Oppression

I am currently reading The Gay Revolution by Lillian Faderman.  It's a harrowing read for me, as it mirrors so much of what happened to me as a young kid, and so much I got to avoid because this revolution happened for me, and in many ways, without me.

I often wondered if I would be a activist when I grew up.   Growing up in a rural place (and trust me, Saskatoon in the 90s was a rural place), being gay meant being oppressed.  You grew up with two choices:  be an accidental activist or be in the closet for life. 

Many times, when having fights with my mom about my sexuality, I wondered if I should leave home.  If push came to shove, I would have left without a second thought.  Because I knew if people weren't going to accept me for me, then I needed to accept me, and that was more important than anything else.  Nothing else mattered to me at that age.

The idea of freedom didn't seem that important to me as a young man; I was free because I thought I was free.  But you can only be free if you can imagine a world that accepts you.  In 1950-70, being a homosexual meant poverty, loss of job, friends, everything.  You couldn't count on the police, they were the ones beating you in the street.  Religious people (and religions) said you were going to hell.  Parents were expected to abandon and forsake you.  I can only imagine where many of those people are now.


In this day and age, you wonder: how can we be so far from unity, and yet we profess progress? How can people believe that some people are inferior to others, just because they are different.  I think it's very understandable that sometimes, you'll feel uncomfortable around people that are different than you.  But that doesn't mean you're bad; it just means it's hard to be around things that are different. 

Somewhere along the way people began to show courage.  There began a new idea; an exciting idea that people could be proud of who they are.  Pride is a term you don't understand until you realize what you have to lose, walking in broad daylight.

Gay people, and many minority communities, don't want special rights. They want to feel like they have a place in the world.  It doesn't have to be a special place, a better place.  It just needs to be a place where they don't feel hurt, just to exist.

Negativity

I was reading this article today about Negative Habits That Stop People from Being Happy, and it definitely hit a note or two for people in my life.  Quite a few, actually.

I just think the kind of life we in Canada get to experience is so rare, so unexpectedly special, it often causes me to stop, to watch the sun set, to really look at the people passinng me on the street.   From the shape of a leaf on a tree, to shared laughter between friends, to reaching an important goal...I just think it's so easy to love life and love it well.

I hope for people who are struggling...that they might find their way.  For those that are afraid, they find courage.  For those in despair, may they find a way to start again, to renew themselves.

For me, I wish for only the wisdom to be  able to say the truth without harming, to create change without destroying,  to make connections where there were none; to create something out of nothing, every day, with creativity, good intention and faith.  (And maybe a dose of laughter, as well.)

Life is not long.  This seems to me unfair.  I wish I could experience more, see more, and feel more of everything there is in human life.  There's so much good in the world.  I truly believe that, even if the worst were to come, there's still so much good in life to experience. 

A tribute to a friend

Bruce Hunter had a rapier wit, and wasn't afraid to speak his mind.  I remember sitting in meetings with him, saying things to our boss that I never thought anyone said to anyone's boss.  But he said them with such charm that he got away with it, nearly every time.  This endeared him to me, and told me that he was my kind of person, the kind I liked in a workplace.  Honest, professional, in touch with reality and not afraid to speak his mind.

I could go on with quite a few stories, but I have three things that I would like to note:

• He was my mentor.  He taught me the principles of design and how to  to create things that are beautiful and functional just through talking it through with me.  He stood up for me in ways I didn't expect, and I am forever grateful for.
• He was someone who changed the world in his own way.  He was a big part of the MAC Aids fund for a very long time, and he was part of the movement to revolutionize and change the face of LGBT communities....he did a lot of good through that foundation.
• He had joie de vivre.  He was a truly happy and to my eyes, a very full and complete person who knew who he was and knew how to enjoy life to the best of his ability.

After he retired from my workplace, we had a couple messages on Facebook here and there, but I never had the chance to go have a drink with him, or see him again after that.  It leaves somewhat of a sad feeling with me, of an opportunity missed.

Going to his funeral this week was hard.  It's harder still to realize this will happen more and more as I get older.  I myself am not afraid of dying, not in the usual way.  I am afraid of all the amazing things in life I will miss, but not of dying. It's moments like this where I think that some people are born with great souls, and that those great people are the beacons in our lives.  Bruce was one of them for me, even if it was only for a very short time.

Bruce, thank you for being in my life.  So many people at your funeral, I could tell, felt very similarly to me.  You touched people in ways you probably didn't even realize.  Thank you for being who you were....I wish more people could have known how wonderful you were.