LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth |
Coming out...twice |
by Eric C. Peterson |
I was 25 before I realized I was gay. Perhaps it was growing up in a conservative, Republican, military, Catholic household where being gay wasn't an option. But whatever it was, I'm glad. Deep in denial, I survived growing up with few battle scars and lots of happy memories. When I did come out, I was financially independent and surrounded by friends who I knew would accept this new detail. Actually, they'd been waiting for me to come to terms with myself. Everybody said, "It's about time." So I ended 25 years of confusion and worry about anyone "finding out." I was on my own, and though I was certain my parents would eventually support me (they surprised me with almost immediate support), I knew I could take care of myself. By coming out, this liberal could shed his identity as the straight white manthe Oppressor with a capital "O," responsible for all manner of social evils. While I gave up certain privileges when I began to identify as gay, I felt I'd gained the moral high groundand could battle for equality without feeling like an imposter. In fact, in my fledgling new identity, I felt that while other minorities had problems, no group was maligned so maliciously as gaysafter all, many politicians courted votes solely on "protecting families from the homosexual menace" and little else. What's worse, a lot of them won. "Doctor" Laura couldn't speak about blacks, Hispanics, women, or Jews the way she spoke about gays. And states were passing pre-emptive laws to deny federal recognition of same-sex marriages, should such things ever actually come into existence. I was the first to shout that in America, gays were more misunderstood and hated than anyone. I accepted my position on the lowest rung of the minority totem pole. Concurrently, I was having the time of my life. I moved to Dupont Circle and enjoyed a social life as never before... including weekending in Rehoboth. However, I feared coming out in my workplace, a conservative consulting firm. When I first came out to myself, the words "business" and "casual" weren't even uttered in the same breath in our hallways. Our largest client was and is the U.S. Department of Defense. After realizing I was gay, I figured I wouldn't stay with the company long. With integrity more important than a paycheck, I'd move on shortly. Fast forward. Six years later, I'm still therefor several reasons. First, to my office mate, a cool straight guy, the whole "gay thing" was a non-issueand his attitude was infectious. Without formal announcement or fanfare, it came to be known I was gay. No big deal. More importantly, two years later, our Chairman announced full benefits for same-sex domestic partners. It didn't mean anything practical to me since I was single at the time (and still looking for Mr. Right, but that's a completely different story). But it was gratifying to know that the company would take care of me and my family, once I was happily husbanded. Then, I heard about GLOBE, the firm's new employee forum. GLOBE provided networking for Gay and Lesbian employees and a liaison with senior management. I volunteered for the GLOBE Board, after which I was officially "out" at work. From there, my commitment to diversity caught my boss's eye and he offered me a chance to attend some retreats in Airlie, VAsponsored by the organization Healing the Heart of Diversity. He'd attended the retreats and told me to " just walk in with an open mind." While it all sounded a little touchy-feely, I was committed to trying to make life a little better for gays, so I signed on. My first retreat was March 2000and that's when I came out again... this time right back as a white man. At the retreat, I listened to a middle-class black woman speak about lessons she'd passed on to her teenage sons. "Before you put the key into the ignition, take your wallet out of your jacket and put it onto the seat next to you. When a cop pulls you overnot if, but whenyou don't have to reach into your coat for your license. If they see you reaching, you'll get a gun in your face; when you go to the mall, keep your receipts in the bag with your purchases. That way, when Security pulls you asidenot if, but when you can prove you didn't steal anything." A woman told of sexual abuse by a classmateand how her female friends scolded her for following him home. A Muslim told of vandalism at a mosque; a woman told us of learning the meaning of the word "nigger" when it was used against her at age four. And I told a few stories of my own. It's difficult to describe the life-changing impact of these retreats without resorting to the overzealous, "touchy-feely" language that used to turn me off. But the personal change in me is undeniable. I walked into that first conference believing that no one had it worse than gays. Me, who'd never been hungry in my life, or who'd never had reason to believe a policeman would put a gun to my head based on who or what I am. The message I got was that "Doctor" Laura and anti-gay politicos aside, I'm still a white guy. Just because racism isn't the law anymore, doesn't mean that racism (or sexism, or anti-Semitism) doesn't exist. It doesn't mean that these and other "isms" aren't institutionalized in this country in sadly, perfectly legal ways. I now realize I was never the lowest on the totem pole. But the biggest message was one I'd heard before, but could now apply. "If you aren't part of the solution, you're part of the problem." So, much to my dismay, I must now reclaim at least part of the accountability that goes with being a white man. By being aware of the privilege that goes with being white and male, I can be my own instrument for change. And as a member of society (American, white, male, gay, and the Rehoboth "weekender" society), I can use my growing awareness of the problems faced by all minorities to spread the word about how sensitive to diversity issues we must be. I still believe in gay rights. We deserve freedom from discrimination and fear. We deserve the right to marry and enjoy the legal benefits of such unions if we choose. And while I wouldn't want to use it, I stand up for our right to join the military if we want to. I'm only 7 years older than when I first came out, but I hope I'm a good deal wiserat the very least, I now know what I don't know. I was just accepted into the Facilitation Leadership Partners Program, the sequel to Healing the Heart of Diversity. I look forward to having my worldview shattered again... and again, and again. As many times as it takes. For more information about Healing the Heart of Diversity, visit their website at www.healingtheheart.org. |
LETTERS From CAMP Rehoboth, Vol. 12, No. 01, February 1, 2002. |