These are, arguably, the two most damaging words that have guided my life. For those who are not from a Mormon background, the reference is to what Lucifer says to Adam (Eve's husband) in the Garden of Eden when he is told that he is standing there naked and that Elohim is about to enter the scene. It speaks volumes to those who get to see this as a beginning reference not only to nakedness being referenced as a really bad thing, but also introduces us to the concept of shame.
So, in the past 48 hours, I have been introduced through the media to a person named Robbie Rogers, a professional soccer player, who, at age 25, has just come out. Stemming from Baltimore Raven's Brendon Ayanbadejo's recent call for ANY professional athlete to come out, we have finally arrived to the time in this Latter Day Civil Rights story when the proverbial Berlin Wall is about to give way. But what has been more stunning to me, personally, is the price I myself have paid for living, as Robbie has stated: "For the past 25 year I have been afraid, afraid to show whom I really was because of fear. Fear that judgment and rejection would hold me back from my dreams and aspirations. Fear that my loved ones would be farthest from me if they knew my secret. Fear that my secret would get in the way of my dreams."
Upon further inspection, it has dawned on me, just as THIS morning has broken, that I have paid a much heavier price for living in that very fear than I have realized. It turns out that this realization is furthermore linked to the irony of the calendar - because it is exactly 25 years ago this coming week that I met Mormon missionaries as a graduate student at Harvard's Graduate School of Education, changed my own theological affinities, but much more importantly, erased any and all dreams of continuing to write my own script - called life. Instead, I went with someone else's. Who absolutely convinced me that they knew better.
Here is the collateral damage, then. First, I traded in the privilege of living my life as I saw fit. The problem back in 1988, though, was that I had not yet found any particular direction in which to travel, and had just recently lost any sense of professional ambition. This, at Harvard? Yes. I had come to see, in my studies to become an administrator at a private school somewhere in America, that I was screaming unprepared for such a position. Not intellectually though. I was already busy drawing up rather impressive documents to become the Headmaster of the school I had departed for the year of studies. No, it was all about my personal life. Knowing that I was a gay man, how was I possibly supposed to continue on a path towards Headmastership with my "dirty little secret"? I was dead in the water. I was 31. I would have to find another path. And Mormonism was this new found answer for "Passing Strange" - for the privilege of being seen as normal so that I could "carry on". Life, then, became a series of professional thrusts in which I would find works for which I was deemed capable while, at the same time, avoiding any places in which I might be outed. Because, in education (or so I felt) I would be doomed. Or worse.
Well, even without the quarter century (oh, hell, let's just call it 40 years in the desert) of hiding, I still got to enjoy the privilege of being "doomed" to outer darkness with the disaster at Utah Valley University - being terminated because I didn't fit, because I had taught about LGBT issues in just one class in a Multiculturalism course, because my loyalty to the school of education was challenged as I was charged in having "liberal" friends across campus. And while the pain has receded and I can offer occasional listeners to this story a great set of laughs, the memory does not fade. Because while part of the real reason I was terminated (hinted to my face by the Chair herself) was the fact that I came from a Jewish family, the other reason I was terminated was the fact (stated to my face by the Dean himself) was that "donors had become very uneasy that there was someone in the School of Education who was teaching alternative lifestyles. [And to think they insisted on using that textbook.] Yes, the price of being gay, even gay friendly in pre-Obama America. Or just in Utah in general.
Second, the price I wound up paying for hiding was in spending an inordinate amount of time making sure that the hiding tactic was, in fact, working. And so, much of my intellectual calorie expenditure was NOT to learn more about my chosen profession. Rather it was to make sure the smoke and mirrors were ALWAYS in place. This, I believe, is the great waste. For if much talent was lost to this country by African-Americans who were denied equal opportunity under the law, then so it is with so much talent lost to this country by many (but luckily, not all) LGBT Americans who have done the "dirty work" ourselves - by cutting ourselves out of "the race to the top". THIS, indeed, is why the stories are so inextricably connected, no matter how much certain African Americans call us "carpetbaggers" lest our inclusion into this larger story denigrate or perhaps confuse their own tragic history. (I actually understand their fears, as Jewish people want to MAKE SURE that the term Holocaust is used only for their tragic history connected to Nazi Germany and none other.) Still a noose around anyone's neck is horrific, not matter who turned out to play the role of the executioner - the angry mob on others or the distraught and despondent young man on himself.
Third and final, I think that the price I wound up paying for hiding was that I never really trusted mentors. And so, I rarely had professional mentoring from men in all my years. (I would become one myself with almost every opportunity.) Why was this so? Because I couldn't trust men. Which is VERY connected to being gay. (a story which is probably for another post, so as to explain all this to straight readers). Which meant professional advancement was almost impossible. And so, I wound up "side-stepping" every time it became time to find new work. There was never any seniors "up the ladder" who could go to bat for me. Because no one really ever knew me well. Because I didn't let them. Because I had to keep my "dirty little secret" out of sight, out of mind. And so, here I am.
What to do about all this? Recently, I have put an end to the greatest source of this shaming by simply walking away from the Mormon church. When they get their acts together, I've let them know they are welcome to give me a call. But that I will no longer tolerate Latter Day Racism which they are very very good at practicing. And, if Robbie the soccer player can come out and risk his entire career, so can I. I've been "out" to some degree to selected friends, and recently to selected communities out here on-line. But, what about at work? in my community? in simply my daily goings-on? No, the fear still hangs. Until this coming week. When Ben and I will simply complete an interview on Mormon Stories that should, if all goes well, add to the growing number of voices in this critical year called 2013 - when, if I were a betting man, I truly believe we might approach the Gladwellian "tipping point". And the dam will break. And, just as most people standing in 1975 could hardly believe how much they had put up with back in 1957, I think will find the same story about us. . .
Thanks to those who have gotten to here, in wanting to know more about what I think, what I feel, what I do and especially in what trajectory I am setting - as I become wonderfully engaged in the cause of learning how to write my own story - without ANYONE else's script. Some learned this at 16. As I said, I simply spent an additional 40 years in the desert, before I was ready to pick up my own pen. And WRITE. ///
No comments:
Post a Comment