Recently the Sutherland Institute sponsored a public program in St. George, Utah explaining why it was important that the bills sponsored by Equality Utah and supported by Governor Huntsman and others failed to pass the legislature this year. The presentation was couched with religious overtones and frequent reminders of the perceived threat presented to traditional families that equal rights for gay and transgender citizens presents. “Homosexual activists” were excoriated.
The next morning I woke with a memory of long ago roiling my brain. My wife and I were living in a small community in Georgia. A year or so earlier, I received the most painful call of my life from my daughter in Utah. After the usual small talk, my daughter Cindy spoke words that changed my life forever. “Dad, I have AIDS.” After struggling for weeks to sort out the complex feelings and issues that had now intruded on our peaceful existence, gradually with the loving help of my wife, Cindy’s stepmother, and the compassionate help of members of the Atlanta gay community I developed a plan for helping my daughter, living 2000 miles away. I did so with the belief that if I helped someone in my community, others would step forth and help my daughter and members of my family in Utah. Gradually I became a homosexual activist, a title I wore with honor as I helped organize support for members of my community stricken with AIDS and their families.
I wrote letters to the editor challenging the assertions of those who reshaped their bibles into arrows and hurled them at the hearts of vulnerable fellow human beings. Because of my public activities some friends invited my wife and me to dinner one evening. During the meal, unexpectedly, our friend broke into tears. Quietly sobbing she told us that her son had AIDS and that she needed help. At the time there were no medications to stop this disease. She related how painful it had become to go to her Southern Baptist Church and sit quietly in the pew while some of her friends spoke so harshly about homosexuals. Her skin color offered her no protection from the overt expressions of prejudice.
As time passed she and her family worked through the difficult process of coming to genuine acceptance of their loved one and his life threatening illness. After his death, his obituary included the fact that he had died of AIDS; news that I am sure was a surprise to many. The family agreed that the funeral would be held in Atlanta in the Metropolitan Community Church. On the right side of the church sat friends from the deceased’s gay community and on the left were the friends and relatives of his Southern Baptist family. I have attended few funerals as spiritual and potentially healing.
A few months later, my wife and I stopped by our friends’ home and they showed us the AIDS Quilt honoring their son. It included photos and words depicting this young man’s life. Photos of his Boy Scout years, his military service years and words describing his accomplishments as a successful businessman all conveyed the story of a man who lived successfully with integrity and compassion for others.
Now, here I am in Southern Utah and in the words of Yogi Berra “It’s like déjà vu all over again.” Now the issue is gay rights and gay marriage, but the passions driving the vocal opposition have their roots in the same unawareness, irrational fear, and sometimes raw prejudice as evidenced by the recent outburst of our state senator and those who agree with him. I know that there are good and sincere people on both sides of this issue. I believe, perhaps naively, that if we could come together and meet not as opposing members of abstract groups, but as individuals and engage in genuine dialogue characterized by authentic listening we may be able to begin to understand and respect each other.
To those who are threatened by members of traditional families such as mine: “We are not your enemies?” The bond of love we have with our homosexual and transgender relatives and friends persuades us that they are not your enemies. We have no intent or desire to harm or threaten any other person or family. We believe that the legal and political fears expressed in the recent meeting are unfounded and damaging to today’s traditional families that embrace and love those who are the targets of the attacks.
The irony of course is that those who are so fearful of the potential threats to their families if society were to genuinely accept our gay children seem unaware of the damage being done to traditional families that include gay children. Most people will agree that adolescent years can be very difficult even if the adolescent is the recipient of parental love and acceptance. Why can’t LaVar Christensen and others of like mind understand that to subject an adolescent to the rejection, stigmatization, alienation, and harsh judgment of the anti-gay rhetoric they hear so often just might have a negative impact on that person’s human development. Remarkably many of these young people, such as my friend from Georgia, overcome and manage to move into adulthood with a healthy sense of self, but tragically many are scarred for years. Often their families are stressed by the conflict parents feel between their commitment to their church and their love for their child.
There is wealth of literature available for those who can seek understanding with an open heart. The work of Carol Lynn Pearson comes immediately to mind. She has written powerfully as a member of the LDS Church about the lives of those who have paid the price of stigmatization, and her play Facing East presents the pain and agony of a traditional family after the suicide of their son.
As I have I have previously written can’t we see beyond the narrow behavioral aspects of this conflict? Can’t we celebrate and honor the love that brings us together in intimate and committed relationships?
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