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Having died earlier this month after two decades in the Senate, Lindsey Graham is likely to be remembered for his roles in foreign policy and his imprimatur on Trumpism. For LGBTQ+ people especially, he may be remembered as the last closet case.
There is no verified public evidence of Graham’s sexual orientation. He consistently denied the rumors, stating in 2018: “To the extent that it matters, I’m not gay.”
The truth may remain hidden. That is the nature of accusing someone of being a closeted gay person: The claim is impossible to prove false and often is never proved to be true. Yet the question of Graham’s alleged homosexuality reminds us that even in 2026, homophobia keeps many LGBTQ+ people in the closet. The official silence around his sexuality reveals a core challenge in including LGBTQ+ people in society.
Graham’s work life parallels the progress of LGBTQ+ rights. Born in 1955, he entered adulthood in the mid-1970s, just after Stonewall launched the contemporary LGBTQ+ rights movement. Success for the movement was slow and hard-won. Even local civil rights protections took decades. A Democrat, Bill Clinton, signed Republican legislation in 1996 that barred federal recognition of same-sex marriages (the so-called Defense of Marriage Act). The U.S. Supreme Court decriminalized homosexuality just over two decades ago, in 2003. Marriage equality arrived just over a decade ago. Six years ago, the Supreme Court extended civil rights protections to LGBTQ+ people.
This rapid change leaves us, in 2026, in a disjointed world, in which middle-aged and older leaders live as if homosexuality were a crime, while younger people cannot fully understand why anyone would be closeted at all. So many young people identify as LGBTQ+ that, like straight and cisgender people, many don’t even bother to come out.
In a recent law review article, I argued that despite the relatively rapid entry of LGBTQ+ people into society, the world at the top looks radically different. It’s almost totally straight. To the extent LGBTQ+ people rise to the top, both public and private, they almost always remain in the closet. The U.S. has just one openly LGBTQ+ senator, Tammy Baldwin. Three governors and 12 members of the House of Representatives fill out federal leadership.
The most powerful openly gay leaders obtained their positions through appointments: Few seemed to object to Treasury Secretary Scott Bessent’s appointment by President Trump. But while many have praised Pete Buttigieg in his public roles, and as a rising voice for the millennial generation in President Biden’s Cabinet, others still dismiss his presidential prospects because of his sexuality and his family dynamics.
The private sector matches this record: only one CEO in the Fortune 500, and LGBTQ+ people constitute less than a percent of leading corporate boards.
Why is this? Because LGBTQ+ people know that to climb the ladder one must lie about being gay. It’s not hard to imagine why someone starting a political career in 1970s and 1980s South Carolina would choose to present as straight. Ambitious gay men at that time knew the path to leadership lay only in keeping their sexuality a secret.
Closeted people play a complex role within the LGBTQ+ community. They may publicly oppose LGBTQ+ rights. They may even persecute those who are open. That’s why many LGBTQ+ people referred to Graham as “Lady G,” to mock his hypocrisy. It’s also why some in the LGBTQ+ community have supported outing those who refuse to come out.
Closeted people struggle mightily to manage their identity. Maintaining any lie always requires immense effort. Prior to smartphones, people such as Sen. Larry Craig (who resigned after cruising for sex in a men’s room) could visit gay bars and clubs without instant loss of their careers. Now, smartphones’ omnipresence has annihilated the privacy of LGBTQ+ spaces.
What matters is this: Homophobia defines leadership, just as sexism and racism do. Both public and private elites use heterosexuality as a qualification for leadership. Most corporate boards do not select openly LGBTQ+ people as chief executives. The public sector is no better. To rise to the top, almost always, one must be straight or at least willing to pretend. The challenges faced by LGBTQ+ people of Graham’s generation may have seemed insurmountable, but younger candidates, such as Buttigieg, still face serious obstacles when running for office.
What matters now — especially now — is this: Let’s hope Lindsey Graham might be America’s last closet case. LGBTQ+ people can’t settle for equal rights; we must obtain equal opportunity. The public and private sectors should pursue policies so that people don’t feel pressured to stay in the closet; part of this involves welcoming more openly LGBTQ+ leaders. Only then will inclusion become a reality, especially for the many ambitious, promising LGBTQ+ leaders. Having a broader group of potential leaders, unafraid to be who they are, can only improve society.
Darren Rosenblum is a professor of law who researches corporate inclusion.
This story originally appeared in Los Angeles Times.
