“I hail from Harlem, a place that has infused every fiber of my being. I was born, raised, and enriched by the vibrant essence of this neighborhood,” declared Audrey Smaltz, an 86-year-old former model and esteemed figure in the fashion industry. I had the pleasure of meeting her at a reception in Midtown Manhattan, where she effortlessly radiated charm and flirtation.
Smaltz reminisced about the remarkable men who graced her life, but it was an encounter in 1999 that reshaped her world. Gail Marquis, an Olympic basketball star 17 years Smaltz’s junior, invited her to dinner. Smaltz didn’t view it as a date and had no inkling of interest in women at the time. However, when Marquis bid her good night with a kiss, Smaltz was taken aback. She confessed, “It was like kissing a man.” She laughed and exclaimed, “I couldn’t believe myself! Whoa!” In 2011, they exchanged wedding vows.
Smaltz’s story challenges prevailing norms. According to Pew Research Center, individuals typically begin questioning their sexuality around the age of 12. Gallup’s data from last year indicated that about one in five Gen Z adults identify as L.G.B.T. However, we often overlook those, like Smaltz and myself, who come out later in life due to various circumstances. Recently, I had the privilege of speaking with several individuals from across the country who shared their experiences. Their stories were not just informative and enlightening but also profoundly uplifting.
One common thread emerged from my interviews: most of the women I spoke with didn’t previously experience same-sex attraction. Instead, they fell in love with specific individuals, rather than seeking relationships with women in general. Niecy Nash-Betts, the renowned film and TV star, recounted a transformative moment during a dinner with her friend, singer Jessica Betts. She recalled feeling an unexpected surge of emotion, akin to what she experiences when she likes a boy. At the age of 50, Nash-Betts married Betts, affectionately referring to her as her “hersband.”
When asked about her identification within the L.G.B.T.Q. community, Nash-Betts swiftly responded, “taken,” implying that her connection with Betts transcends age and gender. This aversion to traditional labels permeated my interviews. As Smaltz playfully stated, “I’m not a lesbian; Gail is.” She chuckled but added, “I’m in love with a lesbian.” Smaltz doesn’t define herself in that way because her love is solely for Gail. A similar sentiment was echoed by Jenna von Oÿ, known for her roles in “Blossom” and “The Parkers.” Although she acknowledged a slight attraction to women in the past, it wasn’t until she fell deeply in love with her same-sex partner at 40 that she realized it was a profound, authentic connection.
In her book, “Sexual Fluidity: Understanding Women’s Love and Desire,” Lisa Diamond, a distinguished professor, delves into the concept of sexual orientation fluidity among women. Her research challenges the notion of being solely “born this way.” Diamond argues that while genetics play a role in sexual attraction, it’s not the sole determinant. Sexuality is complex and varies across a wide spectrum of queer identities and realities. Claiming that exclusively gay individuals are more deserving of acceptance than those who come out later in life with fluid attractions is unjust, as Diamond aptly argues.
As a bisexual man, I find Diamond’s analysis particularly resonant. It unveils the rigid binary construct that imposes itself on those of us whose identities don’t conform to the gay-straight paradigm from birth to death. Unfortunately, individuals who come out late, especially those who previously identified as heterosexual, often face fear and resistance. Their journeys threaten the established narrative individuals have crafted about their own sexuality.
Those who come out later in life, especially those previously in heterosexual marriages that produced children, share a common concern for their families. Pierre Lagrange, an investor and former hedge fund manager, spent over two decades married to a woman before acknowledging his attraction to men at age 48. He initially feared breaking apart his loving family. However, when he shared his truth with his wife and children, their response was loving and understanding, removing the weight of his apprehension. In 2019, Lagrange married Ebs Burnough, a filmmaker and former White House advisor.
Barbara Satin, an 88-year-old transgender woman in Minneapolis, experienced similar concerns about her marriage and family when she decided to disclose her true gender identity. Living as a man, she believed she had been hiding her authentic self since childhood. She got married on the premise that it would suppress her feelings. However, it wasn’t until she turned 60 that she mustered the courage to tell her son. His response was one of unwavering love and acceptance, assuaging Satin’s fears. Satin and her wife are now working through their new reality together.
Coming out encompasses diverse experiences. Some individuals burst out, while others gradually spiral out. Some opt for a grand announcement on social media, while others selectively disclose their truth to different circles in their lives. The individuals I interviewed mostly identified with the spiral approach, similar to Lagrange, Satin, and myself…
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