Twenty-one years ago today, I made an audacious and daring move: I wore a T-shirt bearing an androgynous figure stepping out of a closet, promulgating National Coming Out Day. I was 17 years old, a senior in high school, coming of age in a small Midwestern town that enjoined conformity rather than diversity. It was 1989. Gay characters weren't even given a passing thought on TV. If you ever saw one on the silver screen, the character was almost certainly a caricature of the effeminate, flamboyant gay man, practically half clad in drag. Before I escaped that God-forsaken town, I had been supplicated for, prayed over, exorcised, condemned, assaulted, insulted, and ostracized. The road was not easy; it was treacherous.
Twenty-one years later, I celebrated the day in a much different way: I spent it beside an incredible man, truly proud to be who I am. What will become of him and I only God knows. But, what I know is this: It's 2010, and we've come a long way, baby! When he dropped a piece of lettuce, dripping with a mysteriously delectable Japanese dressing, into his lap at supper this evening—a truly endearing faux pas, I wasn't the least bit embarrassed to reach over with my napkin and wipe the dressing off his forearm. Times are much different. Having said that, I must concede that, unfortunately, we have an even longer way to go still. Just this past week, I had Facebook friends who were shocked to ascertain from my HRC status updates that it's still legal to be fired in 29 states simply because you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered (GLBT). Today, at the Renaissance Festival, I watched my adorable date make pass after pass to dip his hand in hot wax, making a cast of his hand splayed in the traditional Vulcan greeting. As this happened, a straight man, presumably married to the woman at his side, was studying us from across the way, practically glaring. His discomfort was palpable. And then there were the ladies sitting across the Hibachi-style table from us at supper, sporting their scripture-quoting T-shirts, who hardly uttered another word after I touched my date. As of the time I write this, we can still only be married by law in five states and the District of Columbia; we can be discharged from the military for being gay, lesbian, or bisexual; we have candidates campaigning for office who feel patently justified in spewing hateful rhetoric against us; six boys, presumably gay, recently took their own lives as a result of being bullied; and heinous hate crimes are still perpetrated all too frequently. Yes, we have a very long way to go still.
But today, I will stop and celebrate my GLBT family's little, persistent victories over the last two decades. I will take joy in the fact that I can be openly who I am in a way I could not be 21 years ago. I will revel in having an amazing guy by my side, who was my dream date, and I didn't have to be ashamed. There is no more awesome feeling than coming into your own and being comfortable in your own skin.
Today, I also celebrate on a deeply personal level. Family, friends, and anyone familiar with my short-lived, initial foray into blogging, Musings and Rants from the Gay Guero, knows that I separated from my husband at the beginning of the current year—by his choice. This year has been a literal fight for survival. And, I give all the credit to God for sustaining me through the darkest days of my life. Today, I am free from the tyranny of grief and dispair. A furtive IM via Google Chat, sent in the final hours of last night, from the ex, whom I've heard neither heads nor tails from in the last several months, corroborated this sentiment for me. There was a distinct absence of longing, supplanted by the desire to be left the hell alone. Today, I am free and ready to entertain new possibilities for my life. Today, I open my arms wide, ready to embrace the world. Today, I am ready to love again.
For a couple of months now, I've struggled with how to commence this blog. Today, the answer was painfully obvious: Begin where you're at in the present moment! And, where I'm at in the present moment is a very good place to be. It is a beginning ... the beginning of the rest of my life. In the Jewish tradition, we have a beracha (i.e., blessing) that is said at all beginnings, the Shehechiyanu. Tonight seems a most apropos time for the Shehechiyanu:
Amen.
Twenty-one years later, I celebrated the day in a much different way: I spent it beside an incredible man, truly proud to be who I am. What will become of him and I only God knows. But, what I know is this: It's 2010, and we've come a long way, baby! When he dropped a piece of lettuce, dripping with a mysteriously delectable Japanese dressing, into his lap at supper this evening—a truly endearing faux pas, I wasn't the least bit embarrassed to reach over with my napkin and wipe the dressing off his forearm. Times are much different. Having said that, I must concede that, unfortunately, we have an even longer way to go still. Just this past week, I had Facebook friends who were shocked to ascertain from my HRC status updates that it's still legal to be fired in 29 states simply because you're gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgendered (GLBT). Today, at the Renaissance Festival, I watched my adorable date make pass after pass to dip his hand in hot wax, making a cast of his hand splayed in the traditional Vulcan greeting. As this happened, a straight man, presumably married to the woman at his side, was studying us from across the way, practically glaring. His discomfort was palpable. And then there were the ladies sitting across the Hibachi-style table from us at supper, sporting their scripture-quoting T-shirts, who hardly uttered another word after I touched my date. As of the time I write this, we can still only be married by law in five states and the District of Columbia; we can be discharged from the military for being gay, lesbian, or bisexual; we have candidates campaigning for office who feel patently justified in spewing hateful rhetoric against us; six boys, presumably gay, recently took their own lives as a result of being bullied; and heinous hate crimes are still perpetrated all too frequently. Yes, we have a very long way to go still.
But today, I will stop and celebrate my GLBT family's little, persistent victories over the last two decades. I will take joy in the fact that I can be openly who I am in a way I could not be 21 years ago. I will revel in having an amazing guy by my side, who was my dream date, and I didn't have to be ashamed. There is no more awesome feeling than coming into your own and being comfortable in your own skin.
Today, I also celebrate on a deeply personal level. Family, friends, and anyone familiar with my short-lived, initial foray into blogging, Musings and Rants from the Gay Guero, knows that I separated from my husband at the beginning of the current year—by his choice. This year has been a literal fight for survival. And, I give all the credit to God for sustaining me through the darkest days of my life. Today, I am free from the tyranny of grief and dispair. A furtive IM via Google Chat, sent in the final hours of last night, from the ex, whom I've heard neither heads nor tails from in the last several months, corroborated this sentiment for me. There was a distinct absence of longing, supplanted by the desire to be left the hell alone. Today, I am free and ready to entertain new possibilities for my life. Today, I open my arms wide, ready to embrace the world. Today, I am ready to love again.
For a couple of months now, I've struggled with how to commence this blog. Today, the answer was painfully obvious: Begin where you're at in the present moment! And, where I'm at in the present moment is a very good place to be. It is a beginning ... the beginning of the rest of my life. In the Jewish tradition, we have a beracha (i.e., blessing) that is said at all beginnings, the Shehechiyanu. Tonight seems a most apropos time for the Shehechiyanu:
Baruch Atah Adonai Eloheinu Melech ha-Olam
shehechiyanu vekiyamanu vehegianu lazman ha-zeh.
shehechiyanu vekiyamanu vehegianu lazman ha-zeh.
Blessed are You, Lord our God, King of the universe,
who has kept us alive, and sustained us,
and enabled us to reach this moment.
who has kept us alive, and sustained us,
and enabled us to reach this moment.
Amen.
