Comparing versions of National Coming Out Day
Showing changes between October 11, 2010 at 10:56:07 pm (crossed out) and August 1, 2012 at 10:55:03 am (underlined)
It's October 11th. Do you know where you kids are?
If you do, give 'em a hug. If you don't have kids, hug someone else's kids. If you don't know anybody's kids, hug yourself. Hug somebody.
It's National Coming Out Day today! Woo hoo!
What's that? You don't know what that is? It's a date set aside every year to encourage anyone in the LGBT (lesbian, gay, bisexual, & transgendered) community to come out to themselves, their friends, and their families. It's a day of honesty. It's a day of pride in who you are.
It started waaaaaaaaaaay back in ancient times - 1988. Gay and lesbian activists mark the occasion every October 11th to remember the second-ever gay rights march on Washington DC. It's been observed ever since.
October 11th has particular importance to me - not just because I'm gay. Also because one year ago today, I had my retirement ceremony from the Air Force after a 20 year career on active duty. My retirement party was also my coming out party. I held it off base so I could invite all my friends. My partner was there. My mom was there. My mostest, closest, bestest friend was there. We all stayed in a beach house. We rented out a beach bar. It was huge. For surviving the military closet for 20years, I had a HUGE party. You shoulda been there.
So, fast forward one year later. I'm back in school on the GI Bill and involved in the Gay Straight Alliance. In last week's meeting, I asked what we were doing to mark National Coming Out Day. The plan was to combine forces with the Black Student Alliance and the Latin American Student Alliance and have a diversity / coming out party on Wednesday, October 13.
Hmm... "Sounds fun," I said. "But that's not October 11th. It's not National Coming Out Day on October 13th. We've gotta do something on Monday."
Quickly, we hatched plans.
So with a wink and a prayer, a few students (straight and gay), somebody's mom, and a crusty ex-Air Force guy on a mission, we whipped up an all-day affair. During the day, we had a table on Harbor Walk with GSA information and we handed out rainbow ribbons so folks could show solidarity on campus.
Let's stop here. Let me talk about this a bit. Okay, I know what it's like when you're rushing to class and you get attacked by somebody with a cause. I've been that guy rushing by in a hurry. I know the drill. That said, I found it very interesting - almost like a social experiment interesting - handing out rainbow ribbons to total strangers.
The rainbow flag and its connotations of "all things gay" is almost universal nowadays. You don't really have to explain what it is. When you hand it out to people, the ribbon almost becomes a litmus test.
"Hi, please accept a rainbow ribbon for National Coming Out Day. Please show your solidarity for all students on campus."
Instantly, a zillion little questions are answered. Are they open-minded? Are they curious? Are they homophobic? Are they compassionate? Do they discriminate? Are they fearful? Are they disgusted? Are they happy? It wasn't about if they hurried by taking the ribbon or not. It was in their eyes. Most folks accepted the ribbon. But I could see in their eyes whether it was going in the trash once they turned the corner. I could tell if they'd pin it to their shirt or throw it in their backpack.
A few folks stopped and talked to us. One or two were really happy we were there. More than a few acted as if I had spit on them when I tried to hand them a piece of rainbow-colored cloth. I smiled and said, "Have a nice day!"
Overall, not too many surprises while handing out the ribbons. I knew there'd be a spectrum of folks and I steeled myself for any reaction. I approached super macho jocks who accepted the ribbon gladly and said, "Thanks, dude!" A few others replied, "I don't like dudes." It was interesting. If you approached guys in groups, they were way less likely to accept the ribbon. Those walking alone almost always took the ribbon. I targeted faculty. I figured if I could get the ribbon in front of a class, that's getting the message out there. Surprisingly - faculty are people, too. They have their hang ups. And sadly, more than a few said no - and you could see their eyes - not interested in your message. Maybe it's a school policy thing. I don't think so since several took the ribbon. Most ladies were receptive. A few weren't. There was a particular fellow that set off my "GAYDAR" who politely declined with a dismissive "No, thank you." As he sauntered away, I thought to myself - Really, Miss Thing? Gotta get my GAYDAR tuned-up.
Now for the good part.
Back to the GSA meeting last week. So we squared away the daytime ribbon event. Then I mentioned the five kids who were bullied for being perceived as gay. Could we hold a candlelight vigil on campus that night? Would anyone be interested in it? Instantly, everyone's eyes lit up. You get the candles! I'll make the signs! You reserve the space! Let's make it happen! Really ... it restored some of my faith in the younger generation to tell you the truth. I don't mean to patronize. But sometimes they're so apathetic. But this put a fire in their bellies.
So I volunteered to put my name down as the point of contact for everything. I opened my big fat mouth and now I'm on the hook to make it happen. My team of GSA elves made it all happen. I barely lifted a finger besides signing some forms and writing my speech.
Tonight, a circle of about 40 students showed up on the Harbor Walk lawn, candles in hand. We sat down in the grass under the stars and we communed. I told my story, gave out a little bit of gay history to the youngins, and shed a tear or two. We lit our candles as we listened to the stories of the now six young people who felt no other recourse other than to take their own lives. I told my own story about being bullied. I also talked about where to get help. We passed the microphone around to others who told their story. Someone who wandered by heard us and stopped. His friend's mother had just died - she was a lesbian. He had to tell her story - and asked us to pray for his friend.
It was an amazing night. One I've never been a part of before. One that I could never be a part of before today because I was in the military.
As I spoke and while I sat in the cool green grass listening, I looked at the faces aglow from candles. They weren't checking their phones. They weren't nodding off. They weren't gossiping with their friends. They were focused on who ever was speaking, telling their story, and sharing a piece of their heart. I was amazed. I'm so attuned to being brief and to the point when speaking or risk losing my audience. But tonight I rambled ... I had to stop talking from emotion ... I had to say everything in my heart. And people listened to me. They listened to everyone who had to stand up and be who they were tonight.
Like I said before ... It's October 11th? Do you know where your kids are?
