Hurrah for Ellen Page, who came out publicly in Las Vegas on Friday. Speaking at the Human Rights Campaign's Time to Thrive conference for LGBT counsellors, the star of Juno and X-Men made a brave decision to be open in the hope that doing so would make a difference to those who are tired of "lying by omission", as she put it.
The announcement caused a frenzy on news and social media sites around the world. By Saturday morning, the Human Rights Campaign site, which was hosting her eight-minute speech, had crashed its server and Ellen Page was trending on Twitter, a fair indication then that the young Canadian's decision to come out is newsworthy.
It's news and yet it shouldn't be news.
It's news because we live in a culture that produces and supports heterosexual dominance. Things like law, media and language, enduring organisational structures that most of us, whether gay, bi or straight, have absorbed into our collective consciousness and regurgitate whether we want to or not. Some people, such as Sir Patrick Stewart, think Page's coming out speech is newsworthy because a high-profile and surprisingly politically aware young actress has decided not to play by the rules that so many closeted Hollywood actors are advised to follow if they are to enjoy mainstream success.
Sure, it's affirming to hear anyone openly state they are not going to lie about who they love. It is inspirational because it gives those who are still too afraid to do so the hope that they might one day have the courage to do the same.
But let's consider the opposite view. It shouldn't really be news because all Page has done is to disclose her romantic preference for women. To contextualise this: under patriarchy, no one has to "come out" as a heterosexual. Gay people who come out publicly don't want special treatment and a cake. We come out because we want to be ourselves and have people treat us with the same dignity they would accord a heterosexual person.
Page's declaration shouldn't be news, but when I read the spiteful remarks in response to the speech – made to people who work with LGBT teens, many of whom experience mental and physical abuse as a result of their sexuality – my heart sank. The comments ranged from the sneering "We don't care – Don't rub our noses in your sexuality – Get a life" to the sinister "Send her to Uganda. That should sort her out." These words clearly demonstrate why Page's act was so necessary. I wish coming out wasn't a big deal. But it's because of lesbophobia that it is.
But what is it about a woman declaring that she is not heterosexual that irks people so? The psychoanalyst Jessica Benjamin has written about the discomfort we often experience when we're required to recognise the subjectivity of another person. Those who are comfortable with their own desire are usually more comfortable with others' different desires, regardless of the hetero-normative narratives that cast lesbians as wayward because of our deviation from "normal" female desire.
History may have failed us, but activism and recent changes to equality legislation are starting to turn the tide. Concurrently, some heterosexuals – even those who pay lip service to equality – are feeling threatened. If former social pariahs like us are racking up so many column inches and considered equal in law, what impact will this have on the hegemonic status of heterosexuals? We're tolerated if we are an occasional mention, but not if we are persistently present.
In her speech, Page invited the audience to imagine how the world might be if we were kinder to each other. We would do well to follow her lead. It's simply not enough to believe in equality; we have to live it and help others do that, too.
