Starting when I was 12 years old, the TV series Bewitched played in reruns every day when I got home from school.

I watched it constantly. I loved the show, but if you’d asked me what I liked about it back then, I don’t think I could have explained what was so compelling about a witch who falls in love with a mortal, marries him, and poses as a “regular” housewife in the suburbs… Only she uses magic!

This morning I listened to the campy song “Sam and Me” from the musical “Howard Crabtree’s When Pigs Fly,” and I had one of those hair-standing-up-on-the-back-of-your-neck moments where things from the past suddenly made sense.

Samantha “Sam” and Darren had a closeted life that worked: the adult with the secret from mortal (read: straight) society found love, her family supported her fully (well, her mother wasn’t thrilled, but ultimately accepted things) and they all hid the secret to protect the couple-in-love from a world that wouldn’t understand or accept them if the truth was known.

Like the “Sam and Me” song reminded me, Sam and Darren had to “keep the curtains drawn”, play it “straight” when Darren’s boss came over for dinner, and hide their truth from their prying next-door neighbor Mrs. Kravitz.

Yet even with hostile society all around them, the couple had access to a world of magic.

Sam was magic. With a twitch of her nose, doo-du-doo-du-doo!, she could make anything magically appear, or disappear.

And their love made it all work.

Despite the close calls “nearly every week” where they’re almost discovered (read: outed), there was never any question about Sam and Darren having to live in the closet to fit in and get by in their suburban neighborhood. Sam coming out as an actual witch was unthinkable. And yet, even inside the closet Sam and Darren’s lives felt rich and worthwhile.

And we, the audience at home, were in on the joke… the laugh track didn’t have us laughing at Sam and her magical relatives. We were laughing at the mortals, who didn’t know about Sam’s secret magic and how wonderful it was.

I did cringe every time campy and sniggering (read: Gay) Uncle Arthur (played by Paul Lynde) was on screen. I hated those scenes. Maybe because they made me hate myself. He wasn’t what I was like or wanted to be like. I couldn’t identify with Uncle Arthur at all. Maybe I was afraid that if I let myself like-like guys, I’d become like him?

It was around this time I forced my puberty-changing voice lower, trying desperately to be more macho. So no one would guess my secret.

Elizabeth Montgomery (the actress who played Sam) was beautiful, kind of like my Mom, so liking the show was internal cover for me too. It gave me the excuse “oh, that’s why I like the show so much. She’s pretty, and maybe someday I’ll grow up and be with a woman like her.” Ha. Even back then I knew that wasn’t something I wanted. But it didn’t feel like I had any choice.

I wasn’t a witch or a warlock, but as a closeted Gay boy I desperately wanted a “normal” life.

I wanted to be like Sam: married to someone I love, sharing a house and making it a home, raising a child together, having my family embrace and accept me as I am. But I didn’t want to do any of that with a woman. And I didn’t want to be the woman in that future… I had no idea how I would ever solve that puzzle, which left me incredibly conflicted, anxious, and angry.

Watching Bewitched for that half-hour every afternoon, even though I knew it wasn’t my future, was a window of hope. Hope that someday I’d figure it out. That I’d make it through.

I did.

I’ve lived an out and proud life since I was 25 years old. I’ve been together with my husband for 29 years. We share a home, and raised our strong and brilliant daughter who’s in her 20s and thriving. Even if my mother wasn’t thrilled there at first either, ultimately she and my family did embrace and accept me as I am.

Looking back now, me being a fan of Bewitched suddenly makes a lot more sense.

Thanks for reading,
Lee

PS: It’s Banned Books Week here in the US, and if you want to join the offense for the freedom to read, please check out the program I co-founded, We Are Stronger Than Censorship. $160 donation buys 20 books to offset 10 book challenges! You can also reach out to let your representatives know that you’ll be voting for the freedom to read. And you can always thank a librarian for having diverse books in their collection! Thanks for all you do, and for being part of this community.