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Breathe out, Ian Thorpe, and thank you Breathe out, Ian Thorpe, and thank you
(about 1 month later)
Thank you, Ian Thorpe. In the minds of gay people across Australia Thank you, Ian Thorpe. In the minds of gay people across Australia who have followed your spectacular international swimming career, you have again joined the ranks of the elite. Your public self-outing means so much in a country such as this one, where sport is the king of culture and young people who do not fit the mould suffer in silence, or worse.
who have followed your spectacular international swimming career, you have again You are now part of a handful of local gay sporting heroes who, accidental role models or not, have demonstrated it is OK to be different. You came to this careful decision at the age of 31 in a prime-time discussion with British interviewer Michael Parkinson.
joined the ranks of the elite. Your public self-outing means so much in a No one else should expect the right to out you; your decision to publicly make peace with your own truth should be entirely about yourself. I am sorry you were being asked at age 16 if you were gay. That is completely inappropriate. I couldn’t bring myself to use the word about myself until I was 24, so I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve had “faggot” yelled at me in the street, too, and always thought the best way to combat verbal and physical attacks was to be out and proud, and safer in numbers. But that’s just me. We all come to this decision in our own time. I’m pleased that your family is supportive, and I guess your mum is just being honest when she says she was shocked at the revelation of your sexuality, even now.
country such as this one, where sport is the king of culture and young people You can understand, hopefully, why so many wanted to co-opt you as a role model, and followed you with such intense concern. You have always carried yourself with such grace, intelligence and charm; who wouldn’t want you on their team? Even in recent years, when your long, quiet battle with depression outlined in your 2012 autobiography has weighed so heavily, manifesting in alcohol abuse. We put our sports heroes on such monolithic plinths in Australia; the worst of our natures, shamefully, is that we watch voyeuristically, then share sneaky smartphone and paparazzi snaps when the edifice crumbles.
who do not fit the mould suffer in silence, or worse. The handful of self-selected, outed elite sports people in Australia have all struggled with the weight of public expectation and of keeping their difference hidden. The closeted rugby league player Ian Roberts came close to breakdown more than 20 years ago, before he started bringing his then male partner to football training sessions, as he outlined in Paul Freeman’s 1997 biography, Finding Out. I read his book, and came out to my own mother.
You are now part of a handful of local gay sporting heroes who, In September 2000, the same month a 17-year-old swimming sensation known as Thorpedo was busy dominating the Sydney Olympics, taking three gold and two silver and setting a new 400-metre Olympic record, Roberts told me in an interview that he became Australia’s first out footballer for “selfish” reasons: “It was like, fuck, you people don’t understand, this is not about you people, this is about me being comfortable with myself. I don’t give a fuck any more. Would you just get out of my face?”
accidental role models or not, have demonstrated it is OK to be different. You But it had also dawned on Roberts how important his being out there was to other people as a by-product, if not the cause: “That’s what I’ve been most appreciative of, the fact that I came out about. To let people know, not particularly straight people, let other gay kids know that fuckin’, you know, it’s all sorts. Don’t pocket yourselves. That’s unfortunately what our culture does to a lot of people. They start pocketing themselves, thinking they don’t fuckin’ fit into that style, what they’ve been brought up to think gay is. But it’s a maturity thing, too. It’s almost like everyone learns in a different way.”
came to this careful decision at the age of 31 in a In 2008, The Sydney Morning Herald asked 20-year-old Beijing Olympics hopeful Matthew Mitcham who he lived with, and Mitcham unintentionally outed himself as living with a male partner. Mitcham then went on to achieve the highest-ever Olympic diving score with his back two-and-a-half somersault with two-and-a-half-twists in the pike position. It was only later that Mitcham’s struggle with depression manifested itself in crystal meth use. He has since emerged healthily on the other side, launching a side career in playing music and performing cabaret.
prime-time discussion with British interviewer Michael Parkinson. But Mitcham’s matter-of-fact outing led many to speculate he’d be denied lucrative sponsorship, until Telstra stepped up to the plate. “We don’t know whether that’s because of the global financial crisis or my sexuality,” Mitcham told me in 2009. He found the number of gay kids who wrote to him praising his outing as “humbling” but, refreshingly, “I don’t see sexuality as influencing my beliefs or opinions or perceptions of anybody, whether they’re gay, straight, bi, trans, experimental, I don’t care. I see it as a very uninfluential factor in people.”
No one The ranks of elite Australian gay sportspeople are surely much deeper and broader than their outed numbers would suggest. Swimmer Daniel Kowalski, who won four Olympic medals, accepted his sexuality in 2006 after a “huge anxiety attack”, and outed himself in an essay published in 2010, after his swimming career was over. Two decades after her sprinting career ended, seven-times Commonwealth Games gold medallist Raelene Boyle’s revelation about her sexuality in her autobiography Sometimes Beaten, Never Conquered, written with Garry Linnell, barely raised a ripple in the media.
else should expect the right to out you; your decision to publicly make peace So it is that the weight of expectation on you is so great, Ian, given the voluntary outing of a sporting role model happens only two or three times a decade. I hope you’ll forgive those who tweet or update their Facebook statuses with the inevitable sarcastic “I told you so” and “no surprise there”. If there’s a point of public frustration, it may be that you felt the need to actively deny your sexuality right throughout your 20s. Some people take this denial personally. But your coming out is not about them. This is all about you, and your healing.
with your own truth should be entirely about yourself. I am sorry you were being asked at age 16 if you were gay. That is completely inappropriate. I couldn’t bring myself to use the word about If there’s something about this episode for us all to reflect upon, it is our support for the structures that oppress any person from choosing to be the person they want to be. By that, I’m suggesting conservative business sponsors, who fail to see a person being truthful to themselves as an admirable asset. But I am also pointing the finger at organised religion, and its psychological harms of forcing us to hide and deny.
myself until I was 24, so I understand where you’re coming from. I’ve had Thorpey, in your 2012 autobiography, you wrote about your fears about telling your family of your depression: “I know how Mum will react; she’ll cry and ask me why I didn’t tell her and then she’ll tell me how proud she is that I’ve finally talked about it. Dad is different. I’m not sure how he’ll react. I know it’ll take time for him to come to terms with it and how it fits in with his religious beliefs. I hope it does, because family means a lot to me. He once said that he felt he’d lost me as a son [when Thorpe was 15 and competing on the world stage]. I hope, in my honesty, he’ll feel as though he’s gained me back.”
“faggot” yelled at me in the street, too, and always thought the best way to I didn’t know what you meant then; perhaps, if I think of the deeper isues your depression might signify, I understand it better now.
combat verbal and physical attacks was to be out and proud, and safer in Language is a slippery thing. You also wrote in that autobiography, “For the record, I am not gay and all my sexual experiences have been straight. I'm attracted to women, I love children and aspire to have a family one day … I know what it's like to grow up and be told what your sexuality is, then realising that it’s not the full reality. I was accused of being gay before I knew who I was.”
numbers. But that’s just me. We all come to this decision in our own time. I’m The word “accuse”, which you use often, can connote something bad; it sounds complicit with the language of oppression when applied to someone simply being gay, or someone’s lover. But perhaps in our rush to pigeonhole you, some of us didn’t stop to think that suggestions of homosexuality really did feel like an accusation: tabloid Channel Ten reported immediately on Sunday night in its news service that you had “admitted” to being gay, like a man who had been on a long trial. Gay people throughout the noughties had hoped, and sometimes unfairly expected, you to shoulder our hopes for a world more accepting of diversity.
pleased that your family is supportive, and I guess your mum is just being But these are the words of yours that shall be etched into history: “I’m comfortable saying I’m a gay man and I don’t want young people to feel the same way I did. You can grow up, you can be comfortable, and you can be gay.”
honest when she says she was shocked at the revelation of your sexuality, even Please don’t be ashamed that you didn’t come out earlier. Thank you for being true to yourself, because in the end that’s all that matters. I hope the love of your life is just around the corner. Breathe out, Thorpey.
now.
You can understand, hopefully, why so many wanted to co-opt you as a
role model, and followed you with such intense concern. You have always carried
yourself with such grace, intelligence and charm; who wouldn’t want you on
their team? Even in recent years, when your long, quiet battle with depression outlined
in your 2012 autobiography has weighed so heavily, manifesting in alcohol abuse.
We put our sports heroes on such monolithic plinths in Australia; the worst of
our natures, shamefully, is that we watch voyeuristically, then share sneaky smartphone and paparazzi snaps when the edifice crumbles.
The handful of self-selected, outed elite sports people in Australia
have all struggled with the weight of public expectation and of keeping their
difference hidden. The closeted rugby league player Ian Roberts came close to
breakdown more than 20 years ago, before he started bringing his then male
partner to football training sessions, as he outlined in Paul Freeman’s 1997
biography, Finding Out. I read his book, and came out to my own mother.
In September 2000, the same month a 17-year-old swimming sensation
known as Thorpedo was busy dominating the Sydney Olympics, taking three gold
and two silver and setting a new 400-metre Olympic record, Roberts told me in
an interview that he became Australia’s first out footballer for “selfish”
reasons: “It was like, fuck, you people don’t understand, this is not about you
people, this is about me being comfortable with myself. I don’t give a fuck any
more. Would you just get out of my face?”
But it had also dawned on Roberts how important his being out there
was to other people as a by-product, if not the cause: “That’s what I’ve been
most appreciative of, the fact that I came out about. To let people know, not
particularly straight people, let other gay kids know that fuckin’, you know,
it’s all sorts. Don’t pocket yourselves. That’s unfortunately what our culture
does to a lot of people. They start pocketing themselves, thinking they don’t
fuckin’ fit into that style, what they’ve been brought up to think gay is. But
it’s a maturity thing, too. It’s almost like everyone learns in a different
way.”
In 2008, The Sydney Morning Herald asked 20-year-old Beijing Olympics
hopeful Matthew Mitcham who he lived with, and Mitcham unintentionally outed
himself as living with a male partner. Mitcham then went on to achieve the
highest-ever Olympic diving score with his back two-and-a-half somersault with
two-and-a-half-twists in the pike position. It was only later that Mitcham’s
struggle with depression manifested itself in crystal meth use. He has since
emerged healthily on the other side, launching a side career in playing music
and performing cabaret.
But Mitcham’s matter-of-fact outing led many to speculate he’d be
denied lucrative sponsorship, until Telstra stepped up to the plate. “We don’t know
whether that’s because of the global financial crisis or my sexuality,” Mitcham
told me in 2009. He found the number of gay kids who wrote to him praising his
outing as “humbling” but, refreshingly, “I don’t see sexuality as influencing my beliefs or
opinions or perceptions of anybody, whether they’re gay, straight, bi, trans,
experimental, I don’t care. I see it as a very uninfluential factor in people.”
The ranks of elite Australian gay sportspeople are surely much deeper
and broader than their outed numbers would suggest. Swimmer Daniel Kowalski,
who won four Olympic medals, accepted his sexuality in 2006 after a “huge
anxiety attack”, and outed himself in an essay published in 2010, after his
swimming career was over. Two decades after her sprinting career ended, seven-times
Commonwealth Games gold medallist Raelene Boyle’s revelation about her sexuality in her
autobiography Sometimes Beaten, Never Conquered, written with Garry Linnell,
barely raised a ripple in the media.
So it is that the weight of expectation on you is so great, Ian, given the voluntary outing of a sporting role model happens only two or
three times a decade. I hope you’ll forgive those who tweet or update their
Facebook statuses with the inevitable sarcastic “I told you so” and “no
surprise there”. If there’s a point of public frustration, it may be that you
felt the need to actively deny your sexuality right throughout your 20s. Some
people take this denial personally. But your coming out is not about them. This
is all about you, and your healing.
If there’s something about this episode for us all to reflect upon,
it is our support for the structures that oppress any person from choosing to
be the person they want to be. By that, I’m suggesting conservative business
sponsors, who fail to see a person being truthful to themselves as an admirable
asset. But I am also pointing the finger at organised religion, and its
psychological harms of forcing us to hide and deny.
Thorpey, in your 2012
autobiography, you wrote about your fears about telling your family of your
depression: “I know how Mum will react;
she’ll cry and ask me why I didn’t tell her and then she’ll tell me how proud
she is that I’ve finally talked about it. Dad is different. I’m not sure how
he’ll react. I know it’ll take time for him to come to terms with it and how it
fits in with his religious beliefs. I hope it does, because family means a lot
to me. He once said that he felt he’d lost me as a son [when Thorpe was 15 and
competing on the world stage]. I hope, in my honesty, he’ll feel as though he’s
gained me back.”
I didn’t know what you meant then; perhaps, if I think
of the deeper isues your depression might signify, I understand it better now.
Language is a slippery thing. You also wrote in that
autobiography, “For the record, I am not gay and all my sexual experiences have
been straight. I'm attracted to women, I love children and aspire to have a
family one day … I know what it's like to grow up and be told what your sexuality
is, then realising that it’s not the full reality. I was accused of being gay
before I knew who I was.”
The word “accuse”, which you use often, can connote
something bad; it sounds complicit with the language of oppression when applied
to someone simply being gay, or someone’s lover. But perhaps in our rush to
pigeonhole you, some of us didn’t stop to think that suggestions of
homosexuality really did feel like an accusation: tabloid Channel Ten reported immediately
on Sunday night in its news service that you had “admitted” to being gay, like
a man who had been on a long trial. Gay people throughout the noughties had hoped,
and sometimes unfairly expected, you to shoulder our hopes for a world more
accepting of diversity.
But these are the words of yours that shall be etched
into history: “I’m comfortable saying I’m a gay man and I don’t want young
people to feel the same way I did. You can grow up, you can be comfortable, and
you can be gay.”
Please don’t be ashamed that you didn’t come out earlier. Thank
you for being true to yourself, because in the end that’s all that matters. I
hope the love of your life is just around the corner. Breathe out, Thorpey.
• If you are affected by issues raised in this piece, you can contact Lifeline 13 11 14 and beyond blue 1300 22 4636 in Australia, or the Samaritans in the UK 08457 90 90 90• If you are affected by issues raised in this piece, you can contact Lifeline 13 11 14 and beyond blue 1300 22 4636 in Australia, or the Samaritans in the UK 08457 90 90 90