Purveyor of fancy cinematic faggotry James Ivory kept his homosexualism with Mohammedan co-purveyor Ismail Merchant a secret.
Even with the release in 1987 of Maurice, they batted away any prying questions about their private lives.
Such questions were never “prying,” nor did they impinge on anything “private.” That’s a heterosexualist defending the closet, as the press has done with gay Hollywood celebrities since time immemorial. (“Merchant/Ivory” were big enough stars they became their own trademark. You can ask stars if they’re gay all you want. And you should.)
When I ask Ivory why this was, he comes as close to calling me a blasted fool as someone so urbane can. “Well, you just wouldn’t,” he splutters. “That is not something that an Indian Muslim would ever say publicly or in print. Ever!
“You have to remember that Ismail was an Indian citizen living in Bombay, with a deeply conservative Muslim family there. It’s not the sort of thing he was going to broadcast. Since we were so close and lived most of our lives together, I wasn’t about to undermine him”
“or get both of us killed by homophobic Muslims” (tautological, by Ivory’s admission).
One way or another, Muslims can’t be gay and get away with it, nor could they ever have; even Catholic priests can be and are (and did). You can be pro-Muslim or pro-gay, but not both, because Muslims want to kill us.