A noted historian and leading gay activist describes his personal struggle to come to terms with his homosexuality and his search for a therapy that could transform him into a "normal" man
Martin Bauml Duberman is a scholar and playwright. He graduated from Yale in 1952 and earned a Ph.D. in American history from Harvard in 1957. Duberman left his tenured position at Princeton University in 1971 to become Distinguished Professor of History at Lehman College in New York City.
Personal history from a historian— it doesn’t get better than this. It’s important to see this journey, from a gay man born in 1930, to remember just how awful things were.
Duberman grew up in a time where his essential being was a condition that needed to be fixed. He needed to be cured. And so the journey is one in search of cures, in a fruitless quest to fix the foundation of his life.
As other reviewers here mention, it’s hard to describe just how amazing this book is. The personal is political, as they say — and through this memoir the truth of that supposed cliche becomes all too evident.
A fascinating memoir by a prominent academic, historian, and biographer, which depicts with great detail the self-hatred that defines the life experience of so many gay men. Interesting as always to read the experiences of people from generations past, and to feel the parallels along with the differences their efforts have made.
The author’s tendencies as biographer come through strong here, and it’s a bit bogged down by details. But I found it worth the read.
This is such a good book, I don't know where to start.
I wish I'd read it when I was coming out, not because of his self-hatred, but because there are some lines in the book that perfectly exemplify the process of coming to accept yourself.
The only thing that bogged down this fascinating narrative for me was some of the inner politics of leftist organizations. However, I could easily see how these would be fascinating accounts for people who want to know what the anti-war and nascent gay movements were like. For example, there's a scene in which Duberman is arrested for protesting the war and is put in the same paddy wagon as Dr. Spock!
What blew me away about this book is how gay Duberman is and yet how long it took him to accept it. I know it sounds funny, but he's a Kinsey 6 and still tortured himself for years with denigrating therapy. It's a testament to how truly repressive that era was (1940s - 1960s). He is taught to hate himself by everyone he knows and everything he sees. And this lasts for longer than I've been alive.
A must read for people interested in gay history, especially younger queers like myself who 'know' things were bad back then but maybe could use a reminder.
Highly entertaining picture of pre-Stonewall pain, with a lovely happy end. More than once, like I think most readers, I was struck by how stubbornly Marty and others like him clung to these self-hating ideas... I mean, here's a really smart guy who is very critical of society in other areas... and I think... there are probably lots of ideas out there right now that make people -- gay or otherwise -- hate themselves that are equally as dumb as the psychoanalytic crap of that era...
Not to mention the jerks who in the face of all the evidence continue to peddle "cures" for homosexuality.
This is really good! I was expecting something like The Best Little Boy in the World, and they are superficially similar, but I bounced hard off TBLBITW because the author's selfishness and emotional immaturity isn't balanced by anything worthwhile. (eta: and bigotry of literally every kind; I had forgotten what a flaming shitbag the best little boy is.)
In contrast, Duberman's memoir is alternated and interlaced with the broader historical context of gay activism, even where he didn't know or purposely avoided what was going on at the time. I mean: he went to the Stonewall Inn at least once a week in 1969! wasn't there on the night of June 28th! places himself in his apartment a few blocks away! shut away from it all behind his academic work and internalized homophobia and political disdains! Wow.
Duberman's past self is super self-critical and anxious in a way I found almost triggering; looking backwards he doesn't let himself off the hook but balances the hook with compassion. (WOW I am so glad I grew up long after psychoanalysis had fallen out of fashion, because being expected to tear yourself apart that way sounds like my absolute worst and most counterproductive instincts.) He talks a bit about his failure to see or understand lesbian issues and the criticism he sometimes received for it at the time, and he doesn't have much to say about racial or class oppression intersecting with homophobia. Still: do recommend, especially if you're interested in a less-typical view on gay history.
Duberman's description of his experience as a gay man in the 50s and 60s is riddled with self hate, and the long, painful journey to self acceptance, which didn't come until much later. This book weaves in the movement of other civil rights groups, and has a quite disheartening similarity to today's struggles. "Power as a device for achieving political and economic solidarity and as a lever with which to exert maximum pressure on a recalcitrant white world. Whites should do well to remember, I suggested, that they had always considered self-defense acceptable behavior for themselves--and indeed had filled our textbooks with praise for those "heroic" Americans who in 1776 had taken up arms in response to the threat (more threat, it should be argued, that actuality) by British authorities to curtail colonial liberties. " (127)
"The claim on immutability-- of nothing changing--is a pose, dear, a way of refusing to countenance age and death. You'll do on changing. You always have." (273)
"...the next decade proved a rollercoaster for me of alternating exhilaration and despair. That shouldn't come as any real surprise. Not to anyone who understands that life is a mood swing"
Martin Duberman's chronicle of his struggle to accept being gay isn't an uplifting story, partly because the culturally encouraged self-hate is so persistent, partly because the author's more concerned with being right in his interactions with others than giving an honest self-assessment. As a closeted gay man of the time, Duberman lashes out at queer artists braver than him -- John Rechy, Al Carmines -- in "The New York Times"; his own masked confessions for the stage sound as though they have an unhealthy dose of self-loathing, too. Besides that, this Ivy Leaguer's memoir recounts group therapy in which a fellow patient gives him a bloody nose, sex worker liaisons (with men half his age) that he interprets as mentorship with perks, and an overbearing mother whose influence on his character is written off as psychobabble. I found his story frustrating. Duberman's contributions to the LGBT movement really begin just as the book ends: He co-founded the scholarly activist organization, Gay Academic Union. But even that stinks of self-aggrandizement. Anyone know if his sequel "Midlife Queer" is any better?
What an important book - at least for me! I am so impressed at this incredibly intelligent person - and all that he was able to accomplish, in spite of years of struggling with his homosexuality. A real role model!
A really interesting read. Valuable for the historical and political narratives about the burgeoning LGBT movement, and for the firsthand account of the damage done by the psychiatric community in holding fast to their vision of homosexuality as pathological. The name dropping is occasionally tiresome, but Duberman is such a great analytical writer that the book is very easy to read.
This was not great writing nor was it great reading in some sense. Still it was interesting and left me with insights that I might otherwise not have had.