The Aunt

The Aunt

I have a pretty big family.  At a recent family reunion put together by one of my cousins, just my first cousins and their spouses numbered around 50.  It was madness, including ball caps, a PowerPoint slide show and crazy volumes of food and wine, but that is another story.  Amongst this large family is my aunt, my mother's older sister.

Now, my aunt is not what you would necessarily call forward in her thinking in all cases.  She believes that wives should tend to their husbands as their primary function, that nice young ladies stay chaste until marriage and that no one should run around in tight or skimpy clothing.  Organized to a fault, her life is clean and precise.  Even her home looks like a spread from a magazine, albeit a magazine from the 50's.  She is always offering "advice" in her own way, telling whoever she is talking to what they should do about this or that.  She even once sent me a decorating book she had kept since the 50's with the reasoning that the rules of decoration just don't change.  Really, the book was in black and white so I am not sure how you were supposed to learn to match your carpet and drapes, but anyway.  For a fairly long period I referred to her as my Victoria aunt, due to her conservative ideas.

Now, due to my aunt's propensity for giving out unsolicited advice, she often ends up at odds with various members of the family.  At one point while I was in college I was the only person who would take her calls.  She gave me the same advice as everyone else, I would just verbally nod my head and then do whatever I wanted anyway.  I figured she lived in another state, how would she know?  Because of this, we developed a pattern of talking every weekend.  I usually call her on my way to the gym or if I am tied up with an event in the morning I will call her in the evening after she gets home from Saturday evening mass.  If I don't call I can expect her to call me on Sunday morning.  

Now, my aunt is getting on in years and about a year or two ago or so I decided it was time I paid her a visit.  She lives a couple of hours away from me by plane and there was a long weekend so I went to see her and the town that I had lived in as a child for a period.  For a while I had been worried that she was not doing well or that my uncle was not doing well.  I was glad I made the trip because while they were not doing as poorly as I had feared, they were not in the best shape and at least I was able to spend some time with them while they were still in relatively good health.  

I even was able to go to church on Saturday with my aunt.  Now, the church my aunt and uncle go to is Catholic.  I think the three of us are the last practicing Catholics in the family, the rest of the bunch only go for weddings or baptisims.  My aunt and uncle helped found this church and are very active.  My uncle was in charge of setting up the altar that night and my aunt volunteered at the church office.  That particular Saturday had no special meaning in the liturgucal calendar, but nonetheless the church passed a yellow rose up to the altar in memory of the aborted babies.  I asked and they do that every week.  This was not one of those edgy Catholic churches pushing the envelope.  This was strict adherence to Rome and "traditional" values. 

As the weekend drew to a close, I thought about how to be more open with my aunt.  At this point we had a great relationship, talking every week, gossiping about the family.  She was a great sounding board when I was looking at changing jobs.  She would fill me in on arcane matters of protocol and on obscure dead relatives.  I genuinly enjoyed talking to her and didn't want to lose that, but by that same token I didn't want to keep dodging the girlfriend question.  So, just as we were about to leave for the airport, I sat down in her kitchen.  At the same table I had eaten many a meal when I was a child and asked her if she had noticed the ring I was wearing (gold band, ring ringer, left hand).  She said she did and asked me what it meant.  I told her I was in a relationship and I told her his name.  I then told her that I was gay.  

Well, I was about to the point of hyperventalating, but she gave me a big hug and told me that I should not have been worried to tell her.  I said well the Church doesn't really accept gay people (with images of that yellow rose in my head).  She said the Church doesn't know everything.  She then proceeded to tell me about a friend of hers with a gay son.  The friend had confided in my aunt years ago when she first learned about her son and told my aunt she could not accept him and would stop seeing him.  My aunt told her she should not do that and then proceeded to show her research supporting the idea that this is the way that God made us.  My aunt, although she doesn't have a degree because of an aversion to math, is a perennial student and has taken piles of child development and psychology courses.  She told me how she had convinced her friend to keep loving her son and told me how she would always love me.  At this point I am tearing up and my uncle walks into the kitchen with a perplexed look on his face.  I excuse myself to the bathroom and then we head out to the airport.

With that behind me I still wondered a bit how things would be with my aunt, but quickly found out.  At out next weekend chat she asked me to tell her how I had met my partner.  So I did.  She asked me if I was happy with him and I told her that we were having some challenges, which we were, and she offered to listen if needed because relationships are relationships and she had been married a long time so had figured out how to make it work.  Boy did i take her up on that offer.  As things got harder and my relationship ended I knew I could call her any time, any day and did.  She was unwaveringly supportive, non-judgemental and knew when just to listen when I needed that.  When I told my aunt that my mom, who I had come out to a couple of years prior to her, had offered to fix me up with a woman after my breakup, my aunt called my mom and scolded her for being so insensitive.  

I think getting through that breakup would have been much more difficult without my aunt to talk to and I consider myself blessed that she is a part of my life.  For that, she is one of my gay heroes.  

The Physicist

The Physicist

So let me start by talking about my favorite girl friend. She is the best "fruit fly" a gay man could want. Likes to shop with me and will actually help me look at stuff and not just model heels, but she does that well too. She is a book editor transitioning into a job in communications for a fab private school. She has an MFA in Poetry from one of the top schools in the country. We talk clothes and books and politics and boys. Her husband is a physicist. Really. He works on particle physics experiments exploring the origins of the universe. They seem an odd couple on paper, but once you meet them you can see how well suited they really are.

So I met these folks through friends from work. They all played ultimate frisbee. I have never even been to a game myself, but through these work friends I am somehow connected to the SoCal frisbee posse. So MFA and Physicist live a happy scientific literary frisbee SoCal existence.

The interesting thing is Mr. Physicist is a hero in more ways than one. He certainly is MFA's hero and he is super gay friendly in ways I will describe below, but he has a patience for something at a level I never thought a straight man could. You see, Mr. Physicist is hot. Like tall and strong and "I will do whatever you want" hot. Now, he does not have that "I am hot attitude," in fact he is very modest. He does have the patience though to put up with gaggles of gay boys drooling over him. Inevitably when I have brought gay friends to events at their place, they all want to chat with him, look at him, undress him with their eyes. Some have been shameless about it to the point where I have told them to dial it back. Mr. Physicist does not say a word or even react much, he just shrugs it all off. Shrugs it off and makes cocktails.

In other ways Mr. Physicist is a gay hero as well. He certainly had no problem accepting my boyfriend as part of our group, even putting up with off color gay jokes and inappropriate references to penises. He was also very supportive when we separated, listening with MFA to my tales of woe and being there to mix another drink or simply offer a kind word. Mr. Physicist will be the first to crack a great gay joke and is the only straight guy I know who was gay heckled on the street (ironically at an event related to a straight wedding) and just rolled with it.

Since my breakup I have spent more time with MFA and Mr. Physicist that before. Even spending Valentines Day dinner with the couple at their house. I don't know how many straight guys would want the gay friend over for dinner on Valentines Day. He is always welcoming and warm and even when the conversation gets a little too gay, just rolls with it. I have even brought over the top gay men (think Jack from Will & Grace but more) to events and he has no trouble joking along, brushing off the eye humping and mixing everyone another drink.

So for being more than just accepting. For truly living inclusively, Mr. Physicist is a gay hero.

The Boss

The Boss

A fair way to describe my boss is "lunchbox engineer." For those not familiar with that particular expression, it basically comes down to Dilbert minus the pocket protector. He is everything you would expect an engineer to be. Kind of nerdy. Kind of dorky. Not fashionable and really in to pipe sizing, designing water treatment plants and basketball. The boss is married to a wonderful woman and has two great daughters. He is very dedicated to his family, to his career and to implementing projects that improve the world. So why is he a gay hero?

I have worked for this company for about 4 years and while I am not closeted at work, I don't hang a rainbow flag in my office either. I am sure many people at the office don't know I am gay, which is fine as it is not something that affects my job. Except when it does. As a consultant I do work for a wide variety of clients. Many of them are from conservative parts of the state and make no secret of their love of Jesus and of a "traditional" definition of marriage.

During the No on 8 campaign I ran phone banks, marched in the street and gave media interviews. Now, given some of my clients lack of gay friendliness, there was a risk they would see me on the news and choose to withdraw their projects from the company. Once the interviews were given, I had a choice. Stay silent and hope for the best, or resign. I chose to resign.

After a lunchtime event that included an interview in front of a camera with my partner at the time, I called the boss into my office. I shut the door and asked him what he knew about Proposition 8. He replied simply "I know I am voting no on 8." With some relief I told him that I was involved in the campaign and that I had given an interview in support of No on 8. With my partner. We had never previously discussed my personal life or anything personal really. But suddenly in an instant he knew I was gay and had potentially exposed the company to some risk. I offered to resign rather than have the company lose any business. That is when the conversation got really interesting.

As we talked I told him that I did not think it was fair for the company to lose contracts because I had chosen to step into the public eye. I told him I suspected some of our clients would not want to work with someone who is gay. I told him he had my resignation if he wanted it. He replied that there were more clients than I suspected that would not be comfortable with the gay thing. He then said if there was a client that had a problem with me being gay then it was a client we did not need to have.

It was certainly not the response I expected to hear. I totally expected to have to start packing up my desk.

From that point on the boss and I have had a great relationship. I can share with him how hard it is sometimes to fake my way through conversations with clients about picking up women. Or fake my way through actually picking up women with clients. When I broke up with my partner I was able to talk to him about how I needed to take some time off to refocus and talk to a therapist. I can even drop the occasional joke about being gay and we can both share a laugh. We have even engaged in the occasional "is he or isn't he" gossip about clients and staff. In short, he creates a safe space where I can be myself in a world where I often have to keep the real me under wraps.

So that is why the boss is a gay hero.

Who are the gay heros?

So, who are the gay heroes?

I recently finished reading a book about gay men growing up. The premise was gay men writing not their coming out stories, but stories about their upbringing. As I read this book the common theme was trauma. Trauma about being gay. Trauma about hiding being gay. Trauma of having to pretend to be interested in women. Trauma. Had the book focused on coming out I'm sure there would have been trauma about that as well. Now, I don't mean to say these are not important stories or that these stories don't need to be told, just that there has to be more to the gay male experience than being traumatized. Books about the gay male experience, at least the ones that are not about hooking up, tend to focus on the trauma. I could choose to spent my life focusing on the everyday trauma of being a gay man in the conservative corporate engineering world, but that would not get me anywhere. Certainly not to the boardroom.

So, who are the gay heroes? Exploration of just that question is what this is about. More often than not, the heroes are not gay but straight. Straight and willing to take a chance, take a stand or sometimes just forget that gay exists.