Luther Vandross was the avatar of romance. Other people's.
The famed R&B singer, who died last week at 54, zealously
declined to discuss his personal life, telling reporters that it
was "none of your damn business." Indeed, when his biographer Craig
Seymour tried repeatedly to broach the subject of his sexuality,
the singer told him, "You're trying to zero in on something that
you are never ever gonna get....Look at you, just circling the
airport. You ain't never gonna land."
Well, I'm just going to come out and say it. Vandross was
gay.
Not that I've ever slept with him, or even know him personally.
But his gayness was as much an open secret as Liberace's or Peter
Allen's. And like those two similarly flamboyant and energetic
performers, he was a master of hiding in plain sight, neither
confirming nor denying what anyone with even moderately well-tuned
gaydar knew anyway.
So Seymour's biography,
Luther: The Life and Longing of Luther Vandross,
dances around the question it can't quite ignore. As reviewer J.S.
Hall described the book:
Any motions of love and/or romance are followed by the
observation that Vandross has never revealed any of his beloveds'
names or gender. And while they are not traits exclusive to gay
men, Vandross's near-total immersion into his work, his fluctuating
weight, his penchant for perfectionism (and his bitchiness when
things don't live up to his expectations), his love of flashy stage
clothes and the color pink, his flare for interior design and his
ownership and display of a homoerotic David Hockney painting, all
strongly suggest someone who's focused far too much time, energy
and effort into submerging an aspect of himself that he doesn't
wish to deal with.
Or at least, that he didn't wish to deal with publicly and
directly. Instead, Vandross dropped hints, as when he retained the
masculine pronouns in his 1994 recording of Roberta Flack's hit
"Killing Me Softly": "I felt all flushed with fever, embarrassed by
the crowd. I felt he'd found my letters and read each one out
loud."
Such subtlety - some would say "evasiveness" - was consistent
with Vandross's general approach: "I'm more into poetry and
metaphor, and I would much rather imply something rather than to
blatantly state it," he once told a reporter. "You blatantly state
stuff sometimes when you can't think of a poetic way to say
it."
True enough. But you also use poetry and metaphor sometimes when
you're afraid or embarrassed to state things plainly. One can now
only wonder at the full explanation for Vandross's legendary
non-answers.
Perhaps one cannot blame the obituary-writers for being as
elusive as Vandross on the subject of his sexuality. Most do not
mention it at all, and the few that mention it do so only
obliquely. The following, from the
AP story, is typical: "The lifelong bachelor never had any
children, but doted on his nieces and nephews. The entertainer said
his busy lifestyle made marriage difficult; besides, it wasn't what
he wanted."
Well, duh - unless "marriage" is read to include same-sex
marriage. But most readers won't make that connection, and Vandross
would presumably be just fine with that.
Some readers will no doubt think I'm being inappropriate.
Perhaps you agree with Vandross that it's none of our damn
business, and perhaps it isn't. But you can't fault me for pointing
out that a celebrity who made a career out of singing about romance
adopted a rigorous "Don't ask, don't tell" policy regarding his
own. Even if his sexuality is none of our damn business, the irony
of his public posture certainly is.
Or perhaps you'll insist that coming out is a personal choice.
Of course it is. But it doesn't follow that we shouldn't encourage
people to make that choice, or that if they don't we must be
complicit in whatever public posture they assume, including those
that treat gayness as a dirty little secret.
And this, ultimately, is what bothers me about
hide-in-plain-sight gays: their implication that same-sex love is
something unmentionable. As the philosopher Richard Mohr puts
it:
People need to let the gayness of individuals come up where it
is relevant, rather than going along with the shaming social
convention of the closet, the demand that every gay person is bound
to keep every other gay person's secret secret. For the closet is
the site where anti-gay loathing and gay self-loathing mutually
reinforce each other. Even people who are out of the closet demean
themselves when they maintain other people's closets. For the
closet's secret is a dirty little secret that degrades all
people.
Luther Vandross was often rightly praised for the honesty of his
music. If only he had taken that honesty one step further.