Gays have run into a lot of resistance in their quest to become fully accepted as participating members of their communities. The general population has been very hesitant to accommodate homosexuals, because it would entail a substantial discomfort to their own way of living. Many people, especially those who are religious, do not want to face their children’s queries regarding the friendly homosexuals in their midst. But objectively, based on Nussbaum’s list of ‘Central Human Functional Capabilities’ in “Women and Cultural Universals,” gays have an inherent right to choose their sexual orientation, and to be a part of their communities regardless of their sexual preferences. On the other hand, though, it is understandable that the general population has been slow to integrate them as full-fledged members of society. So the question remains, how will their integration take place? Some might argue, based on Gladwell’s ‘Tipping Point’ theory in “The Power of Context: Bernie Goetz and the Rise and Fall of New York City Crime,” that a single event, such as Matt’s brutal murder in Loffreda’s “Losing Matt Shepard: Life and Politics in the Aftermath of Anti-Gay Murder,” could have the power to spur the general population’s unconditional acceptance of gays. The people of Laramie undoubtedly yearned for their community to be a peaceful place to live. “‘Hate is not a Wyoming value,’ residents kept telling each other…‘We really take care of each other here,’ a woman [proclaimed]” (Loffreda 444). And if living in harmony entails the acceptance of gays, such accommodation should really be fast in coming. But Loffreda voices many doubts as to whether the public display of support, following the hate-filled attack on the gay student, was at all sincere. Based on Scott’s thesis of ‘hidden and public transcripts’ in “Behind the Official Story,” I would like to suggest an alternative theory as to how a dramatic change in people’s imbedded attitudes could occur over time. It is because one could harbor a ‘hidden transcript’ that is opposite his or her ‘public transcript’ that people are comfortable portraying a ‘politically correct’ public persona while initially harboring their old biases. Thus in the aftermath of a traumatic event, such as Matt’s brutal death, people are willing to publicly decry the mistreatment of gays, because public pronouncements do not necessarily force those who utter them to actually embrace them. Privately, people could continue to be bigoted in their ‘hidden transcript.’ But with the passage of time people’s hidden prejudices could slowly erode to ultimately bring their hidden transcripts in line with their public ones. Thus an initial “double consciousness” (Loffreda 435) is imperative, and not a hindrance, for the advent of change.

Western societies have been overwhelmingly supportive of the principle, echoed by Nussbaum, that individuals should have the opportunity to choose for themselves their own way of life. The American embrace of ‘freedom’ (to be whatever ‘you’ want to be) has been the driving force behind the mending of numerous hostile relationships between various groups that diverge in race, gender, religion and/or ethnicity. As for homosexuals, however, their ‘freedom of choice’ has only recently been nascent. There is no question that their predicament has improved greatly over the last half century; but yet, as Loffreda attests, “in the late 1990’s, homosexuality and vehement opposition to it were everywhere in American public culture and politics. Gays in the military, gays in schools, gays in church, gays in marriage—the place of gay men and lesbians in American culture seemed to be debated in every way possible” (Loffreda 441). The fact that the gay ‘issue’ is being popularly debated must surely be considered as the first rays of their sunshine. But why have we, Americans, been so slow to accept and integrate gays into our communities, considering that a general cordiality has prevailed in the treatment of those who are ‘different?’

Loffreda wonders aloud whether the people of Laramie had indeed come to accept gays in the wake of Matt’s death. She acknowledges that ‘publicly’ an unprecedented display of support for gays was manifested, and, as an example, she elaborates on the fact that the vigils held for Matt’s recovery where popularly attended. But Stephanie, a member of the LGBTA, felt that “a hypocrisy [was] at work that night. ‘[There] was a tremendous outpouring of support…but I just questioned the sincerity of some people—if they had known that Matt was gay while he was alive, [they] would have spat on him’” (Loffreda 434). On the other hand, Loffreda points out that “[the] vigils held [a] fragile promise of a changed Laramie, a town that—whether it much wanted to or not—would think hard and publicly…about the gay men and women in its midst, about their safety and comfort and rights” (Loffreda 434). Nussbaum would be very troubled as to why the people of Lamarie were so slow to fully implement one of her ‘Central Human Functional Capabilities:’ “Bodily Integrity… having opportunities for sexual satisfaction and for choice in matters of reproduction” (Nussbaum 463). Nussbaum’s expectation regarding ‘sexual choice’ seems to be quite reasonable and in line with the rest of her central human functions, yet, according to Loffreda, the people in Lamarie seemed to be particularly hesitant to grant any such freedom to those who were gay.

The reason behind many people’s ‘nonsensical’ ambivalence towards homosexuality lies in its perceived risk to their own way of living. There is a flip side to the integration of homosexuals into one’s community. If gays were in their midst, religious families would find it extremely difficult and uncomfortable to raise their children with what they believe are the correct values regarding sexuality. Imagine a parent’s dilemma when his/her child comes home from school asking about a classmate’s ‘two’ mommies or daddies. Imagine, as well, the predicament of the Church when it would be forced to preach paradoxical creeds such as “Hate the sin, love the sinner” (Loffreda 441). Just as gays’ rights are to be considered trampled-on for not being fully integrated by society, religious people’s rights must be considered trampled-on if one day they would wake up to find unabashed gays in their midst. Religious families have their own rights to a yet another ‘Central Human Function’ proposed by Nussbaum: “Emotions… not having one’s emotional developing [sic] blighted by fear or anxiety. (Supporting this capability means supporting forms of human association that can be shown to be crucial to their development)” (Nussbaum 463). And, as explained in her footnote: “some form of intimate family love is central to child development” (albeit she herself believes that “this need not be the traditional Western nuclear family”) (Nussbaum 482). Thus it should come as no wonder that Leslea Newman’s talk about her “gay-themed children’s books, which include the oft-censored Heather Has Two Mommies,” was so sparsely attended (Nussbaum 435). It seems reasonable that ‘ordinary’ people should be determined to protest (maybe even genuinely) a gay student’s murder, and to attend vigils in support of homosexuals; but it is much harder, however, for a ‘straight’ person to accept that his or her child may come home one day asking: “How come my buddy’s got ‘two mommies?’”

In an ideal world (at least from religious people’s perspective) gays would build their own communities relatively isolated from general society (much like the Amish in Lancaster, PA) and still live happy lives. This, in essence, is the way that those with different religious beliefs manage to live side by side, by mildly isolating themselves from each other while being respectful of one another. But reality is not so; gay people grow up in ‘normal’ families and have strong connections to their community in various ways. They too have a right to “Emotions… being able to love those who love and care for us” (Nussbaum 463). So considering that everyone has the right to ‘sexual choice,’ gays and their ‘protected’ lifestyle are undoubtedly here to stay, and the general public will just have to learn to adapt—period. But how is this adaptation going to happen?

Getting rid of a community’s collective intolerance towards gays is a most onerous task; but traumatic events might have the power to unsettle people’s prejudices. “We’ve always known [that] someone would have to get killed or beaten before they finally listened. I just can’t believe it happened to someone I cared so much about” (Loffreda 428). This sentiment, voiced by one of Matt’s friends, indeed posits that a single traumatic event, spurred by the media no less, would be sufficient to propel gays’ acceptance into general society. But how could Matt’s murder be a focal point for change—isn’t a single death just a trivial event relative to society’s historical antagonism towards homosexuals? Gladwell would argue that since changes within society require a ‘tipping point,’ a single traumatic event could indeed be a catalyst for the sudden acceptance of gays. The media, no doubt, played a major role by disseminating the notion that “[Matt] had been strung up on the fence [providing] a rich, obvious source of symbolism” (Loffreda 442). Symbolism was certainly an important factor, as voiced by a Star-Tribune reporter: “One thousand others from Wyoming and the surrounding states flew or drove into Wyoming to mourn for Matt Shepard, the symbol” (Loffreda 440). Gladwell would argue that the introduction of a ‘symbol’ drastically altered the people’s immediate environment causing a major change in their attitude. But such an argument would fall short in the face of a number of defiant declarations such as: “I hate gays and I’m not changing my opinion;” or “[he] got what he deserved” (Loffreda 438). It is interesting to note, though, that those who kept their biases were forced to go on the record and state clearly that they were ‘not’ going to change their opinions about homosexuals. Matt ‘the symbol,’ at the very least, brought gay issues to the forefront, and there is no doubt that such a development is best understood using Gladwell’s theory that a single event could serve as a ‘tipping point’ for change.

A lot of sympathy was popularly displayed in the aftermath of Matt’s death. But Loffreda voices some doubt as to nature of the outpouring empathy. “It was hard to know to a certainty whether we were all there simply to mourn Matt or to make sure that mourning was represented” (Loffreda 435). Using Scott’s idea of public and hidden transcripts, we could elaborate extensively on Loffreda’s doubts. People are extremely good at keeping their inner feelings private when they feel that it is imperative to do so. The subordinate in Scott’s essay decided to keep their transcripts of hatred towards the powerful ‘hidden,’ because otherwise they would have been severely punished. If one is to hide his or her true feelings successfully, he or she must show a public transcript that is ‘acceptable.’ Before Matt’s death, people did not hesitate to show a disdain for homosexuals, because the public atmosphere was antagonistic towards gay people. The public discourse did not include hidden transcripts since most people felt free to publicly express their true feelings. But after Matt’s death it became unacceptable to express those antagonistic thoughts. Thus, the people were compelled to quickly develop a ‘public transcript’ to suit the expectation of tolerance, while relegating their unacceptable ‘true’ feelings about gays to a ‘hidden transcript.’ So mourning most definitively had to be represented, but whether or not the mourning was genuine is solely the realm of the ‘hidden transcript.’

For Gladwell, who believes that we are only a mirror image of our environment, a gradual change in people’s attitude towards homosexuals is impossible. But for Scott, gradual changes could indeed occur, because people have the resources to harbor opposite feelings by displaying one in public while keeping the other one privately hidden. Changes in public positions are hard and sudden; but hidden feelings could linger and change gradually over time. Scott would argue that it is precisely with the aid of “a [little] hypocrisy” (Loffreda 434) that cultures could change their attitudes towards gays. If they would not be able to harbor feelings that are opposite their public image, they very possibly would not have ever changed their public transcript in the first place. Loffreda states that the behavior of Laramie’s citizens following Matt’s death was “an early manifestation of Lamarie’s new double consciousness” (Loffreda 435). But I believe that starting with a double conscious is the right step towards increased tolerance of homosexuals. One Laramie activist expressed impatience with incremental change by saying, “‘I wondered when we’d stop talking about how we felt and begin talking about what to do’” (Loffreda 439). It is a valid point that talking is not enough; but we must realize that change is a gradual process which involves talking first and ‘doing’ only later. Instead of being disappointed, Loffreda should have been exalted at witnessing the initial steps towards the full acceptance of gays by the community of Laramie. Change was most definitively on the way when a student confided in her that “he had what he called, with a defensive grin, a real breakthrough: he felt a little sick, he told me, that he had thought things about gays that the two killers had probably been thinking about Shepard” (Loffreda 438). And even if his statements were partially driven to pay lip service to the expectation of tolerance, with time he would gradually come around to wholeheartedly accept gays as his brethren.

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