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The overshadowed LGBT fight for ‘normality’

Upcoming doc examines protests against the American Psychiatric Association

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American Psychiatric Association, John Fryer, gay news, Washington Blade

Barbara Gittings, Frank Kameny and John Fryer, who’s in disguise. (Photo by Kay Tobin Lahusen via Wikimedia Commons)

For decades, the American Psychiatric Association (APA) labeled homosexuality a mental illness, thereby justifying the criminalization of homosexuality and permitting discriminatory practices against gay men and lesbians by government agencies, businesses, schools and churches repulsed by those branded “sick” and “perverted.” 

But homosexuality was also believed to be a deviant behavioral choice that could be “cured” through medical and psychological treatments such as electroshock, chemical castration, ice pick lobotomies or aversion “therapy” akin to the torture in “A Clockwork Orange.” 

Not all mental health professionals thought gay people were degenerates. In 1953, with Republican Sen. Joe McCarthy in his prime demagogically chasing down and destroying communists (the “Red Scare”) and homosexuals (the “Lavender Scare”), Evelyn Hooker, Ph.D., sought funding from the National Institute of Mental Health to research “normal homosexuals,” prompted by her close friendship with a former UCLA student, Sam From. Through him, she gained access to Los Angeles’s secret gay subculture and volunteers from the Mattachine Society. Hooker’s presentation at the APA’s annual convention in 1956 was groundbreaking — there was no scientific data on gay people who were not incarcerated or in mental wards. The result: expert clinicians could not distinguish between gay men and straight men, findings that were soon validated by other researchers.  

But the APA did not remove homosexuality from its Diagnostic and Statistical Manual III until 1973. “Cured,” an in-production documentary directed by award-winning filmmakers Patrick Sammon and Bennett Singer, details the story of how LGBT activists joined forces with other minority groups and allies to take on the psychiatric establishment in the late 1960s and early 1970s to change the manual. 

As befitted the time of upheaval with students protesting the war in Vietnam and civil rights groups morphing into liberation movements, the fights against the APA were not quiet. One of the first demonstrations was staged in San Francisco by 20 members of the Gay Liberation Front and Women’s Liberation Movements. “It put the psychiatrists on notice,” Sammon said, “that gays and lesbians were fighting back. It really was the start of the outside activism that put attention and pressure on this issue.”  

From California, protests spread to other cities, such as Chicago and New York. 

“The interesting thing about this is there was no coordinated strategy, in terms of one person deciding what would happen. It was a grassroots effort,” Sammon says. “That was an important piece of the equation that we discovered during the research process.”

But there were pioneering leaders with vision from Barbara Gittings of the New York chapter of the Daughters of Bilitis; Frank Kameny, co-founder with Jack Nichols of the Washington, D.C. branch of the Mattachine Society; and Morris Kight and Don Kilhefner, co-founders of the Gay Liberation Front/L.A., who disrupted APA conferences by stealing the emcee’s microphones and challenging the participants. In 1972, gay psychiatrist Dr. John Fryer had enough and spoke out, albeit with his face disguised in a mask and voice distorted over the microphone. Nonetheless, “Dr. Henry Anonymous,” as he presented himself, gave such as impactful speech, history has often credited him with getting homosexuality de-listed from the manual in 1973.   

Sammon believes that much of the progress in the struggle for LGBT rights — for social, legal, and political equality — was made possible by this victory in 1973 over the APA. While still largely overlooked in LGBT history, the campaign challenging the APA represents a remarkable story of diligence and courage in the face of powerful institutional resistance. 

Singer also notes that “Cured” looks at how the modern LGBT rights movement continued after Stonewall.

“How did the spark that was ignited at Stonewall and other uprisings around the country get channeled? What was the next stage of activism,” Singer says.

Sammon hopes older LGBT audiences will see an accurate reflection of their lived experiences, of the pain caused by the message from scientific and medical institutions that they were sick. 

“If from the age of 12 or 13,” he told the Los Angeles Blade in a June 19 interview, “everything you read or everything you’re told is that you’re mentally ill, that starts to impact you. That starts to affect your self-esteem. It causes internalized homophobia.” 

In the years since, leading organizations representing scientists and physicians have uniformly denounced treatments intended to change a patient’s sexual orientation or gender identity. More recent progress on this front includes the decision by the World Health Organization to remove gender incongruence from the mental disorders listed in its International Classification of Diseases (ICD), the 11th revision of which was released June 18. 

However, despite this, disproven pseudo-scientific ideas about the mental health of LGBT people are still used to support so-called “conversion” or “reparative therapy,” religious-based counseling and other harmful sexual orientation change efforts (SOCE). 

 The campaign against the label of mental illness chronicled in “Cured” is not “a relic from history,” Singer says. “People are still clinging to this junk science that’s being held up to give LGBTQ people this bogus sense that they can change, that they should change and that homosexuality is a choice.” 

Sammon agrees: “The roots of this mental illness label are ideas that are still parroted by people who believe in conversion therapy,” he says. “Hopefully, this film — while not specifically about that issue (of conversion therapy) — can help illuminate that ongoing discussion, while weakening this argument that LGBT people have chosen to be the way that they are.”

“There’s still a learning curve when it comes to these fundamental issues,” Singer says. “We’re seeing it with the attempt to roll back the Pentagon’s policy on trans service members, with ongoing opposition to marriage, with bathroom bills … many of these positions come from prejudice based on junk science and religious belief.”

“Cured” is a warning that the fight for equality is ongoing, that progress can be ephemeral. It’s also an homage to the activists who sacrificed much but recognized the importance of the fight.

“I hope older audiences, through the film, will receive some appreciation for the work they did to get us to the point where we are now,” Sammon says. “There are so many people who helped in so many ways, and this is a way to honor them.” 

Charles Francis, president of the Mattachine Society of Washington, told the L.A. Blade that they decided to sign on as financial sponsors of “Cured” because the film debunks the myth that the LGBT community has won the battle against those who wish to call them mentally ill. 

“It’s a myth,” Francis says, “because not only was it hell to accomplish this thing (striking homosexuality from the manual), with real community activism, but even today the debate is not over. Our enemies are making the case they we are somehow spiritually or psychologically broken, even now in 2018.” 

At the Mattachine Society, Francis is engaged in historical research about the institutionalization of LGBT people in places like St. Elizabeth’s hospital in Washington, where the APA’s mental illness label and legislation like the District’s Sexual Psychopath Act of 1948, resulted in people being subjected to “treatments” that included icepick lobotomies, hysterectomies, and castration. 

Even today, Francis warns, mythical ideas about LGBT mental illness have lead to young LGBT people being put in harm’s way. Among the most troubling recent examples are reports of young people who have died as a result of abuse incurred at residential programs associated with the billion dollar “troubled teen industry,” a sexual orientation change effort into which youth are sometimes enrolled by their parents. 

“This movie is not just for gay history geeks,” Francis says. “I think all activists, all audiences, all people concerned with the Trump-Pence Administration would do well to see this movie and to see how old school community activism works. Getting out into the streets, into the communities, convincing people, making the arguments…this is an early example of passionate, community-based activism. I think it’s a movie for everybody, especially in these challenging times.” 

After its 1973 decision, the APA came out against discrimination based on sexual orientation in employment (1988) and in the armed forces (1990). Then, in 1998, the organization issued statements that opposed psychiatric treatments that are based on the view of homosexuality as a mental disorder and are administered to “change” the patient’s sexual orientation. 

The mainstream medical establishment is now allied with efforts to protect young LGBT people from conversion therapy, which marks a significant step forward. Interestingly, science and medicine have recently been harnessed to oppose these practices from a different angle. 

A bill spearheaded by Equality California and introduced by out Assembly member Evan Low would include, among the business practices outlawed under California’s Consumer Legal Remedies Act, the sale of therapies that constitute sexual orientation change efforts because research indicates they are ineffective.

“The bill does one thing and one thing only” says Low, in a press release. “It declares conversion therapy (for money) for what is, a fraudulent practice.”

The directors hope to release “Cured” in 2019, the 50th anniversary of the Stonewall Riots.

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Daisy Edgar-Jones knows why ‘the Crawdads sing’

Actress on process, perfecting a southern accent, and her queer following

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Daisy Edgar-Jones as Kya Clark. (Photo courtesy Sony/Columbia)

Daisy Edgar-Jones is an actor whose career is blossoming like her namesake. In recent years, she seems to be everywhere. LGBTQ viewers may recognize Edgar-Jones from her role as Delia Rawson in the recently canceled queer HBO series “Gentleman Jack.” She also played memorable parts in a pair of popular Hulu series, “Normal People” and “Under the Banner of Heaven.” Earlier this year, Edgar-Jones was seen as Noa in the black comedy/horror flick “Fresh” alongside Sebastian Stan. 

With her new movie, “Where the Crawdads Sing” (Sony/Columbia), she officially becomes a lead actress. Based on Delia Owens’ popular book club title of the same name, the movie spans a considerable period of time, part murder mystery, part courtroom drama. She was kind enough to answer a few questions for the Blade.

BLADE: Daisy, had you read Delia Owens’s novel “Where the Crawdads Sing” before signing on to play Kya?

DAISY EDGAR-JONES: I read it during my audition process, as I was auditioning for the part. So, the two went hand in hand.

BLADE: What was it about the character of Kya that appealed to you as an actress?

EDGAR-JONES: There was so much about her that appealed to me. I think the fact that she is a very complicated woman. She’s a mixture of things. She’s gentle and she’s curious. She’s strong and she’s resilient. She felt like a real person. I love real character studies and it felt like a character I haven’t had a chance to delve into. It felt different from anyone I’ve played before. Her resilience was one that I really admired. So, I really wanted to spend some time with her.

BLADE: While Kya is in jail, accused of killing the character Chase, she is visited by a cat in her cell. Are you a cat person or do you prefer dogs?

EDGAR-JONES: I like both! I think I like the fact that dogs unconditionally love you. While a cat’s love can feel a bit conditional. I do think both are very cute. Probably, if I had to choose, it would be dogs.

BLADE: I’m a dog person, so I’m glad you said that.

EDGAR-JONES: [Laughs]

BLADE: Kya lives on the marsh and spends a lot of time on and in the water. Are you a swimmer or do you prefer to be on dry land?

EDGAR-JONES: I like swimming, I do. I grew up swimming a lot. If I’m ever on holidays, I like it to be by the sea or by a nice pool.

BLADE: Kya is also a gifted artist, and it is the thing that brings her great joy. Do you draw or paint?

EDGAR-JONES: I always doodle. I’m an avid doodler. I do love to draw and paint. I loved it at school. I wouldn’t say I was anywhere near as skilled as Kya. But I do love drawing if I get the chance to do it.

BLADE: Kya was born and raised in North Carolina. What can you tell me about your process when it comes to doing a southern accent or an American accent in general?

EDGAR-JONES: It’s obviously quite different from mine. I’ve been lucky that I’ve spent a lot of time working on various accents for different parts for a few years now, so I feel like I’m developed an ear for, I guess, the difference in tone and vowel sounds [laughs]. When it came to this, it was really important to get it right, of course. Kya has a very lyrical, gentle voice, which I think that North Carolina kind of sound really helped me to access. I worked with a brilliant accent coach who helped me out and I just listened and listened.

BLADE: While I was watching “Where the Crawdads Sing” I thought about how Kya could easily be a character from the LGBTQ community because she is considered an outsider, is shunned and ridiculed, and experiences physical and emotional harm. Do you also see the parallels?

EDGAR-JONES: I certainly do. I think that aspect of being an outsider is there, and this film does a really good job of showing how important it is to be kind to everyone. I think this film celebrates the goodness you can give to each other if you choose to be kind. Yes, I definitely see the parallels.

BLADE: Do you have an awareness of an LGBTQ following for your acting career?

EDGAR-JONES: I tend to stay off social media and am honestly not really aware of who follows me, but I do really hope the projects I’ve worked on resonate with everyone.

BLADE: Are there any upcoming acting projects that you’d like to mention?

EDGAR-JONES: None that I can talk of quite yet. But there are a few things that are coming up next year, so I’m really excited.

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CAMP Rehoboth’s president talks pandemic, planning, and the future

Wesley Combs marks six months in new role

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Wesley Combs took over as president of CAMP Rehoboth six months ago and is now focused on searching for a new permanent executive director. (Blade photo by Daniel Truitt)

June marks half a year since Wesley Combs stepped into his role as president of CAMP Rehoboth. In a conversation with the Blade, Combs recounted his first six months in the position — a time he said was characterized by transition and learning.

Since 1991, CAMP Rehoboth has worked to develop programming “inclusive of all sexual orientations and gender identities” in the Rehoboth Beach, Del. area, according to the nonprofit’s website. As president, Combs oversees the organization’s board of directors and executive director, helping determine areas of focus and ensure programming meets community needs.

For Combs, his more than three decades of involvement with CAMP Rehoboth have shaped the course of his life. In the summer of 1989 — just before the organization’s creation — he met his now-husband, who was then living in a beach house with Steve Elkins and Murray Archibald, CAMP Rehoboth’s founders.

Since then, he has served as a financial supporter of the organization, noting that it has been crucial to fostering understanding that works against an “undercurrent of anti-LGBTQ sentiment” in Rehoboth Beach’s history that has, at times, propagated violence against LGBTQ community members.

In 2019, after Elkins passed away, Combs was called upon by CAMP Rehoboth’s Board of Directors to serve on a search committee for the organization’s next executive director. Later that year, he was invited to become a board member and, this past November, was elected president.

Combs noted that CAMP Rehoboth is also still recovering from the pandemic, and is working to restart programming paused in the switch to remote operations. In his first six months, he has sought to ensure that people feel “comfortable” visiting and engaging with CAMP Rehoboth again, and wants to ensure all community members can access its programming, including those from rural parts of Delaware and those without a means of getting downtown.

Still, Combs’s first six months were not without unexpected turns: On May 31, David Mariner stepped down from his role as CAMP Rehoboth executive director, necessitating a search for his replacement. Combs noted that he would help facilitate the search for an interim director to serve for the remainder of the year and ensure that there is “a stable transition of power.” CAMP Rehoboth last week announced it has named Lisa Evans to the interim director role.

Chris Beagle, whose term as president of CAMP Rehoboth preceded Combs’s own, noted that the experience of participating in a search committee with the organization will “better enable him to lead the process this time.”

Before completing his term, Beagle helped prepare Combs for the new role, noting that the “combination of his professional background, his executive leadership (and) his passion for the organization” make Combs a strong president. Regarding the results of the election, “I was extremely confident, and I remain extremely confident,” Beagle said.

Bob Witeck, a pioneer in LGBTQ marketing and communications, has known Combs for nearly four decades. The two founded a public relations firm together in 1993 and went on to work together for 20 years, with clients ranging from major businesses like Ford Motor Company to celebrities including Chaz Bono and Christopher Reeve. According to Witeck, Combs’s work in the firm is a testament to his commitment to LGBTQ advocacy.

“Our firm was the first founded primarily to work on issues specific to LGBTQ identities, because we wanted to counsel corporations about their marketing and media strategies and working in the LGBTQ market,” he explained. By helping develop communications strategies inclusive of those with LGBTQ identities, Combs established a background of LGBTQ advocacy that truly “made a mark,” Witeck said.

Witeck emphasized that, in his new position, Combs brings both business experience and a renewed focus on historically underrepresented in LGBTQ advocacy — including people with disabilities, trans people and people of color.

Looking to the rest of the year, CAMP Rehoboth hopes to host a larger-scale event during Labor Day weekend. In addition, the organization will revisit its strategic plan — first developed in 2019 but delayed due to the pandemic — and ensure it still meets the needs of the local community, Combs said. He added that he intends to reexamine the plan and other programming to ensure inclusivity for trans community members.

“CAMP Rehoboth continues to be a vital resource in the community,” he said. “The focus for the next two years is to make sure we’re doing and delivering services that meet the needs of everyone in our community.”

Wesley Combs, gay news, Washington Blade
Wesley Combs (Washington Blade photo by Daniel Truitt)
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Melissa Etheridge shares Q&A in advance of April 26 Tysons tour stop

Rock pioneer finds inspiration in the past — from revisiting old demos to reconnecting with celeb pals like Ellen

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Melissa Etheridge brings her ‘One Way Out Tour’ to the D.C. region next week with a show at the new Capital One Hall in Tysons. (Photo by Elizabeth Miranda; courtesy Primary Wave)

Melissa Etheridge
‘One Way Out Tour’
Tuesday, April 26
Capital One Hall
7750 Capital One Tower Rd.
Tysons, VA
7:30 p.m.
Tickets: $55
ticketmaster.com
capitalonehall.com
melissaetheridge.com

We caught up with rock legend Melissa Etheridge on April 8 by phone from Snoqualmie, Wash. — it’s about 26 miles east of Seattle —where she was playing the Snoqualmie Casino on her “One Way Out Tour,” which plays our region on Tuesday, April 26. 

It’s named after her latest album, released last fall, which found Etheridge, who’s been out since ’93, revisiting demos from early in her career.

Her comments have been slightly edited for length.

WASHINGTON BLADE: “One Way Out” sounds like such a cool project. Was it all re-recorded stuff of old songs or were some of those vintage takes on the record as well?

MELISSA ETHERIDGE: The last two songs, the live songs, were from where? From 2002? OK, but the other songs were newly recorded. 

BLADE: And how many of them did you remember?

ETHERIDGE: You know, when I found them again, they all came back very clearly. And I was like, “Oh, this is — why did I throw that away? That’s weird.” And I really enjoyed, you know, hearing them, they were just old demos. I’d never done full-blown recordings. So I thought, “This is great, I want to do these songs.”

BLADE: We have a relatively new venue you’re going to be playing, Capital One Hall. I’ve only been there once. You excited?

ETHERIDGE: Yeah, it’s always fun. I love the D.C.-area crowd. It’s just really, really nice.

BLADE: And how do you decide where you’ll be? Or do you have any say in it? 

ETHERIDGE: Well, it’s not necessarily me. I do have a say in it, in what I want the whole tour to look like. But it is really up to William Morris, my agent, to find the right venue that understands what we need and the kind of atmosphere we’re looking for that and the amount of people and, you know, that sort of thing.

BLADE: Tell me about Etheridge TV. I just wonder, when we were in that acute phase of the pandemic, wasn’t it even remotely tempting to you to just take a break?

ETHERIDGE: No, because since I was 12 years old, I sang all the time for people, like five days a week and it’s just been what I do. And so when it was like, I was looking at a massive, cavernous amount of time that I was going to be home, I still needed a way to pay the bills, so we put our heads together — I’ve got one of the greatest television minds with me, you know, my wife (TV producer Linda Wallem), so I had the space and I had the equipment, and I was like, “Let’s do it.” And it was really fun to learn new things. It was fun to learn about computers and sound and streaming and lights and cameras and all these things that I didn’t know. … I feel a little smarter.

BLADE: When did you start back on the road?

ETHERIDGE: We went out last fall. We went out September, October, right around there. And you know, it was a little different, Now things are things are loosening up … but some places still require masks. But people are starting to get back out and it feels good. It’s not the overwhelming thing that it was a few months ago.

BLADE: And what was it like being on ‘Ellen’ again for her final season?

ETHERIDGE: Oh, I love her. She’s such an old friend. You know, I say that about myself, too. (chuckles) But, you know, she’s just a relationship in my life that I have treasured. We’ve watched each other grow and the changes we’ve made and the successes and what we’ve gone through and I love that she had me on and just it was just a really — she’s a dear friend. And she showed an old photo there, and we both said, “Oh, that was before we were so busy.”

BLADE: Do you talk to her often?

ETHERIDGE: I would say we see each other socially once or twice a year. It just seemed like once we started having children, all my friends from my 20s and 30s when we were not as busy — it just gets harder to stay in touch and life got crazy. 

BLADE: So when you were hanging out back in the day with Ellen and Rosie and everybody, how was it that Brad Pitt was in that group too? 

ETHERIDGE: Well, my girlfriend (Julie Cypher) had been married to Lou Diamond Phillips and we were all very good friends with Dermot Mulroney and Catherine Keener and Catherine Keener did a movie with Brad, like a movie nobody saw, like Johnny Dangerously or something (1991’s “Johnny Suede”), some really weird movie. So I met Brad before he was terribly famous. He was a part of that group. There was a whole group of all of us that just hung out, and we were all totally different. We were just like young, hungry Hollywood and we’d talk about, “Oh, I had this audition,” or “I went and did this,” and we were just all trying to make it in that town. So we’d get together and have fun. 

BLADE: I was so terribly sorry to hear about Beckett (Etheridge’s son, who died in 2020 at age 21 after struggling with opioid addiction). How are you and the rest of the family, especially (Beckett’s twin) Bailey, dealing with it now?

ETHERIDGE: There are many, many families like us that deal with a loss like that. It just blows a family sideways. But we have a deep love and connection, all of us. We all knew he had a problem and it’s a problem that starts way before he actually passes, so it was not a surprise. So now we’re just living with the missing aspect. You try not to think about what could have been and you try to think about him in a happier place and that he’s out of pain, so that helps us.

BLADE: Had he and Bailey been as close in recent years?

ETHERIDGE: They were very close, but in the last couple of years as he made worse and worse choices, we couldn’t support that, so they were less close, but of course in her heart, it was her brother, he was very dear to her. 

BLADE: Did you watch the Grammys?  Was there anybody you were particularly rooting for?

ETHERIDGE: I watched bits and pieces of it. I had a show that night, so I didn’t get to see the main thing, but I have seen pieces and I just love the crazy diversity and you know, the TikTok people winning stuff, it’s like, “Wow, this is so not the Grammys I remember from the ’80s,” but that was what, 30 years ago? So it’s all good.

BLADE: You were such a perennial favorite back in the day in the best rock female category. Were you pissed when they eliminated it? 

ETHERIDGE: It’s sad because I felt like the criteria they were using to judge what is female rock, they just really dropped the ball. I still think there are some amazing musicians that could be considered, you know, rock, but it feels like we’re having a hard time even defining what rock and roll is now anyway. There’s a whole bunch of strong women out there playing, rocking, you know, playing guitar, being excellent musicians and songwriters. If you can’t call it best rock female, OK, call it something else. 

BLADE: I remember so vividly when you were on the Grammys in 2005, in the midst of chemo, when you sang “Piece of My Heart.” I remember you saying you were wondering how people would react to seeing you bald. Having been through that, any thoughts on the Will/Jada Oscars situation since her baldness, too, was due to a medical condition? 

ETHERIDGE: You know, it’s funny, I did feel a little remembrance of (thinking), “I just hope people don’t make fun of me.” That was kind of the first thing because to go out there bald, that was so different for me as an artist whose hair had kind of defined her. I was thinking, “How am I gonna rock without my hair?” I thought people might make fun of me, but I got over that. I just thought, “Well, if somebody makes fun of me, that just makes them look bad.” So I just walked through it. And you know, it’s hard to draw the line between what’s funny and what’s painful and how to look at something. I feel for all parties involved. 

BLADE: When you go on these cruises, do fans give you some space or do they swarm around the minute you walk out? Is it even enjoyable for you? 

ETHERIDGE: Yeah, it is. You know, we did our last one, now we’re doing Etheridge Island, we now have a destination in Mexico, outside of Cancun, it’s just this island that we’re going to that is really fantastic. But I do I make myself available, I don’t run away. When I have to be somewhere, I have a great company we work with called Sixthman that knows how to get me from point A to point B without being bogged down. But I do my make myself available. Everyone gets a picture with me. It’s my work, but I love it. I try to make myself available but also have some time just for myself too.

Melissa Etheridge says slowing down wasn’t an option for her when the pandemic hit. She’s glad to be back on the road now, she says. (Photo by Elizabeth Miranda; courtesy Primary Wave)

BLADE: You Tweeted a few nights ago about having a tight curfew of just 90 minutes at a casino but then it worked out and you got to do a full set. Why are the curfews so tight at casinos?  

ETHERIDGE: Why do you think? They want people at the tables. Like for tonight, we we settled on 100 minutes. They’re giving me 10 extra minutes. I don’t like it, but in some areas, the only really good venue is a casino, so if you want to reach your folks there, you kind of have to meet them half way. 

BLADE: Yeah, but it seems like in concert halls, the curfews can sometimes be really tight too. Even Madonna got her lights shut off a couple years ago. Of course, she’s notoriously late, but why are they so strict with these things nowadays? 

ETHERIDGE: There are all different situations — concert halls often have union crews that will absolutely shut you down if you go one second over. There are also sound curfews, noise curfews, mostly with outdoor venues, but sometimes indoor as well. They have an agreement with the neighborhood. So you have people in the neighborhood standing by with their phones ready to pounce the minute it goes over one minute, they’re gonna call the police. As a performer, you just realize, “OK, it’s not just about me.” When I don’t have a curfew, I usually land at about two hours and some change. That seems comfortable to everyone. Any longer and I think I’m wearing my audience out. When I’m at a place with a shorter show, I just do my best. 

BLADE: I know you’re a big Chiefs fan. Did you watch that game back in January all the way to the end? 

ETHERIDGE: Well, at the end of it, I was on the floor. My wife was like, “Honey, honey, there’s still 13 seconds,” and I was moaning and sort of getting my feet on the floor and, you know, laying down and throwing a fit. And she’s like, “No, there’s still 13 seconds.” I dragged myself back to the television. And I couldn’t believe it. I was like, “Wait a minute. Did we just win?” You know, just really crazy, really crazy stuff. … When you’re a fan like that, it’s a ride you can’t fully explain.

BLADE: Are you in a cordial or good place with your exes? Does it get easier when the kids are starting to grow up?

ETHERIDGE: Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah. And you realize that it’s best for the kids if you can really get along and that any sort of conflict that can’t get resolved, that gets emotional, does no good for anyone. And absolutely, I have, I’ve gotten better at that as the years have gone by.

BLADE: Do you have the slightest inkling yet what the next studio album might be like?

ETHERIDGE: Well, I’ve got some interesting projects that I’m not ready to talk about just yet. But they have to do with my life story. There’s a lot of digging up of my past and really telling the story. So I imagine the next series of music you’ll get from me is going to be very focused on my journey. 

Melissa Etheridge, gay news, Washington Blade
Melissa Etheridge (Photo by Elizabeth Miranda; courtesy Primary Wave)
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