Fear, belonging, then Pride

Today marks the start of Pride Month in the United States. And I don't feel like celebrating. Nor have I really ever, as I've always had an ambivalent relationship with this month-long focus.?

?Last week a colleague made a statement that triggered something in me that I never quite realized: I have lived my life in fear, so how can I really feel proud??

?Let me explain. As a young boy, I didn't witness any positive associations with "homosexuality" -- just offensive stereotypes. Growing up in a middle-class Jewish family, I occasionally heard the yiddish term “faygeleh,” which wasn't exactly a word of affirmation. Nevertheless, I had friends and grew up without any real complaints, but I knew something about me was different. Like so many, I was afraid to explore my unknown, afraid of what I may find.?

It was when my family moved states during my high school years that I began to recognize something ‘different’ in myself, the same way some guys at my school saw it within me. Behind my back I’d hear whispered slurs and accusations. My most fearful moment came on graduation day, one that most students look forward to. As I sat among my graduating class, I worried that when my name was called, some guy would sneer "fag" loud enough for me and others to hear. I was on edge, tense and anxious, until my name was called with only the requisite polite smattering of applause. A sigh of relief before closing that chapter.

?And so began the next one. College wasn't the time of exploration or discovery as it should have been. I worked hard to achieve the happiness quotient that was perhaps my mom's and not mine:?Get good grades. Get a job. (Here's where it stopped) Have a girlfriend. Get married. Buy a house. Give my parents grandchildren. I still pretended I was straight. Parties, especially frat parties, were particularly trying. I feared who I was. I pretended to be someone I was not.

?It took a long time for me to come out. Way too long. At one job, where I had a wonderful group of colleagues and often traveled across the U.S. to see them, my fear was simple. If they knew I was gay, would they hug me when they saw me? Or even just hesitate? Would just knowing I was gay shake the foundation of every relationship I had???

?During my very first international trip -- to London -- I finally got my courage up to visit my first gay bar. Fear kicked in, as I walked around the block for at least 15 laps. I finally went in -- but just felt out of place or like I didn't belong. Ironically, the next day, I ran into a guy who I exchanged glances with during my time there without saying a word. I didn't let my fear get to me when we met in South Kensington.

?Even when I finally came out, I didn't think I really belonged. I never went to Fire Island or Provincetown. I never had a big group of gay friends. I couldn't casually brunch in Chelsea. I felt like an outsider, looking in.?

?Until I met the man who has now been my husband for 11 years. Whose closeted experience was close to mine, except he grew up in a very Catholic country where the closet was perhaps more crowded.

?With Joey by my side, our lives are fulfilling. But our world isn't. And in the United States, it seems like we have lost momentum. #LGBTQ progress has halted and young people children today may be encountering the same experience I did at Ridgefield High, hoping and praying that they’ll make it to graduation peacefully (along with all of the other worries they have).?

We gained a Vice President in 2016 who was against my marriage, yet ran on a ticket with someone who had disregard for his marriages. The rise of anti-gay rethoric was getting louder and incidents of violence against LGBTQ people grew.

?In 2022, we have more anti-LGBTQ legistation on the books or being proposed than ever before. And we're silencing students, teachers and their parents in schools.?

?For me, Don't Say Gay is about erasing us out of existence and forcing us back into the closets we long outgrew.?

Recently, I was part of a group of LGBTQ people from my industry who met for an initial call about an ERG. It was great to be part of this discussion, but at the same time, the concept of fear was evident in all of our introductions.?

?I'm tired of being afraid. And I'm angry that so many so-called leaders and citizens don't believe people like me fully belong in our communities.?

?So, this month, waving a flag also comes with an added obligation (yes, marginalized populations always have these burdens). An obligation to action. And I know it is exhausting. Because as a queer population, we are everyone, so at times, it's hard to know where to focus our efforts. Because all of our collective problems -- from systemic racism to children being killed in schools to the devastating impact of climate change to women's rights being taken away -- are massive.?

?So, here are four simple ways to take action:

1. We are a diverse population, not a singular community. We need to understand that our perspectives may not be every queer person's. Get to know more people who fit under the initials of our descriptives. I find one of the best ways is through reading about others' experiences. In spite of book bans, read more books by queer authors and with queer subjects. Read about queer history. And when you are done with those books, donate them to your local libraries who may pass them along to those who may want them. Let's start a Queer Book Revolution.?

2. We must have better representation. According to the Victory Fund, we need more than 35,000 elected office holders in local, state and national offices to be fully represented, a monumental task, but one I am eager to be part of. Get to know candidates. Make phone calls. Send postcards. Knock on doors. And be sure to vote and get others to do so.

3. We still are subject to slurs and innuendos. Micro-aggressions run rampant and unchecked. So speak out, especially when you see it happen to someone else. Anger alone or hiding won't change things. If it happens in the workplace, speak to your HR representatives. If you see it happen in companies you support, lodge a complaint. Or better yet, use your wallet well.

4. We all need support and inspiration. Check in on one another. Don't merely ask "how are you?" But be more specific. We need to back one another up. Joey and I may not have children in Florida schools, but recognize how crushing that law is. Check in with even those you think are strong.?

?I was taught that America meant something special. Now I question that. I fear that our Supreme Court may take away our guaranteed right to be wed (even tho, I will still be married in my state). I fear that we'll see more legislation and laws. And I fear that we will see more bullying, more mental health issues and ultimately, more deaths.?

?Will we ever belong equally in America? I can't give up that quest. And I'm proud of those who fight day in and day out so that can be our reality one day. And then I'll be able to be truly proud.