“This is a powerful story of love, politics, journalism, and death that will move anyone familiar with any one of those topics. It is tender and raw and real. Mutchler offers her heart to her readers. And it's as a big and strong and loving as the tale that she tells." —John Baer, political columnist, Philadelphia Daily News

“. . . an incredibly touching and poignant love story about two strong women set in the context of big state politics. The book is compelling.” —Governor Ed Rendell

"A heartbreaking but hopeful story about hidden love. Terry Mutchler gives us her precious secret life, laid out in aching detail, in the most hopeful enterprise of all—that by sharing, she might help us understand. An undeniably muscular, brave, and beautiful piece of work." —Christi Parsons, White House Correspondent, The Los Angeles Times

“. . . this memoir deserves a prominent place on gay rights bookshelves (and Mutchler’s frank self-analysis is admirable and moving).” —Publishers Weekly

"A taut political drama, a heart-rending human tragedy, and a front-line view of the epic civil rights struggle of our time. It also happens to be a timeless love story." —Kevin McDermott, political writer, St. Louis Post-Dispatch

Author Q&A with Terry Mutchler

1. Many gay and lesbian authors have written about hiding their sexuality and personal relationships and being unable to show their love publicly. Tell us about how your relationship with Penny was even more so affected by your professional roles in politics.

Politics is all about perception, and it played a key role in our need to keep our relationship a secret. Penny was a senator in an ultra-conservative district with more Republican voters than Democrats. Disclosing that she was a lesbian, undoubtedly at the time of President Clinton’s “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy, would have jeopardized her life’s work in politics. Given the level of homophobia in central Illinois, she may have even endured a “recall vote” or been pressured to resign her seat prior to an election.

This was not just an empty fear. Penny had some reason to believe this would be the reaction to her being involved with a woman. When she was in her 20s, she ran for Congress unsuccessfully. At the time, the GOP engaged in a whisper campaign alleging that Penny was a lesbian—and although she was involved with a man at the time, the unfounded rumors that she was gay contributed to the loss.

For me, the need for secrecy of our same-sex relationship initially centered on the ethical concerns of being a journalist covering politics and being romantically involved with a senator. As a Pulitzer Prize-winning editor at The Philadelphia Inquirer had once cautioned my college classmates and myself: “I don’t care if you screw the elephants, just don’t cover the circus.” Because of the ethical concerns, I eventually left journalism and became Penny’s full-time press secretary—a way to be near her without raising eyebrows. Her job, and thus mine as her spokeswoman, depended on keeping our relationship secret.

2. Can you share a time when this was particularly apparent to you? How did it impact you?

The depth of conservative, anti-gay sentiment in central Illinois became very apparent within weeks of our relationship in both the Senate and in Penny’s hometown. The effect on both of us, as highly visible women in the political arena, was that we doubled-down on our efforts to make sure no one knew about our relationship.

The Illinois Senate Executive Committee, of which Penny was the ranking Democrat, considered a bill to prohibit discrimination against gays and lesbians in employment and housing. The mother of a murdered gay sailor, Allan Schindler, testified before the powerful committee in support of the legislation. Dorothy Hadjs told senators how her son was beaten to death on a Navy ship stationed in Japan just because he was gay. The pathologist’s report indicated Allan’s body was beaten “like a smushed tomato.”

Penny told me that even as the mother testified, a few fellow senators whispered crude, anti-gay jokes. In the newsroom, reporters didn’t hesitate to express their hate-filled views that the dead sailor “should have known better” than to join the Navy. When Penny decided to vote in favor of the legislation, the negative reaction was swift. Opponents of the bill blasted supporting lawmakers as giving “special treatment” to gays. A clergyman testified that a “yes” vote would result in an increase in the AIDS epidemic.

That very week in Penny’s hometown, the local State’s Attorney referred to gay men who meet in parks as a “bunch of faggots.” Two days later, he defended his use of the derogatory language by telling the press, “I was referring to a small number of individuals who prey upon the public on public property as they seek out recruits for their criminal sexual behavior.”

Worse, many residents vocally supported the views of the State’s Attorney, which both disgusted and frightened us. I remember saying to Penny later when we discussed the homophobia in-depth, “There’s no way we could ever be honest about loving each other in this town.”

3. What do you want your audience to take away from reading your book?

The book details the ultimate devastation that befalls individuals, families, and institutions when gays and lesbians are denied access to the altar or the protection of civil unions. My great hope is that readers, seeing firsthand the personal price paid for being forced to live a lie, will use this story as a stepping stone to live authentically and out loud, no matter the cost. I also hope this book will move policy makers to embrace true equality and ensure that no one else is forced to endure what I did simply because I loved a woman.