What Will You Do After Purple?

Along with countless assorted friends, family and acquaintances, I am wearing purple today. We are showing our unity, striving to be a vibrant, visible sign to those out there who’re struggling to just get through high school, to get through life – at a time when so much of the world is confronting them with the worst it has to offer.

Thanks to the efforts by the folks at the It Gets Better Project, many people are sharing their stories – true stories that often start in pain, yet end in joy and beauty. Tomorrow, after you take off your purple and put it away, you still have a job to do: Share your stories. You may not be gay or ever have been bullied, but I know you have a story to tell that will help someone out there. It’s time for us to reach out.

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It didn’t take a genius to figure me out in high school. Let’s see, I was in Band, Orchestra, and Choir. I was Drum Major in the Marching Band. Not only was I in plays and musicals IN school, but I also performed with the local community players. Then there was Student Council, Scholastic Quiz Bowl, Forensics Team, and Computer Club. I was so uptight, I practically squeaked when I walked. (Oh, and a B- was nearly the end of the world…)

I knew I wasn’t like my friends, and I’d known that all my life. At 14, I finally found the words to say it to myself, and did what I considered a very brave act. I had a cassette tape recorder – some of you may have to Google that – and every now and then, I’d record the following …and then “pretend” to forget that it was on there.

“I am gay. What am I going to do about it? ...........Nothing…”

Of course, I never did forget to erase it; it was just a stupid game. Stupid, but somehow it got me through. Even if it wasn’t truly brave, it felt brave to me – and that’s all that mattered. This was the early 1980s in very rural Northern New York State; being gay was NOT something you talked about with anyone, except as crude locker room jokes at the expense of others.

Sure enough, I got called every imaginable name in high school, and sure enough, it hurt like hell. But somehow, I managed to hold onto hope and the knowledge that someday - not too far in the future – I’d be able to get on with life. (College isn’t perfect, but it’s a hell of a lot better than high school!)

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Thanks to the incredible outpouring from breathtakingly fabulous people, YouTube is now packed with hundreds of stories of survival, of anguish and support and love and friendship. Rather than dwelling on just how awful high school is, there are some essential things we need you to know.

It gets better. I know it must seem cliché now, but I have to tell you – looking back, I could never have hoped that life would turn out this well. There will be wonderful, deep abiding friendships that last longer than you’ve been alive so far. You’ll make mistakes, you’ll be terrified of admitting you need someone to lean on, and you’ll be wildly passionate about a hundred different causes. You’ll visit places where you’ll feel truly, madly, deeply at home in a way that you may never be able to articulate to anyone. Some of your friends will become the best family you could ever imagine – and some of your family will become your most ardent supporters. And you’ll find your own way of getting through.

Oh…and there will be love. You’ll fall in love – and you’ll get your heart broken. And you’ll fall in love again. And along the way, you’ll find out how remarkable it is to love and to be loved, just for being you.

So, hold on. Be here for the good stuff. Be truly you. Stick around and see how much better it gets. No one’s promising that it won’t suck along the way, and no one’s saying that life as an adult is a piece of cake; just remember that we’re out here – and we are LIVING proof that life gets so much better.

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So, to all of us: tomorrow, we might not be wearing purple, but we need to, must carry this feeling with us. There is no wrong time to reach out. There is no bad time to let others know you care. Share your struggles and triumphs. Be a good friend and a great example. Let your children catch you doing good things. Dream big and dare to love. Open your minds to a world that is better today than it was yesterday, but not as great as it will be tomorrow.

And be there, so these kids can be here to see that it gets so much better.

Being Away...

So, after 3+ months, I am posting again.

It's been quite a time. In April, just after my last post, The Beau and I decided to take the plunge and finally move in together. As he has a fabulous condo and I had been renting a ramshackle flat next to a fairly grungy bar (not in the Nirvana sense, either), we have consolidated lives at the condo. (It's going very well. No dead bodies yet, no massive meltdowns - OK, one moderately hysterical one, but it couldn't be helped.)

For those of you who've read old posts of mine, you know that I have been a member of the United Methodist Church for most of my life. A friend of mine jokes that both she and I were Methodist in vitro. But recently, I've taken a break. A sabbatical, if you will, although the irony of the etymology of that word is painfully apparent.

You see, as a matter of official doctrine, the United Methodist Church (UMC) is OK with having gay congregants, accepting their time and donations, but they won't ordain them. Well, that's not quite fair - they subscribe to the liturgical version of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell".

So, if you don't tell your bishop or other church leader that you are a well-adjusted, caring homosexual in a loving, committed relationship, you can perhaps have the opportunity of being posted to lead a Methodist congregation and continue to serve the community at large.

Just don't be happy or a good role model or open and sharing of your experiences. Keep that to yourself, please.

Or we'll have to dispatch you from the pulpit.

Wait.

It gets better.

The following is directly from archives of umc.org, and while I acknowledge that each section is quoted out of its greater context, it is no less troubling. Until recent years, I had only been vaguely aware of the Church's official stance; seeing it in print is...well, heartbreaking.

For nearly 20 years, church law as recorded in the Book of Discipline has included a ban on the ordination of "self-avowed practicing homosexuals" and has espoused "fidelity in marriage and celibacy in singleness." And while acknowledging the "sacred worth" of homosexuals, church law condemns homosexual practices as "incompatible with Christian teaching."

And my life is incompatible with Christian teaching? I thought I'd lived a fairly decent Christian life - now, I don't want you to think that I have lost faith. My faith is strong and sure and deeply personal. But I have lost some great measure of faith in the UMC. And that hurts too.

The dichotomy of espousing fidelity in marriage but denying marriage rites or even union blessings to gay couples is at the very least contradictory. I don't know if any of you've ever come across this reference, but it speaks louder to me now than when I first heard it 20 years ago:

"We have forced gay people into the red-light districts, forced them to meet each other in bars and lurid places - then we call them promiscuous sinners." Adele Starr, founding President of Parents and Friends of Lesbians and Gays (PFLAG)

Jus this week in the weekly newsletter, our new choir master wrote an eloquent appeal to the congregation to consider joining the choir. I do miss the music, but not in the way that I thought I might. There was a time in my life, not so long ago, that despite whatever I was facing in my life, however deeply my faith and belief was challenged, that music lifted me up. I cannot begin to count the times in my life at Rayne that were full of grace through music. But for now, those strains have been silenced.

And for now, I am here. Not so very far away, but no longer where I was.

Peace.