Springfield gays shouldn’t feel that they need to hide

By Rick Incorvati

5:14 PM Saturday, July 10, 2010

Walk any street that runs the length or width of our town, and you’re bound to see the diversity that shapes the character of Springfield. Fountain, Main, Yellow Springs, and High all provide snapshots of the religious, ethnic, racial and cultural richness that makes this a rewarding place to call home.

But regardless of your chosen avenue, one dimension of Springfield’s diversity is conspicuously hidden, namely the gay, lesbian, and transgender Springfielders.

To get some sense of the peculiar silence of this group, just compare our city to those other urban centers along I-70, Dayton and Columbus, both of which offer annual pride festivals, community centers for sexual minorities, openly gay elected officials and active organizations for gay citizens (as well as their parents and friends).

Yes, we’re a smaller place than those cities, but something is surely amiss when we come up with blanks in all of the above categories.

For some Springfielders, I realize, the absence of this particular kind of diversity is a condition to be embraced, if not distilled, bottled, and speedily shipped to any community where rainbow flags fly with impunity. I don’t share this view.

I am a gay Springfielder, one who enjoys this city, its people, and especially the good work that gets done here on behalf of those who struggle to get by.

My single greatest pleasure in the eight years that I’ve lived in town has been the opportunity to work with, and learn from, some of the generous people involved in this community’s outreach efforts.

But in those eight years, I’ve also come to less satisfying realizations about the condition of gay, lesbian, and transgender people here.

How, for example, can we reconcile the lack of their presence in public life with the fact that, if Springfield is statistically average, somewhere between 2,000 and 3,000 such citizens call this city their home?

It’s fairly safe to assume that such people do live here, but have opted to do so inconspicuously, and I can vouch for at least some Springfielders meeting this description.

That being the case, it’s perhaps also reasonable to assume that their decision has something to do with not feeling sufficiently at home in their own community to do otherwise.

Springfield, we have a problem.

Living a secret life does no favors to a person’s overall well-being. Anyone saddled with the task of concealing significant parts of his or her life from family, neighbors, friends, coworkers, and perhaps religious communities, will inevitably wrestle daily with a good deal more self-consciousness and psychological turbulence than the average person.

All this concealment also has the effect of erasing role models. Most recent studies put the risk of suicide among gay teens 20 to 40 percent higher than the average for their heterosexual peers.

Almost certainly, the internal conflicts triggered by questions of sexual identity are intensified when a community provides no good road maps and, in some cases, no indication whatsoever that it’s possible to live happily and productively while also affirming one’s own sexual disposition.

Finally, invisibility doesn’t serve any community in matters of social justice, even when it comes to ensuring some basic conditions of a good life. It remains legal, for example, in many communities to fire, evict and deny services to anyone because of his or her perceived or actual sexual identity.

When a state senator was recently asked to vote for a measure that would prohibit housing and workplace discrimination (a measure which passed the House last September), he claimed such laws were unnecessary because he saw little evidence of this kind of prejudice in his district.

Out of sight, out of mind.

The ugly truth is that when any group is small, invisible, unorganized and short on money and lobbyists, politicians can easily disregard its concerns without full consideration, especially when those concerns happen to be politically complicated. This is the case even when the protections involved are far from radical.

A good number of Ohio communities, choosing not to wait on state legislators, have adopted their own nondiscrimination provisions. These are communities like Akron, Canton, Cincinnati, Cleveland, Columbus, Dayton, and Toledo. Springfield has considered, but not yet offered any protections.

Certainly, Springfield could further cultivate its rich diversity by legally assuring some inconspicuous people that they can, without fear of discrimination, live and work here openly, should they choose to do so.

The good-will I’ve experienced in this city suggests that we’re more than equal to the task.

Rick Incorvati lives and works in Springfield, is a member of Christ Episcopal Church, and volunteers with Equality Ohio, an advocacy group for gay, lesbian, and transgender Ohioans.

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