When Rosie O'Donnell showed up on The O'Reilly Factor last week, the stage was set for a bludgeoning. You don't just toss Bill O'Reilly a Hollywood liberal -- a lesbian no less -- and expect her to emerge unscathed.
But instead, it seemed the two met in a political middle of sorts.
"Before September 11, I was definitely mildly myopic in terms of my political agenda," Rosie confessed. "If you were a Democrat, you were probably right. If you were a Republican, you were probably wrong. Everything changed for me." Before the night was over she expressed disgust for Bill Clinton and belated admiration for Rudy Giuliani, and softened her anti-gun stance. And even as she gracefully parried questions about the ability of gays to parent, Rosie seemed to hedge on the issue of gay visibility. The very apparent relationship between Ellen Degeneres and Anne Heche, she said, "was offensive to me."
The O'Reilly appearance confirmed what many in the gay and lesbian media have long suspected: Rosie's take on motherhood politics has a conservative streak. Motherhood is the operative term here because, as Rosie told Diane Sawyer on her PrimeTime Live coming-out special, her sexuality is "never in the top 10 list of how I identify myself." It was her role as parent, she explained, that prodded her to come out and launch a media campaign for gay adoption rights.
But though Rosie's family involvement is critically important, it has also been problematic in her coming out -- and not just because of the predictable attacks from the religious right. Gay columnists had long criticized Rosie for her reluctance to make her sexuality public while making her family life -- her motherhood -- central on her talk show. For years her relationship was an open secret in Hollywood and the gay press, drawing reproach from gay journalists like Michelangelo Signorile and Andrew Sullivan, who saw her silence as irresponsible at best and cynically opportunistic at worst. (Sullivan has been more forgiving than Signorile: The latter suggested Rosie went public to silence her gay critics.) Though many gay commentators now praise her dedication, it's a qualified praise and suspicion lingers. Michael Musto reminds his Village Voice readers that Rosie is promoting a new book and her show is in its last season.
Rosie has to take some of the blame for this. It's irritating to hear this otherwise generous and astute woman tell O'Reilly that she refused to lend her public support to a rally for Matthew Shepard because Degeneres -- who asked for her help -- had not marched for James Byrd, another hate-crime victim. Why should it matter what Degeneres did or didn't do? Does that justify holding back from a just cause in return?
But it's equally clear, both from the renewed criticism and Rosie's recent interviews, that political differences have been key to her mixed reception in the gay media. Most gay editorialists, not to mention fellow gay activists, lean left of center. Most also view coming out -- and staying visible -- as politically crucial. But Rosie, who never saw herself as closeted, only "quietly gay," brought her orientation into view solely to further the cause of gay parents. Specifically, she told Paula Martinac of PlanetOut that she was alerted to the case of a Florida boy whose foster fathers, under state law, are not allowed to adopt him. As a gay adoptive parent who own a house in Florida, Rosie felt compelled to speak out. "I wish I could say I had a gay agenda I was trying to serve. I did not. I want [the boy] to stay with his family. My speaking about my life, my situation as a gay Floridian foster parent could make a difference in that boy's life, and that is why I did it." Note the loaded phrase "gay agenda."
But if she's not the gay activist liberals dream of, Rosie remains a key ally on an issue in desperate need of patronage. She has the respect and affection of millions of daytime television viewers, extensive financial resources, and enviable media clout. And these translate into something more tangible: grassroots political action. After her coming out episode aired, the ACLU reportedly forwarded over 80,000 e-mails from its Web site to Governor Jeb Bush and Florida's Department of Children and Families, urging them to lift the ban on gay adoptions. O'Reilly himself, in a post-mortem on her appearance, suggested it was only a matter of time before the ban collapses.
It may even be that in the country's post-September11 tilt to the right, Rosie's down-to-earth persona may be more persuasive. After all, maternal appeal can strip the far right of its most potent weapon: the monopoly on family values.
