By Eric Bartels
Portland Tribune
October 30, 2008

Howie sits at his computer late at night, a skinny high school kid in his underwear, a lolli-pop jammed in his mouth. He’s in a gay chat room, tapping out playful rejoinders to some man, somewhere, who’s twice his age.

It’s not an easy thing to watch, and there are plenty of rigid postures and tense masks around me at Artists Repertory Theatre, where playwright Stephen Karam’s comedy, “Speech & Debate,” opened recently.

The good news is that in the next 100 minutes or so, the audience will come to appreciate Howie. Maybe even love the kid. We cheer when he finds the sense of belonging he so desperately seeks in the company of two other misfits at school, the musical theater diva Diwata and a brainy would-be journalist named Solomon.

The young actors who portray the three characters are splendidly good and Karam, who chose North Salem High as the setting because he spent time in Oregon, captures the language and attitude of teenagers with perfect pitch.

The play is hilarious, but it obviously has issues, too.

“It is very funny, but mostly I was struck by its poignancy and its deep well of loneliness and sadness,” says director Jon Kretzu, who was lucky to get a ticket to the popular play in New York and fought for permission to bring it back to Portland.

Kretzu is right. While it may be challenging to look at a theatrical depiction of gay high schoolers, the reality behind it is even tougher: Some people are gay, and they have to get through the rigors of growing up as well.

Kretzu and others acknowledge that there are resources available to sexual minority kids that didn’t exist a generation ago. But gay-straight student alliances and same-sex proms don’t mean that kids are out of the woods when they come out of the closet.

“It’s good that it’s more acceptable, but these kids still get beat up, and they get ostracized,” he says. “We used to have this thing where kids were so closeted. Now, if they do come out, they’re still lost. They’re dealing with these highly adult issues at a time when they’re just not emotionally mature.

“What this play bitterly shows is that coming out doesn’t mean that you’re going to have all these friends. It doesn’t sugarcoat that.”

Dr. Trish Lichau Shields, a professor of education at Concordia University, a private Lutheran school in Northeast Portland, says the issue is about acceptance.

“While schools have attempted to address this issue, these children do remain underrepresented, and there is bullying going on,” says Lichau Shields, a veteran classroom teacher and administrator. “We still, as a society, do not want to talk about this. How do we care for all constituents, even those people who make us uncomfortable?”

I figure that since most people support the notion that all human beings are part of the same, natural family, the ability to marginalize sexual minorities depends on viewing them as having made an unnatural choice.

But how many of us remember choosing to be straight? And if we can’t, then why would we assume anyone would choose to be gay?

“This is not a choice kids have made,” Lichau Shields says “That’s who they are. If I were told it was wrong to love a man and I had to love a woman instead, that would be antithetical to who I am.

“Is living normal? Because if it is, everybody who is living, their behavior is normal for them.”

Lichau Shields has seen the dark side, one in which sexual identity issues contribute to a suicide rate among young people that has tripled since 1960, according to the nonprofit Mental Health America.

“Kids today still cloak and hide because of potential rejection by their families,” she says. “I’ve seen kids that were profoundly depressed.”

Happily, Lichau Shields has watched gay teens prosper with the help of supportive parents.

“I see it becoming more manageable for these children and becoming less dangerous,” she says. “For Christians, the ultimate commandment is love your neighbor as yourself. That’s what we need to talk about. Let’s get our hearts out. Jesus was the greatest promoter of social justice and that’s exactly what this is about.”

As a parent, the need to share my thoughts on a gay-themed issue came early. When my daughter was in kindergarten, one of her classmates had two moms, something she asked me about at one point.

The answer seemed simple. Most families have a dad and a mom, I told her, but sometimes there are two moms, or maybe two dads. Was there anything more I needed to say to a 7-year-old? She was perfectly happy with the explanation.

I’ve also pondered what it would mean to have a gay child, and I must say, it doesn’t trouble me much.

In a recurring daydream, I’m sitting in the bleachers at a high school baseball game 10 years from now. I beam as my gracefully athletic son tracks down a fly ball or confidently steps into the batters’ box, challenging a pitcher to throw his best stuff.

But I can’t be sure my son will even like baseball at that point, just as I can’t be sure he’ll want to date girls or have a family. Still, I can’t imagine loving him less if he doesn’t.

In fact, I can’t imagine loving him less, period.