This second act was made possible when Frye came out at 38. “I tried to be a straight man,” he confesses. “But for me, being in the closet was a dishonest way to live.” So today he is out and proud, splitting time between his home in Portland and Den-ver, where his four children, ages 8 to 16, live. “I never

want to go more than three days without seeing my kids,” he admits.That, however, did happen this past summer when he returned to

Brazil, a place he had visited as a Mormon missionary 20 years ago. His second act there was not one of converting, but compassion—for both the country and its people. He led a group of dental professionals, providing care to those in rural villages, many of whom had never been to a dentist before. Three dentists performed more than 500 procedures on that trip,

one that Frye says he definitely plans to do again. But Dr. Raymond, as he prefers to be called, has even helped others

have their own second acts, like earlier this year, when he provided a complete makeover for a victim of domestic violence. “Her teeth were so bad she covered her mouth when she spoke,” he recalls. “Her attitude had already changed. She no longer considered herself a victim. We just gave her a smile to match.”

Far from being “professional suicide,” Frye has proven to be an astute businessman. Earlier this year, he created his Icing at-home teeth-whit-ening system, though closer to his heart is Bling For Life, which will sell crystals to raise money for teen suicide prevention.

“As a Mormon, I have seen firsthand the high suicide rate among gay and lesbian teens. My own daughter told me that if she were a lesbian, she would want to commit suicide,” he says. “That hurts. But I know that religion—and society—can put that kind of pressure on teenagers.

“My goal,” he continues, “is to be an advocate for people who can’t stand up for themselves.” That alone is reason enough to make anyone smile. — MARK SCHULTE

“I THINK I’ve learned the lesson that you can’t go back in time to change things. I look back on my college days and really wish I hadn’t given up tennis,” explains photographer Jeff Sheng, who, at 18, hung up his tennis racket because of the homophobia he felt in the sports world. “I just didn’t feel comfortable being out.”

It was this loss—something that still

impacts Sheng more than a decade

later—that eventually led him to pick

up a camera and, even more impor-

tant, to shoot “Fearless,” a photo

series of more than 100 out student

athletes that, in addition to providing

some serious eye candy (hello, stu-

dent body!), he hopes will empower

gay student athletes. “It was my

gesture to try to start a dialogue on a

very difficult subject,” Sheng says.

In the four years since he began

exhibiting “Fearless,” Sheng has man-

aged to hit more than 40 high schools

and colleges, where he has shown

his portraits and given speeches

on homophobia in sports. He’s also

exhibited his work at the 2010 Winter Olympics

Pride House, the 2009 International Conference

on LGBT Human Rights in Copenhagen and ESPN

headquarters.

As word got out about “Fearless,” Sheng

received inspiration for his next major project.

“Several service members started writing to

me—some of them anonymously—saying they had

seen [“Fearless”] and wondered if I had ever con-

sidered doing a photo series on “Don’t Ask, Don’t

Tell.” And though

Sheng was definitely

interested in doing

the project, he was

hesitant. After all, how

do you photograph

someone without

blowing their cover

and potentially ruining

their military career?

It took him a year to

figure it out.

Some 90,000

frequent-flier miles,

countless mili-

tary base-adjacent

hotel rooms and two

maxed-out credit cards

later, Sheng has shot

more than 40 active-

duty service members

for his series, “Don’t

Ask, Don’t Tell,” which opened to the public in

September at the Kaycee Olsen Gallery in Los

Angeles. He’s also published photos from the

series in Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell, Vols. 1 and 2—both

of which were published this year (with Vol. 3,

a wrap-up photo book, due out next year). The

photo books (available at dadtbook.com) feature

full-color portraits of GLBT military personnel—

with their faces artistically hidden—as well as

letters, e-mails and essays highlighting the stories

of loneliness, alienation and heartache caused by

the discriminatory policy.

“I really hope that I am not just putting

pretty pictures on the wall, but that I am making

people think and hopefully even changing the

minds of people who are homophobic or who

might have a wrong impression of the LGBT com-

munity.”

And as for his lost first love, Sheng manages

to find time—despite a hectic speaking engage-

ment schedule, five to six days a week in the stu-

dio and a part-time teaching gig at University of

California, Santa Barbara—to pick up a racket and

play tennis with the boys—in an all-gay league.

Game, set, match! —JOHN HOBBS

Dr. Raymond Frye T H E S M I L E M A K E R

THIS is one doc who should love second acts because, it seems, that’s when Dr. Raymond Frye really shines. Take his dental practice. His first one ended when his partners found out he was gay and told him that to remain in business with him would be “professional suicide.” Ousted from the company he founded, for his second act he created Bling Dental, which in just over a year has grown to 1,500 patients, including celebrities such as Mackenzie Phillips and Taylor Dayne, who travel to Portland’s artsy Pearl District for treatment.

Jeff Sheng T H E S H A R P S H O O T E R

39 N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 0

43 N O V E M B E R 2 0 1 0

IF YOU want to make it in Hollywood, you’d better get used to having a door or two slammed in your face. Just ask out filmmaker Quentin Lee.

“I’ve been getting rejection slips since I was 16,

so I’ve learned ‘no’ is a given,” says Lee. “But the

funny thing about Hollywood is that you hear

both noes and yeses—that are really noes. I’ve

just learned to be happy with the process and

not with the result, which is often something you

cannot control.”

The 40-year-old Hong Kong-born direc-

tor—now an L.A. resident—says even during his

tumultuous teen years he knew he’d be a film-

maker. After high school, Lee applied to UCLA but

wasn’t accepted. He ended up, instead, studying

English at Berkeley, and upon completion again

applied to UCLA—and again was rejected.

These rejections emboldened the college

grad—who went on to earn a master’s degree in

English from Yale—to start his film career anyway.

“I thought, ‘I’m not going to wait until I get into

film school to make films,’ so I started making an

experimental short film with a camcorder I bought

for $500.” That short, To Ride A Cow, got Lee no-

ticed on the film festival circuit. And finally, after

yet another application and a brief wait list, Lee

got the call he was waiting for: He had gotten into

UCLA, where the student director began making a

series of experimental shorts.

“When I first started off—because at that

time there were no stories about gay Asians—I

wanted to make different short stories and films

telling gay Asian stories,” Lee says. Since then,

the storyteller has directed a steady stream of

gay Asian films (Drift, Ethan Mao, Little Love) as

well as stories about the more general Asian-

American experience (Shopping For Fangs, The

People I’ve Slept With).

Lee has managed to use his growing clout

to shine a spotlight on other Asian-American

filmmakers with the ID Film Fest, a festival he

started along with his friend Koji Steven Sakai.

The purpose of the L.A.-based event, which just

finished its third year in October, is to explore and

celebrate identity crisis in the Asian/Asian Pacific

Islander community.

Next up on the director’s desk is After Me,

Disaster, a gay-themed serial-killer thriller. Though

he’s on task 50 hours a week running Margin

Films, Lee still manages to squeeze in a good

book, as well as some time with friends and even

a hip-hop class or two. “I’m not very good at it,”

he confesses with a laugh. “I’ve been in beginning

hip-hop for five years.” But they say nothing worth

doing comes easy. And if anyone knows that, it’s

Quentin Lee. —JOHN HOBBS

Rick Jacobs T H E C O U R A G E O U S C A M PA I G N E R

“IF WE did not have courage, we would not have freedom,” Rick Jacobs, founder and chair of the Courage Campaign, declares. With more than 700,000 followers, the Courage Campaign is an on-line landing strip for grassroots activists looking to sway public opinion in favor of LGBT equality. “Courage is the ability to stand up, command and act for what’s right even when it’s not popular,” Jacobs says. “I would say a few different times in my life I had to have courage. One of them was when I quit a job. I was 32, vice president and assistant to the chairman of Occidental Petroleum Corporation. I quit because I wanted to go out and build something on my own. It would have been a whole lot easier, financially, to stay right where I was. Leaving took courage, even though some may say it was sheer and utter stupidity.”

Measuring success isn’t how Jacobs prefers to spend his time, and he certainly isn’t afraid to roll up his sleeves and lead. His live-blogging during this year’s Prop. 8 trial brought in thousands of hits and proved the power and impact of digital media.

“I think 2010 is going to be looked at as a very crucial time in the LGBT equality movement,” he says. “I see how 2010 began, with the federal Prop. 8 trial, and I see the strong community that we have built since. By far, we are not done, but from the campaign’s point of view, I can see people are clearly ready to take action.”

So, what does Jacobs have in store for 2011? The project is called Testimony, and it’s intended to

open doors by putting faces to titles such as “gay” and “lesbian.” But, he’s quick to point out, now is the time to make a difference.

“If you care about your life being full and fulfilled, you want to take away any anchors that are holding you back from having a full life,” he says. “If you want to do that, you have to be willing to get involved on some level. That doesn’t mean you have to show up somewhere. It doesn’t mean you have to give money or be a full-time activist, but you certainly have to tell your family and your friends who you are or who you love. Once you do that for yourself, you may see that you want to help do the same thing for other people.” —JASON GUTIERREZ

Quentin Lee T H E D O E S N ’ T-TA K E - N O - F O R - A N - A N S W E R M A N