Why do you begin the book by saying “everyone covers”?

Because everyone is outside of the mainstream in some way, we all experience pressure to cover. Famous examples of covering are all around us: Ramón Estévez covered his ethnicity when he changed his name to Martin Sheen, as did Krishna Bhanji when he changed his name to Ben Kingsley. Margaret Thatcher covered as a woman when she went to a voice coach to lower the pitch of her voice. Helen Keller had her natural eyes (one of which protruded) replaced with brilliant blue glass ones. FDR always made sure he was behind a desk before his Cabinet entered to ensure that his wheelchair was hidden. The force of the word “covering” is that it gives us a term for something we all do, but haven’t found a name for yet.

What’s wrong with trying to fit into the mainstream?

Oftentimes, nothing. Some forms of assimilation are and always will be necessary. But assimilation has a dark side as well, because it can exact immense psychic costs from people. As a specialist in antidiscrimination law, I was struck by the costs of covering when I looked at the most recent generation of civil rights cases. People who refused to cover, and who instead honestly or proudly expressed their identities, were severely punished. Latino workers were fired for lapsing into Spanish in English-only workplaces, women who didn’t mute the fact that they were mothers suffered demotions, Sikhs who refused to remove their turbans after 9/11 were the victims of hate crimes, and gay people who engaged in displays of same-sex affection with their partners lost custody of their children.

At one point early in the book you say that we are at a “transitional moment in how Americans discriminate.” Can you elaborate?

The transition is between two generations. In the old generation, discrimination targeted groups as a whole -- excluding all racial minorities, women, gays, religious minorities, and individuals with disabilities. The triumph of modern civil rights is that such group-based exclusions are now relatively rare. But now a new generation of discrimination has risen to take its place, targeting not the group as a whole, but the part of the group that refuses to fit into mainstream norms. This new generation of discrimination punishes people who fail to cover.

Does the law protect us from this new generation of discrimination?

For the most part, no. Our current civil rights laws protect being a person with a particular identity much more than doing things associated with that identity. So if a woman gets fired from her workplace for being African-American, she will win her suit in a hot second. But if she gets fired for a cultural trait associated with that identity, like wearing cornrows, she will lose. Similarly, if a rabbi gets discharged from the military for being Jewish, he will win. But if he gets separated for doing something associated with Judaism, like wearing a yarmulke, he will lose.

In an age where many Americans are experiencing compassion fatigue for civil rights, is it likely that courts will expand civil rights protections to protect people against covering?

I think courts are feeling very skittish right now. And frankly, I don’t blame them. In our incredibly diverse society, it’s dangerous for the courts to be in the business of picking and choosing favorites among groups. But courts can still protect individuals from covering demands, by relying on liberties that all Americans hold. For example, the Supreme Court struck down a statute in 2003 that criminalized same-sex sexual intimacy. But it didn’t decide the case as a gay-rights case. Rather, it said that we all -- straight or gay -- have a right to control our intimate sexual lives. I love this approach because it protects our right to be different, but by focusing on what unites us as Americans rather than on what divides us. I know many people are very pessimistic about a Court that is moving in a more conservative direction. But the opinion I just described was written by a Reagan appointee.

Are there notable people who refused to cover? If yes, why are these people to be admired?

There are lots of people who have refused to cover, many of whom are heroes of mine. Senator Barak Obama was told throughout his political career that he couldn’t have two “weird” names if he wanted to connect with the American people. Obama’s refusal to change his name is just one symptom of his general pride in his heritage and his comfort in his own skin. Like Obama, many public figures like Oprah Winfrey, Margaret Cho, Ellen DeGeneres, or Andrew Sullivan, all seem to be prominent in part because they’re so comfortable with themselves. I also think here of the plaintiffs who refused to duck their heads and go away when confronted with the demand to conform, even when threatened with the loss of their jobs or families. Anyone who is different -- which is to say everyone -- owes these people a huge debt for showing us that there are many different ways to be a human being.

What do you hope to achieve with this book?

My hope is that we can put that word “covering” in the public lexicon so we can have a national conversation about it. As Gloria Steinem once said, oftentimes we need to find a word -- like “sexual harassment” -- for a social problem before we can see it and solve it. I want to make “covering” as much of our common vocabulary as “passing” or “the closet.” I want people to think about how and why they cover. And if they find the demand to cover to be oppressive, I want to encourage them to resist it, not just in the courts, but, perhaps more importantly, in their everyday lives.

What distinguishes this book from other books on the subject?

Three things. First, the book defies easy political characterization. It has a progressive agenda, but it is also critical of traditional civil rights. The solution that it proposes is one that focuses on universal rights more than on groups, and also one that focuses on culture more than on law. Second, and relatedly, the book is wide-ranging in its analysis. It isn’t just about one group. By discussing racial minorities, women, gays, religious minorities, and individuals with disabilities, it shows that covering is about us all. Finally, the book is highly personal in tone, interleaving memoir with argument.

Why do you bring so much of your personal story into the book?

I think we write the books we want to read. In including a lot of stories -- my own and those of others -- I wanted to find the voice that I most respond to as a reader. I also felt that in writing a book on the importance of authenticity, it was important to risk some authenticity of my own. Surprisingly, the “authentic self” I struggled hardest to reveal in the book was not my gay self, but the writerly self I left behind when I went to law school. So writing the book taught me that we, and not just the arguments we make, are always works in progress.