The 2017 East Coast GBTQ Men's RC Workshop (Part Two)
The front seats were eventually filled and the workshop continued although David did comment that "Many men of the global majority were caught by surprise by the fact that tonight we started on time." That was very true. Indeed, the workshop could clearly be divided into two parts: first 24 hours which were relaxed and intimate and the next 72 which were a little more like speed-dating. I didn't clock them, but, it certainly felt like we were having mini-sessions (co-counseling sessions involving fifteen minutes or less in duration) just about every ten minutes.
That meant that, unless you were willing to "mini" with the same person every time, standing up and searching over everyone's heads until you had eye contact with someone and then moved chairs around in order to sit near them. There was no time to discriminate as to race or age or ESM material. You counseled with whoever nodded their head in your direction. In that way, you got too know quite a few people within a short space of time.
The result was that by the end of the second night I felt that the workshop had gotten off to a good start. The classes - the parts in-between the mini-sessions - consisted of topics chosen by David. The first night was devoted to taking a look at gay oppression itself, posing the question, "What were the early hurts?" Everyone quickly grew very fond of an African American YA who, to my great pleasure, would later be assigned to my support group. His name was Darryl and he had the most remarkable theatrically trained voice I have ever heard. He could switch from a normal speaking voice, a kind of smooth, perfectly enunciated tenor, to a basso-profundo that could vibrate the windows across a crowded room - without seeming to raise his voice. It all came right out of his diaphragm.
Darryl was evidently a performing artist of some sort because he had described constant auditioning as one of the things that triggered feelings of loneliness and isolation for him. So, it was really interesting when he was chosen to be the subject of a "demonstration" in front of the group. A demonstration or "demo" is essentially a mini-session that is just one-way, i.e., the facilitator, normally speaking, doesn't get counseled. Only the audience member does.
I won't comment on Darryl's session except to say that, like many gay adults, he was targeted as gay long before he was "out" even to himself and that a huge part of the hurt that occurred was that he felt he had to keep the event a secret, that he had to suffer it alone and that there was an implicit rebuke - not only for being gay - but, also for having any claim of righteous indignation at being hurt. Being gay may have been the excuse, but, as with most children, the real hurt was in not having any sense of agency or entitlement; in essence, any right to feel hurt.
That meant that, unless you were willing to "mini" with the same person every time, standing up and searching over everyone's heads until you had eye contact with someone and then moved chairs around in order to sit near them. There was no time to discriminate as to race or age or ESM material. You counseled with whoever nodded their head in your direction. In that way, you got too know quite a few people within a short space of time.
The result was that by the end of the second night I felt that the workshop had gotten off to a good start. The classes - the parts in-between the mini-sessions - consisted of topics chosen by David. The first night was devoted to taking a look at gay oppression itself, posing the question, "What were the early hurts?" Everyone quickly grew very fond of an African American YA who, to my great pleasure, would later be assigned to my support group. His name was Darryl and he had the most remarkable theatrically trained voice I have ever heard. He could switch from a normal speaking voice, a kind of smooth, perfectly enunciated tenor, to a basso-profundo that could vibrate the windows across a crowded room - without seeming to raise his voice. It all came right out of his diaphragm.
Darryl was evidently a performing artist of some sort because he had described constant auditioning as one of the things that triggered feelings of loneliness and isolation for him. So, it was really interesting when he was chosen to be the subject of a "demonstration" in front of the group. A demonstration or "demo" is essentially a mini-session that is just one-way, i.e., the facilitator, normally speaking, doesn't get counseled. Only the audience member does.
I won't comment on Darryl's session except to say that, like many gay adults, he was targeted as gay long before he was "out" even to himself and that a huge part of the hurt that occurred was that he felt he had to keep the event a secret, that he had to suffer it alone and that there was an implicit rebuke - not only for being gay - but, also for having any claim of righteous indignation at being hurt. Being gay may have been the excuse, but, as with most children, the real hurt was in not having any sense of agency or entitlement; in essence, any right to feel hurt.