Interview with Mary: My experience with Gay Lesbian Bisexual Transgender "Quire"|

by Chinatsu Sazawa

Waiting for Mary
Maybe she isn't coming. I check my watch-- it's 9:35 PM. I am at a cafe in downtown Iowa City that is packed with students studying, reading, and chatting with friends. Mary is the director of the "Quire," Eastern Iowa's Gay Lesbian Bisexual and Transgender (GLBT) Chorus, whichI have been observing for my research. She was supposed to show up twenty minutes ago. The quire had a mini-concert for the university, but it was scheduled to end by 7:30. She might have forgotten and gone home, I tell myself. I knew I was not warmly welcomed by her or the other quire members. Just a week ago, I had waited alone at the church where the quire was supposed to have practice. They had changed the schedule, but I hadn't received any information about the change.

"I wouldn't feel comfortable to be observed." She explained her discomfort when I asked for permission to write about the quire. She allowed me to take part in the quire and conduct research, but it was clear that she wasn't totally positive about it. "I would say, you can come to the practice, but we wouldn't embrace you as a member. I don't disrespect you or anything, but you know..."

At practices, Mary would say hello back to me when I greeted her. I usually smiled at her, and she "smiled" back raising the corners of her lips just a little bit. Like most of the other members, she never spoke to me unless I spoke to her first. I was surprised that she agreed to do the interview though I asked several times before she said yes.

I knew it! She isn't coming. I am about to give up, then, the door opens. Dark blonde short hair, very very short, black jacket, a red ribbon on its collar, black sweater, and black pants, Mary shows up. Dressed up for the concert, she looks different from when I see her in the quire practices: flannel shirt, blue jeans, and Birken stock.

"Hey-- you're here. I'm sorry I am late. I was talking to the members forever." She catches her breath. She DID remember! With a relieved feeling mixed with surprise, I offer to buy her a drink. With organic ole for her and spiced milk for myself in our hands, we sit in the sofa facing diagonally over a coffee table. "Thank you for letting me interview you." I thank her. "Sure," she "smiles" lifting the corners of her lips just a little bit.

Talking about the "Quire"
"I'm one of the 15 singers who founded the quire, in 1995-- it's a clever title-- someone thought of the words queer and choir and put them together." She starts talking about the history of the quire. The quire was first formed for the annual Iowa City Area Pride Month Talent Show at the University of Iowa. They were just "giving a shot," but it turned out to be "a big hit." Since then, they have grown to a choir of more than thirty members and have been performing at many public concerts. In 1997, the quire joined the international organization, Gay And Lesbian Associated (GALA) Choruses.

Mary became a leader when the first director left the quire in 1998 for a new job at a church in California. She was "obvious choice" as the new director, because she had "lots of music training" and already had some leadership roles in the quire. Mary has a Ph.D. degree in organ from the University of Iowa, and was leading the quire musically from the beginning.

Mary explains the mission statements of the quire as promoting singing and good choral music. She also emphasizes the importance of "being visible to the community." The quire represents a "lot of people who don't have a voice," or who are inhibited because of "personal circumstances." Mary believes that the quire's public presence can make a difference in the members' and other peoples' lives.

As representatives of the GLBT community, the quire sings "songs specifically for gays and lesbians." Mary points out the "heterosexualism" of music markets, surrounding our daily lives.

When you have quire concerts, . . . it's really great to have the quire sing pieces that speak to your experiences. Because everyday you get in your car or you listen to the radio, and just songs you hear, most of them are going to be talking about hetero- relationships. So with all emerges that we encounter everyday, this is one time when we have the island out and go out and say, "Oh, boy its' really comfortable here."

Listening to Mary, some of the lyrics pop in mind:

"Sometimes people leave you half way through the wood. . . "
"You decide what's good. . . "
"Do you feel you've lost your way? you are not alone. No one is alone. . . "
" The joys and the sorrow we share the same.. . "
"When separate hearts become one, a new understanding of love comes alive. . ."

While singing these songs with the members, I didn't hear the "specific messages for Gay and Lesbian chorus." Mary continues, "Whether people will recognize it or not, you know, some of them will, some of them won't." Embarrassingly, I'm one of those who "won't." Looking at Mary's' face as she's telling me about the messages behind the lyrics, I reflect on myself. The meaning of the quire's public performance is a lot more serious than I had thought.

The Comfort Zone:
A Fish Jumping into the Water
Mary uses the word "island," and it brings me the image of a Caribbean coast where everyone is on vacation, relaxing and leaving their daily business and tough realities behind. "Then, is quire like a vacation?" When I mention this analogy, Mary clarifies the functions and the significance of being in the quire.

"If I can try to relate it to what your experience might be, I don't know how long you have lived in the States." She looks at me. Mary studied in Germany for a year after she graduated a college. She compares her study abroad experience to the lives of GLBT people in this country.

I lived in Germany for one year. . . and I think that is very true that there is this comfort level in being in the culture you know, and you are familiar with, and you are first in the culture that you don't know you have to work really hard and makes you tired just being there. Because you have to expend so much energy learning the language and understanding what people are saying and evaluating all of the non-verbal cues we get from people every day. They are different from the ones you grew up with. And while gay and lesbian people grow up with the experience with for the most part their surroundings are similar and there you know, they are used to the culture they grope in. But there is always a part of them that they know is different from the others or that they just don't quite belong, they are not quite like everybody else. . . When I was in Germany and I came back to the States for a visit, and suddenly it's like 'Oh yeah, I know how this works.' And it's that kind of feeling.

"I know what you mean," I say, nodding and recalling when I first went back to Japan after living in the States for a year. Everything seemed to be easy; ordering food, riding the trains, making a phone call, everything seemed to be ridiculously easy and natural. I knew I didn't stand out as odd and I felt so relieved that I could speak like others with no accent.

"Once gay and lesbian people have the experience, of being completely surrounded by people just like them. It's like a fish jumping in the water and saying 'Hey I can move! this is what I'm supposed to be. I'm really happy here.' It is so easy." Mary's analysis, "fish in the water" is in accordance with Phelan's term, "breathing room" (1994). According to Felon, lesbian communities, such as a lesbian book club, functions as a comfortable zone where community members can separate themselves from the hostility towards their sexuality, and it provides some guard from the adversity of the homophobic society. Aronson (1996) also refers to her lesbian mother's group as a "temporary haven."

During the quire practice, I occasionally saw members enjoying this comfort zone. At one rehearsal, one of the members, Michael whispered something to Carl sitting next to him. Stopping singing, Carl giggled. The members around Michael and Carl looked back at them and asked what it was about. In the manner of a telephone game, one member whispered to another and the wave of giggles spread like a ripple. "What ?" Mary stopped the music. Carl explained his joke and everybody laughed. "OK guys, let's start from bar 25," still giggling, Mary started playing the piano. Carl and Michael looked at each other and smiled. Michael put his head on Carl's shoulder while Carl put his arm around Michael's shoulder. They continued singing, Carl's arms still around Michael and Michael's head still on Carl's shoulder.

Once an assistant advisor of the students affirmative action told me about the dangers gay couples in public face. "Violence happens frequently to gay men. If I was a gay man in town, I'm not sure if I would walk down the street holding my lover's hand." And it is true that open displays of affection among gay and lesbian couples are rarely seen even in this, according to Mary, "very, very accepting" place, Iowa City. The quire practice definitely is one of the few "public" comfort zones where they can breathe as they are.

Members Only:
"Everybody Here is Like Me!"
"The best part about being involved in this group, it's a combination of the unity of the people and commonality of why we are there . . ." Mary emphasizes the importance of "sense of community." Schaps (1996) defines the sense of community as a feeling of being connected to, valued by, and having influence over other community members.

Music, I believe, is a great tool to strengthen this sort of group mentality. I used to play the double bass in a junior high school brass band. When my single base sound joined to create a harmony accompanied by various sounds with different tones and different rhythms, excitement washed over me with goose bumps. After satisfying performances, I always felt a great admiration and closeness towards the members regardless how close or how distant we were outside of the band.

A similar feeling came back to me once when I joined a quire rehearsal. At that time, the quire was struggling with a "pick up" note, a note after several counts of break. The quire didn't have a conductor (Mary plays the Piano) and it was difficult for us to pick up the note at the right moment in the middle of a bar. "Count four and make sure every one goes together. Speak up for your part!" With Mary's instruction, we tried a few times. On the fourth or fifth try, we finally made it. I still vividly remember the moment.

"OK, one more time." The sound of Mary's piano filled the room. Everyone stared at Mary playing the piano. Some of members bobbed their heads counting. One, Two, Three, singers inhaled preparing for the up-coming notes. "Hand in hand?" The firm sound came out from everywhere in the room. No one was late, no one was too early. "That's it" Mary nodded. I felt goof bumps washing over my arms.

This was one of the few times I actually felt I belonged, at least partially to the group. However, I soon learn that just singing together isn't enough to share their "sense of community." Mary emphasizes the joy of being only with GLBT members.

. . . I think that is a very powerful experience for GLBT people to be in a setting where . . . everybody there is like-minded. Well, you did know that it is an incredible comfort level saying 'Hey everybody here is like me and for the most part, they think like me, they have the same ideas, and they accept me completely who I am.

The last really big event that many of the quire members were a part of was the march in Washington 1993. It was really a fabulous experience. It was one of those times when everywhere you went, everybody was like you. You know, two million queer people in Washington DC and every time you got on a subway, or a train, you can just look around and you can pick out anyone who is part of your community.

One social group for lesbian couples, also insisted on the importance of members-only policy when I asked a permission to go to their meetings. They told me that the meetings were "only for the members" who share the same philosophy and experiences.

Their comments such as "everybody was like me" and everybody " thinks like me" and the "same philosophy" intrigue me. Eliason (1996) maintains that GLBT people don't necessarily share common goals and philosophy. "Unfortunately. . . [they] differ on every other human dimension except for their self-imposed sexual identity" (p.45). Is "members only" really so great? A question arises.

Once, my colleagues, all Japanese language TAs, excluded an American TA, Laura from a private party. One TA told me that they decided to have the party with only "insiders" because "we share things" that Americans didn't. They also said that they wouldn't be able to relax if there was anyone who hasn't experienced the "Japanese stuff." Ironically, at that time I felt I shared a lot more with Laura, who was a friend of mine, than the rest of the Japanese T A s.

The quire pamphlet states that its membership is open to anyone who is gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and "anyone who is respectful and affirming" of these communities. As it says, the quire chose to include me in their community. However, there seems that more is necessary than to respect and affirm their community in order to share their "sense of community."

When I asked Mary how she felt about me participating in their practices, she expressed her complicated reactions. "Part of me says I wish she weren't here" because what I sought was different from the things the people singing in the group would get. "Other parts says that I don't care she's here . . . and another bigger part says 'hey, if she wants to be here she can be here.'"

Chatting with Mary
I check my watch: 10:30 PM. Whoops! I apologize to Mary. I promised her that the interview would finish within thirty minutes. Contrary to my expectations, Mary doesn't stand up or get ready to leave. "Do you have any questions?" I ask. As Mary requests, I explain what I have found through my research. "A book called Queer Japan says that Japanese people don't see homosexuality as a sin, because Japanese as a whole is not a Christian country. . ." When I am telling her about the Japanese people's attitudes, Mary jumps in. "I think one of the things that is really important, in this county, is that people most of the time have to deal with the religious aspect." I stop talking and look at her face. After a few seconds' pause, Mary starts talking. "I am a person who is actually originally from the state of Iowa." Then, her life story starts.

Mary's Story
Coming out

Coming out means identifying yourself as gay, lesbian, or bisexual. Once they've come out, most people have to admit: it feels much better to be open and honest than to lie and hide.

Resource Guide to Coming Out

Mary first tells me about her first partner who pushed her to come out. She starts her talk pausing between words and sentences.

I am a person who is actually originally from the state of Iowa. I grew up in North West Iowa. I grew up in a very religious environment. Very rich Christian upbringing. And I had a very very difficult time. And I lived a closeted life, even when I was partnered. When I had a lover. And I did it for years. And we were involved sexually for years before we actually came out. We were involved with one another. But we were still not willing to put the name on ourselves and say 'this is who we are.'

And it was actually the year that I was in Germany after I finished my MA degree. When I was gone for a year and my lover was still here and we realized that we missed each other so much that we really had to find a way to be together. And that was really the thing that pushed us out of the closet, so to speak, to say 'O.K. look! This is how it is. We are lesbian and we love one another.' And what really makes the commitment is to decide not to just let things happen to us . . . this is what we are gonna do. Um, and we were together for seventeen years.

Her coming out experience relieved her from the guilt and stress. Her piano playing become more dynamic, and she felt more confident in herself. She tells this positive part of her coming out story with fewer pauses and no breaks.

It changed life a great deal. There was a personal aspect that was enormously better. This self-acceptance aspect to say, 'this is who I am. I can be relaxed with it.' I would say that professionally, too. I went back to graduate school when I came back to Iowa City, and I started working on my doctorate . . . My ability to express myself musically changed because I had gotten over the nervousness and uptight feeling that I was not wanting to reveal my whole self . . . and having been through whole years of evaluating who I was, what I was about, and why we do this anyway make you equate everything to living in another culture . . . But I think that being able to totally myself, regardless of how all the people I encounter on a daily basis were, regardless of how well or how poorly my own family was, and that I accepted me made an enormous difference. Suddenly I could say, you know, just stand on my own two feet not being insecure about who I was and . . . just to say, "OK, here it is, this is me. take it or leave it," and the power behind that was really remarkable.

Family

[M]ost lesbian, gay, and bisexual people are raised by heterosexual parents, and risk rejection when they come out. Even loving, supportive parents and other family members may experience shock and feeling of grief and loss when a family member comes out.

Elision, 1996, p.44.

"So would you say your coming out experience was all positive?" I ask.

"Yeah . . ." she pauses. Then, "Yeah, of course, there were certainly difficult aspects of it, you know."

Like many other coming out stories, her episode has a negative side: her family's reaction.

You know, I still don't have great relationship with most of my family members because they are all so closely tied to the Christian church. My parents, I know that they loved me but they don't approve of me so that makes me not always feel like I want to be with them. I'm not gonna go out of my way to often go and visit them in that really closed culture. . . They are painful experiences for me knowing that I'm not really welcomed there . . . Truthfully, even after I finish my doctorate, I had made plans with the brother who lives in my hometown where I grew up. I made plans with him for a whole year working on a project to rebuild a pipe organ and the church where I grew up, my whole life I spent going to that church that I was baptized there. And I played the organ there for years and years. And I was supposed to go back and play in the organ recital, and my brother called me and basically uninvited me to play at the organ recital. He had to call me and tell me that I wasn't welcome to play at the recital that they had asked someone else to play at the recital.

And the reason that he gave me was that some people were saying that it would be inappropriate--that it would be a bad thing for me to play the recital at that church because of my lifestyle. And I immediately guessed that the person who was complaining, who really pushed it to make it not to happen was my aunt that was my dad's sister. . . They don't have anybody around there who has doctorate in organ. But I was not welcome to play and so I didn't care to be there. . .

It's just, it's like somebody pushing me outside the door and closing it and saying, you know, we are in here and we care about you, but you are gonna have to stay outside. And now in my life, I 'm proud enough to say I'm not gonna go there stand outside of the door. I just won't. If I have to stand outside then I'm gonna stay here. And I'm gonna spend my time being with people who love me for who I am.


Career

Lesbian, gay, and bisexual people risk loss of jobs...if they come out. Many college students face the agonizing choice of going back into the closet for employment purposes after the relative freedom of college.

Elision, 1996, p.151.

At the beginning of the interview, she told me she has a Ph.D. in music. I get to know the reasons she didn't choose teaching careers: it is not because she minds desk work or because her current job as an assistant administrator "pays well," as she explained.

. . . my undergraduate college which is just 18 miles 20 miles from where I grew up is just a small liberal arts college. It's also a Christian college . . .connected to the church where I grew up. I was very much appreciated as an outstanding student and a member of the music department. . . but now I'm not welcomed. Now I know that they have positions in their music department for the next year that I'm qualified for. But I won't apply. because I know that people who are looking at those applications will look at them and say 'oh you can't have her' . . .but if I had to choose, I would choose where I am. I wouldn't chose to be in a closet so that I could live in a bigoted small town. I wouldn't choose to be closeted so that I could have the job where I wasn't accepted, you know.

She stops talking and sips hercoffee. "So now, tell me about yourself," she asks. I tell her about my family, my childhood, and my life in the United States. Afterwards, We chat about music and favorite composers until the cafe workers start closing the place.

"See you at the concert!" Mary smiles at me, lifting the corners of her mouth just a little bit. Getting in my car parked in front of the cafe, I check the clock on my dashboard. 11:30 PM. Two hours! Physically exhausted, I feel like a cloud has lifted and Mary's life story gives me a new perspective on the quire. My favorite piece they perform, "Chosen Family," seems to have a whole new depth. I feel more appreciation to Mary's meticulous and enthusiastic instruction of the quire's practice. Understanding where Mary is from, I now respect their "comfort zone" even though I still don't share their "sense of community."

"We'll live our lives together in my love. You are my Chosen family now..."

Humming the rather sentimental song, I start my car.


The Concert

No-one here to guide you
Now you're on you own
Only me beside you
Still you're not alone.
No one is alone truly
No one is alone
Sometimes people leave you
halfway through the wood
Others may deceive you
Things will come out right now
We can make it so
Some one is on your side
No one is alone.

The quire is singing for the final rehearsal before their annual public concert at the reihaido of the Gloria Del Lutheran Church. All the members are wearing their "performance attire" :black dress pants or skirt, black dress shoes and long sleeved button-down Oxford style dress shirts in one of the seven rainbow colors in the GLBT community's diversity rainbow flag. Red, Blue, Yellow, Orange, Purple, Green, purple-- the vivid colors shine under the spot light directed at the members standing on the stage.

6:30 PM, thirty minutes before the concert starts, I stand by the entrance with the concert program in hand. I am wearing a blue button-down shirt, a long black skirt, and black dress shoes, which Mary told me to wear "if I felt like wearing the same stuff as the quire."

Finishing practice, the members came out of the reihaido. Sara, one of the members, walks toward the jacket she has left beside me. I smile at her, but she turns her face away as if she didn't see me. Picking up the jacket that almost touches my shoulder, she leaves without a word. All of sudden, I feel like my clothes are floating from me... I shouldn't have worn the members' perfomance dress yet. Maybe.

"He-ey!" I see Mary coming toward me. "So how is your paper going?"

Is she asking me about my paper? Bewildered, I tell her it's going okay, though the writing part is tough.

"I know-- writing is like vomiting what you learned right?"

Making a joke, she smiles. Really smiles, her white teeth showing. I feel my "performance attire" fits back on my body.

"Would you like a program?" I start distributing the flyers to the audience, smiling, and feeling comfortable in my rainbow-colored shirt.

References:
Aronson, A. (1996). Potties, Pride and PC: Scenes form a Lesbian Mothers Group. Frontier, , 58-72,

Eliason, M.J. (1996).Institutional Barriers to Health Care for Lesbian, Gay, & Bisexual Persons. New York, NY: National League for Nursing

Human Rights Campaign Foundation (1988), Resource Guide to Coming out [Brochure].Basile, KS: Author.

Schaps, E. (1996). Building Community in School. Principal. 76(2), 29-31.

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Chinatsu Sazawa
Graduate Student, Department of Education
University of Iowa
Iowa City, Iowa

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