Queerness has always been here. Instances of homosexuality are noted throughout history — gay relationships during Greek and Roman times, King Edward II of England and Piers Gaveston, literary figures like Oscar Wilde, Virginia Woolf, and Tennessee Williams. Even the struggle for gay rights dates back before Stonewall.
However, while we can point to that history to celebrate our queerness — a little “we’re here, we’re queer, get used to it” — I don’t know that the queer community is built upon its own foundation. Americans have a laundry list of individuals to cite when talking about the founding of the country, yet the queer community doesn’t share a similar experience.
Sure, we can name who was at the Stonewall Riots, we can discuss Harvey Milk, and we can talk about gay and lesbian figures who influenced our lives. We just don’t have a way to pinpoint who laid the foundation for the queer community. It’s just always been there — sometimes hiding in the shadows and other times as in-your-face as was needed.
Do a little digging, and you can find the clues. Gay men were “creative,” “artistic,” or “confirmed bachelors.” Lesbian relationships in the late 1800s and early 1900s were called “Boston Marriages.” Queer coding allowed people to find like-minded individuals, even if one couldn’t be publicly out.
Four thousand letters between Eleanor Roosevelt and Lorena Hickok, and correspondence between Abraham Lincoln and Joshua Speed, provide proof that queerness was more prevalent than some want to believe. Except those relationships only make up a small part of the queer community. As historians continue to study historical figures, one would expect to find that more of them existed somewhere on the queer spectrum.
Unfortunately, for queer architects, we have very few clues as to who laid the foundation for us — if anyone did at all. Some are quick to point out Philip Johnson as the pioneering queer architect. He did come out in 1993 after a lifelong career in the closet. But in true fashion, we continue to talk only about an architect’s work, not their life, so we haven’t seen anyone as public.
Still, I like to think queer architects in the past provided some sort of foundation — whether that someone was Louis Sullivan, Charles Moore, or Philip Johnson. As with other queer figures, a little research reveals a lot for those looking for their queer elders: Moore being forced out of Princeton because he was too erratic and deviant; writers referring to Paul Rudolph as too busy for a private life; and while not out publicly, Johnson’s homosexuality was the worst-kept secret.
The question now is who will pave the way for the next generation. Who will provide a foundation to build upon — my generation, those coming up behind me, or those just coming out of school?
I hope that for myself and my queer colleagues, we are leaving a path forward — that we continue to promote queer visibility in architecture, and that we can provide a solid foundation for the next generation of queer architects.
