Pride & Prejudice
by Steve Basile (avatar@texas.net) (from Jan/Feb 1999 Heartbeat) 

Steve Basile is a PFLAG member in Austin, TX., and the list-owner of the PFLAG-Talk e-mail list. 
He wrote this after he spoke at at a PFLAG Banquet in Waco, TX. during Pride Weekend.

When I was asked to speak at the Annual PFLAG Awards Banquet in Waco, my first thought was amazement that tiny Waco even had a Pride Weekend, let alone a banquet and parade. Waco is not known as the tolerance capital of Texas.

As I spoke, I became aware of the tremendous differences between a large, diverse, liberal, young, highly-educated, technologically and educationally-focused city like Austin and a smaller, generally older, more working class one like Waco.

Yet the challenges are the same. Each in our own way we all face rejection, intolerance, disdain, discrimination, and the fear that life in the closet brings. We are all hobbled by the fear of being ourselves. The difference is not materially significant, it is simply one of degree.

We each do things that qualify us as heroes, even when we don't realize it. And here lies a problem: we too often focus on the insurmountable obstacles which appear to be ahead rather than looking back on those which we have overcome. We have no real sense of history in this time of compressed events, of time made compact by the speed of television, the internet, and the fast pace of modern times.

In the ‘50s it seemed impossible to imagine a time when black men would serve in the same armed forces units as white men. In the '60s it seemed impossible to imagine a time when "separate, but equal" would be a thing of the past. In the '70s, the thought that a gay congressperson would be elected, or a gay cabinet member might serve must have seemed truly "over the rainbow," but these things have come to pass, and more.

We need to be aware of how far we have come, without losing sight of how far we have to go. We must allow ourselves the luxury of enjoying the fruits of our accomplishments (no pun intended :-) without the risk of resting on our laurels. We need to pat ourselves on the back for the personal steps we make, and not chide ourselves unnecessarily for what we have not yet done. We are all at differing points on our journeys, and we are not racing any clock but that of our own lifespan.

We cannot assume that our struggle is harder, easier, more or less important than that of our brothers or sisters, wherever they live. Or that our triumphs are more significant, our setbacks more damaging, or our losses more hurtful. We must focus on what is common between us, rather than what it is that separates us. And we must share them.

And here is the really important part: We must decide today what stories we tell, what values we pass on, what culture we are helping to establish. We must help our young people understand that they are part of something bigger than each of us, and longer lasting than all of us.

What stories will our children tell? What values are we passing on to those who follow us in our struggle for equality and basic human rights? Sometimes I feel old — I’m 39. Sometimes I feel like a "gay Yoda," especially when younger gay men ask my advice on matters human or matters gay. I tell them that looks are skin deep, that the physical beauty will pass, that deeper beauty awaits those who look beneath the surface. I tell them to value friendship -- true friendship -- and to work to make friendships grow and prosper. I tell them I am more confident in the person I am today than I have ever been, in part due to the love and respect and admiration of people whose opinions I trust and value. I tell them that I am happier today than I have ever been, in part because I have begun to enjoy the gay man I have become.

I tell them to learn their history--their gay history--even though I know how damnably hard that is in the absence of any in schools. I tell them to read books like Edmund White's "A Boy's Own Story" to learn what coming out used to be like, and Kevin Jennings' "Becoming Visible" to find out what a challenge we face if we forget our past.

Mostly I tell them to talk with one another, to share what they have learned and what they have felt. To be human and to be gay means so much more than our appearance, or whom or how we love. It is part of the mosaic of our identity, part revealed, part hidden, part internal, part visible, part totally inscrutable. We cannot let who we are be defined by advertising, or those who hate us, however prevalent, or persuasive those images and messages may be.

We can each do what we can, where we can, and share that with each other. We can try to move forward, without crying too much over falling back. We can come out, or even just "peek" out when we can, and pat ourselves on the back for our courage. We can speak out to family, to co-workers, or even to congressional or parliamentary representatives whenever we are ready to do so, and then tell others that we have done so. It is by our stories that they shall know us. What stories will you tell?

 

---

Olympia PFLAG Heartbeat page ~ Olympia PFLAG homepage