The real-world consequences of laws stifling honest discussion of sexual and gender

ATLANTA — My wife and I recently watched Jerrod Carmichael’s new comedy special, “Rothaniel.” For those that don’t know Carmichael, he is a comedian, actor, and filmmaker from North Carolina who is probably best known for the NBC series that he co-created, co-wrote, co-produced, and also starred in called “The Carmichael Show.” “Rothaniel” premiered on HBO on April 1.

Before I go any further, I should warn you now that this column contains spoilers. If you’re that person who hates them, stop reading now. You’re welcome.

Anyways, the special was unlike any comedy special I had ever seen before. First, the setting was unusual. Most comedy specials are filmed in relatively large spaces with seating for around a thousand spectators, such as a hall or an auditorium. Megastar comedians like Kevin Hart may even film in arenas. This special was filmed at the world-famous Blue Note Jazz Club in New York City. If you’ve ever been there, you would know that maybe a couple hundred people could fit in that entire space. Much smaller than usual.

Second, the format was different. I expected a stand-up comedy special. Literally. One where the comedian stands up on a stage for an hour or so and delivers jokes. That’s how comedy specials generally go. Not this one. Instead, Carmichael spent the entire special seated in a chair at centerstage. At the outset, Carmichael noted that he wanted the audience to feel like family. Again, not something that you expect to hear at the beginning of a comedy special.

The setting and the format were aligned with his intention. They made for a feeling of intimacy and closeness with Carmichael that remained throughout the special. For what is family other than those with whom you feel a great sense of closeness and intimacy?

The end result was a comedy special that didn’t quite feel like a comedy special. Sure, Carmichael told some jokes. And for sure, they were good. But it felt like making the audience laugh wasn’t Carmichael’s primary goal. His primary goal was to tell a story. And while we’re listening, certain parts of that story might just make us laugh. Not really the approach you expect from a comedian for a comedy special.

The story that Carmichael told is what really made his special truly unique. Carmichael began telling his family history. Then, he told a more personal story. He told the story of his coming out to his friends and family. And through the telling of this story, Carmichael revealed to the public that he was gay.

Carmichael’s storytelling had funny moments, such as when he remarked upon the audience’s surprise by declaring that he himself was surprised by his own sexuality (“I feel you! Sometimes I’ll be in the shower and just like, ‘**** I’m really gay!’”). Or even when Carmichael’s best friend told him that he felt like Carmichael “tricked him” into having a gay best friend.

But for me, what lingers are the more vulnerable moments. Carmichael discussed the shame that he felt about his secret. How at many points, he would “rather die than confront the truth.” How, when he did confront the truth, it changed his relationship with God. How much he feared others knowing about it. How some of his friends and family changed when he told them. How his brother chose not to attend the special’s filming. Most heartbreakingly, he described how his coming out has negatively impacted his relationship with his mother.

Those moments linger because I marveled at his comedic genius in converting such pain into laughable moments, was inspired by his courage in sharing his vulnerability in such a public setting, and, at the same time, felt such an incredible amount of sadness for what he was going through. I could only imagine the burden of carrying such a heavy secret and then, upon releasing that burden, receiving yet another one in the form of what Carmichael described as “love with an asterisk.” The burden that resides in seeing, feeling, and knowing that freeing yourself has placed chains around the relationships that you had with those who were closest to you.

On April 4, two Republican lawmakers introduced House Bill 616, which is based in part upon Florida’s so-called don’t-say-gay law which went into effect in that state in March. The bill would prohibit Ohio schools from teaching, using or providing “any curriculum or instructional materials on sexual orientation or gender identity” in kindergarten through third grade. For grades four through 12, schools would have to stick with “age-appropriate or developmentally appropriate” instructional materials, lessons and curriculum regarding “sexual orientation and gender identity.”

I’m not here to quibble about the language of the bill. Or to talk about how the bill is a solution in search of a problem. What I want to talk about is the sentiment underlying the bill’s introduction, the sentiment that believes that this piece of legislation is necessary.

The sentiment goes like this: Our society has become too accepting of homosexuality and gender fluidity. This increased societal acceptance has contributed to more homosexuals and transgender persons. Schools are a place where children are taught to also be accepting of homosexuality and gender fluidity and thereby implicitly — or explicitly — encouraged to explore their own sexuality and gender identity. As a result, children who would otherwise be heterosexual or cisgender are influenced by teachers to become homosexual or transgender. Therefore, legislation like House Bill 616 is necessary to prevent that undue influence and protect children.

I will concede that, conceivably, it is possible that some child could be influenced by a favorite teacher to consider homosexuality, explore it, then decide that is the final answer. Perhaps that teacher is homosexual and frequently talks about his or her partner. A child becomes intrigued and later comes out as a homosexual. I wouldn’t say that’s impossible. Anything is possible.

But is it likely? I don’t think so. If someone asked me why I’m heterosexual, I certainly wouldn’t ascribe it to a teacher that I had or a school that I went to. I don’t know. I don’t recall ever making a conscious decision about it. I just … am. I think most other heterosexual people would say the same.

It’s funny how the human mind works. Research says that our brains love patterns. They always look for ways to structure information to explain the world around us. Patterns help us survive and give us comfort in unfamiliar surroundings by giving us a sense of control.

As you can expect, our brains don’t like when things break from patterns. They look for ways to explain the aberration. There must be an explanation. The pattern must hold. Research has found that when we don’t have control, we will invent a pattern in our mind to regain control.

In some ways, I feel this is how people view sexuality. Heterosexuality is the pattern. The vast majority of us are heterosexual. Homosexuality is the aberration. If someone is homosexual, there must be some explanation for it. The pattern must hold. We will even invent patterns (teachers causing homosexual children) to regain our sense of control.

I submit to you that whether or not your child will be homosexual is not in your realm of control. Neither is it in the realm of control of your child’s teacher. Or a school’s curriculum.

I have no idea what makes someone homosexual. Similarly, I have no idea what makes someone heterosexual. But what I do know, or at least what I think I know, is that I don’t think anyone is homosexual simply because it looks fun, or to rebel, or because of a teacher.

I can’t imagine that being homosexual is easy. I imagine it can probably feel pretty isolating. Just 7.1% of Americans identify as LGBTQ+. That doesn’t leave a large group of Americans who truly understand your experience.

I would presume that Jerrod Carmichael’s feelings and experience are not unique. Do you tell anyone? What would they think? How would they act? Coming out could cost you friends, family, job prospects, etc. Coming out could cost you everything. I don’t think anyone signs up for that considerable risk on just a whim. Or the influence of a teacher.

I don’t understand why people are homosexual. Scientists don’t, either. But the truth is, we don’t need to. Some things — like most Americans’ heterosexuality — just … are. There’s nothing you can do to control them. Why can’t we acknowledge homosexuality the same way?

Eric Foster, a community member of the editorial board, is a columnist for The Plain Dealer and cleveland.com. Foster is a lawyer in private practice. The views expressed are his own.

To reach Eric Foster: [email protected]

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