage of that his moment.
So, when MLB asked him to become a Senior Vice President for Diversity, Equity and
Inclusion, Bean returned to the sport he loved, and developed and implemented initiatives aimed at promoting DEI within the sport.
Billy Bean flying to catch a ball in the outfield
Maura McGurk, writing eloquently for OverTheMonster, recalled that she was at the Mariners game on
Tuesday night [August 6] "when they announced Bean's death before the game and paused
for a moment of remembrance. They were playing the Tigers,
Bean’s first team. With all our recent trade-deadline talk about
prospects, here’s one to note: Bean was one of those coveted prospects
who couldn’t make it in the big leagues.
"His résumé and early successes
promised great things, and he started to deliver right away. In his
first game, he rapped out four hits, tying a record for a player in his
first MLB debut. Detroit fell in love with him. But from those
attention-getting beginnings, he made only 519 plate appearances in 272
total games, and retired at 31 years old.
A double debut After coming out in 1999, Bean made headlines in the media. His cover feature in a late December issue of The Advocate, coincidentally featured –on the last editorial page– the first major review for my debut novel PINS about about high school wrestlers.
At the same time, Sports Complex, my syndicated column for the Bay Area Reporter and other publications and websites included a different sport each week. Although I had already interviewed dozens of major LGBTQ athletes as well as hundreds of team members in amateur leagues, I tried to get an interview with Bean.
But at the time, when someone comes out big time, there's a kind of hierarchy. The cover story in The Advocate was published, as well as an extensive feature in The New York Times, where Robert Lipsyte told of Bean's multiple struggles in the sports industry while being closeted, even while he was briefly married to a woman.
In the first rush of publicity, Bean's handlers rejected initial interview requests from smaller newspapers. Snub moi? We were in the same issue of The Advocate.
I was a bit put off and should've perhaps requested a later interview.
But by the time his memoir came out, I was onto other non-sporty work.
Billy Bean and David Kopay. photo: Rick Gerharter
Meet & greet Lipsyte would later host a panel session (in 2000?) at the San Francisco Public Library with gay former football player David Kopay. I attended that and wrote about the event, and had interviewed Kopay. But what surprised both former sportsmen was when I offered a few baseballs for Billy to sign. Kopay also signed a football for me.
In a bit of foresight, I asked Bean to sign two baseballs. One I still own, and treasure. "I'll never sell it," I told him. He laughed.
I forgot what else we discussed, but I'm happy that I was able to find the photos from the event with the help of photographer Rick Gerharter.
Anyway, balls. The other one I eventually donated to the GLBT Historical Society. It would five years before I would be asked to design and curate "Sporting Life," the first-ever LGBT sports exhibit, at the Society's former space in downtown San Francisco.
In that decade, I spent years writing about the LGBT sports community. It was never about statistics, as other writers like to ponder. It was about the people and how their lives were improved through playing sports and having fun.
Bean's memoir, Going the Other Way, with accomplished journalist Chris Bull, was released in 2014. In it, he shared the anguish he experienced being in the closet, including having a boyfriend whom he could not introduce to friends or players. How far he'd come before passing.
So while I never got the in-depth interview I would've liked to get in those days, I'm proud to have met him a few times, and thanked him.
Posthumous praise continues, as in the MLB tribute (website video below). It's impossible to count how many younger LGBTQ athletes, also inspired by the 144 or so who competed at the Olympics in Paris, can find a place to see themselves on the field, in the pool, or in the game.
While perhaps not for his record on the field (which is still better than many), Bean's outreach and intelligent sensitivity training throughout the sport will be part of his legacy.
Gregg: I’m guessing that you’ve been out of high school for a while.
However, you’ve succeeded in giving the setting gravitas and
authenticity. What are the rewards and challenges for you when it comes
to writing about the 1970s?
Me: I feel a kind
of responsibility to describe that era because those who experienced
that are part of an elder generation that needs to tell their stories.
It’s also a very rich time in terms of music, fashion, good or bad, and
just the whole era of it was innocent in some ways. And since the 1970s
are now 40 years ago, I like to presume that it could be considered
historical fiction.
