Narrator: In 1971, a successful writer named Merle Miller sat down to write an essay for The New York Times Magazine. The essay, titled "What It Means to Be a Homosexual," was a profound risk. At the time, being openly gay could mean losing your job, your family, and your safety. Miller wrote about the constant, gnawing fear, recounting how a close friend—a father of nine—joked that Miller shouldn't make a pass at his son. It was a joke that wasn't a joke, a casual expression of a deep-seated belief that gay men were predatory and untrustworthy. This single, painful anecdote captured the suffocating reality of a world that demanded silence.

Decades later, another writer, known for his sharp wit and refusal to be silent, would reflect on Miller's courage. In his book, American Savage: Insights, Slights, and Fights on Faith, Sex, Love, and Politics, Dan Savage explores the vast, often contradictory landscape of modern American life. He dissects the very fears Miller described, but from a world that has been radically transformed, yet is still rife with hypocrisy. The book serves as a guide through the messy, uncomfortable, and often hilarious battlegrounds of contemporary culture, challenging sacred cows and demanding a more honest conversation about who we are.

Narrator: Savage begins by dismantling two of society's most rigid institutions: traditional religion and absolute monogamy. Raised in a devout Catholic family, his journey away from the Church began not with a loss of faith in God, but with the realization that the Church’s teachings on homosexuality were fundamentally wrong. This personal conflict—loving an institution that refused to love him back—fuels his critique of religious hypocrisy. He points to data showing that the vast majority of Catholics ignore Church doctrine on birth control, premarital sex, and divorce, yet the institution focuses its condemnation disproportionately on gay people, whose "sin" is their very identity.

This willingness to question established rules extends to the bedrock of modern romance: monogamy. Savage argues that the conventional wisdom—that cheating is always an unforgivable betrayal—is a simplistic and often destructive ideal. He presents stories of couples in sexless marriages, where one partner has lost all interest in physical intimacy. In one such case, a man’s wife’s libido vanished for years. After trying everything, he discreetly began a long-term affair. When his wife’s sex drive unexpectedly returned, he ended the affair, and their marriage, which was otherwise loving and strong, was saved. Savage’s point is provocative: we only hear about the affairs that destroy relationships, never the ones that, by providing an outlet, might actually preserve them. He argues for a more realistic and compassionate view, suggesting that marital stability should be valued more than the often-untenable ideal of perfect sexual exclusivity.

Narrator: Savage reserves his most pointed criticism for closeted public figures who build careers on anti-gay rhetoric. He argues that while older generations of gay men had few options but to hide, modern figures who came of age after the Stonewall Riots have a choice. Those who choose to remain closeted while actively harming the LGBTQ+ community are guilty of a profound hypocrisy.

He points to the case of Ted Haggard, the powerful evangelical pastor and head of the National Association of Evangelicals. Haggard was a vocal opponent of gay rights, preaching against the "dangers" of homosexuality from his pulpit. His career came crashing down when a male escort named Mike Jones came forward, revealing he had been in a years-long sexual relationship with Haggard. Jones explained that he broke his silence because he could no longer stomach the hypocrisy of a man who publicly condemned people for being exactly what he was in private. For Savage, Haggard’s sin wasn’t being gay or hiring an escort; it was the closet itself. It was the act of using his power to inflict pain on a community to which he secretly belonged, all to maintain a facade.

Narrator: Savage argues that American culture is plagued by "sex dread," a fear-based approach to sexuality that is codified in its inadequate sex education. He uses a brilliant analogy: imagine a driver's education course that only teaches about the mechanics of the internal combustion engine and the gruesome details of car crashes, but never mentions how to steer, use the brakes, or read traffic signals. This, he contends, is how we teach sex. We focus on reproductive biology and disease prevention, instilling fear while completely ignoring pleasure, desire, and communication.

As an antidote, Savage champions the concept of being "GGG," which stands for "Good, Giving, and Game." This is a framework for sexual generosity in a relationship. It means being a good partner, being giving of pleasure, and being game to try new things within reason. It’s not about submitting to every whim, but about fostering an environment of open communication and mutual effort. He refutes critics who claim this is a "gay ethic" unsuited for straight couples by citing scientific studies showing that couples who are more willing to accommodate each other's sexual needs report higher levels of desire and relationship satisfaction. Being GGG, Savage argues, strengthens the bond for both partners and is a key ingredient for long-term passion.

Narrator: With biting satire, Savage dismantles the argument that being gay is a choice—a claim often used to justify discrimination. During the 2012 presidential campaign, candidate Herman Cain repeatedly insisted that homosexuality was a choice. Savage responded with the "Choicer Challenge," daring Cain and other "choicers" to prove their point by simply choosing to be gay for a year. The challenge highlights the absurdity of the premise; if sexual orientation were a choice, then heterosexuality would be one too, a notion that no straight person would accept.

Savage brings this theme home with a personal and humorous story about his own son, D.J., whom he adopted with his husband, Terry. Anti-gay activists often claim that children raised by gay parents will be "recruited" into the "gay lifestyle." Yet, as D.J. grew up, it became clear he was straight. He was so worried about disappointing his gay dads that he first came out as straight to a neighbor, swearing him to secrecy. The story perfectly subverts the stereotype, demonstrating that a parent's sexual orientation has no bearing on their child's. It underscores that love and acceptance, not "lifestyle," are what truly define a family.

Narrator: The book culminates in a powerful argument for the right to live and die with autonomy and dignity. This fight is waged on two fronts: providing hope for the living and offering choice for the dying. The first is embodied by the It Gets Better Project, which Savage and his husband started in response to a wave of suicides among bullied LGBTQ+ youth. The project was born from the tragic death of Billy Lucas, a fifteen-year-old boy who hanged himself after relentless torment from classmates. The project’s goal was simple: to show isolated and desperate young people that their lives were worth living and that a better future was possible.

The second front is the right to a dignified death. Savage recounts the harrowing experience of watching his mother die from pulmonary fibrosis. Despite being surrounded by a loving family, her final days were a gruesome, painful struggle for breath. This experience solidified his belief in physician-assisted suicide. He argues that while religious individuals have every right to believe that life must be preserved until a "natural" end, they have no right to impose that belief on others who are facing unbearable suffering. Just as one shouldn't be forced to have an abortion, one shouldn't be forced to endure a protracted, agonizing death. The choice, he insists, must belong to the individual.

Narrator: At its core, American Savage is a relentless assault on hypocrisy. Dan Savage argues that the greatest moral failures in American society stem not from our private behaviors, but from the public lies we tell to condemn others while hiding our own truths. Whether it's a politician voting against the rights of people they secretly are, a religious leader preaching a standard they don't follow, or a society that champions a flawed ideal of monogamy, the real damage is done by the gap between our stated values and our actions.

This is most powerfully illustrated in the book's final act, where Savage hosts Brian Brown, the nation's leading anti-gay marriage activist, for a debate at his dinner table. After hours of circular arguments, Savage’s husband, Terry, reaches his breaking point. He tells Brown that his humanity is not up for debate and, in a moment of raw, unfiltered honesty, tells him to "Get the fuck out of my house." This moment is not a failure of dialogue, but a declaration of dignity. It is the book’s ultimate challenge to the reader: to engage with the world honestly and compassionately, but to also recognize the moment when tolerance for intolerance becomes a betrayal of oneself.