The pocket lesbian walks home.
I'm back from the diversity conference. I doubt I'm the same person since when I left. Maybe I'm just the same person having been slapped in the face by several Bettering Concepts (sensitivity, self-reflection, acceptance, negotiation, things like that). But I didn't realize that I walked in there with so many biases and walked back out so much more knowledgable and determined. And scared. I didn't know the world was this intolerant. I also didn't know communities of total and absolute tolerance and acceptance existed.
I'll admit, I come from a very priviledged background. While I often identify as Asian-American, I look far more white than anything else. I'm openly gay and somewhat openly non-Christian, but I come from upper middle class roots and have spent most of my childhood (fucking fucking fucking slum Quebec aside) without fear of prejudice. It's not only easy for me to not give much of a damn about diversity issues, but it's easy for me to not even understand anything about them. I'm extremely sheltered.
The words that register the most in our minds are the ones that affect us personally, of course. It's easier for me to get fired up about GLBT than it is to get me fired up about racial issues. But just because these words echo in my head more - just because I know the slurs for gays and not for Hispanics, know the statistics for lesbian percentages in the US and not for black Americans, just because those issues are the ones that I am forced to think about on a daily basis - does not mean that other issues do not exist, does not mean they are unimportant, does not mean that as a human being and an advocate for acceptance, I am allowed to ignore the fact that they exist. Does not mean I shouldn't care about them just as much.
There was a speaker there, calling herself 'an upbeat black girl'. She said that if we are to change the world we have to change ourselves. And my knee-jerk reaction was "why should I change? Why doesn't the world hurry up and make it easier to change? I'm the perfect model of equality and colorblind as is". Which, of course, is the most absolutely fucking wrong thing in the world, but if I tell you to change yourself first, I'd imagine your first reaction would be questioning what to change, you don't see anything wrong. I didn't, at first.
And then I did when 80% of the 1,150 kids there identified themselves as Christians, and I cringed. And I did when girls labeled themselves as bisexuals, and my first thoughts were not of real bisexual people facing real problems, but of the fauxmos I know. But I think I've taken an important step because I recognize these for what they are - biases and irrational assumptions. And knowing is half the battle. I can fight them from now on.
I know, now, some of my biases. I know, now, a little bit more of what society is up against. And I know that that will help change things, even if only incrementally, even if only in my tiny community.
I also know I'm not alone. We met in 'affinity groups', where you'd get together with those who identified like you. I met with GLBT kids from all over the country. Some of them have it far better than I do, a good sum have it far worse. But that didn't really matter when I walked into a community where, even if we quibbled over the trivial issues of federal vs. state and right to privacy over being a good role model to other gays, we were all working towards a common goal. We all understood most of where each other were coming from. And furthermore, we all used that as a common thread to bond. I only knew these people for a two days, but I walk away feeling like we each imparted truths to each other we could never tell our other friends. We know each other. We love each other.
And today we all had to walk away from this and all the acceptance. There was such a concentration of love and acceptance in those 1,150 kids. And even though some of the kids came in with reserves and with cynicism, almost everyone walked away feeling a little bit more optimistic of these things. Almost everyone cared a little bit more about fighting sexism, homophobia, racism, religious intolerance, and most of all, apathy.
Life's too short and hard to not care about what happens to other people, even those who are not like me. Life's too short to tell other people to solve their own problems when in fact, you're probably part of it. The fact is that we're all human - we all can help and we all can be hurt. I walked away from that conference ready to fight not only for GLBT rights, but for women's rights and anti-racism and promoting religious tolerance. We're all human, and that's enough of an excuse to urge us to help each other.
I'm scared. Society's often a big scary narrow-minded and intolerant beast. But that doesn't mean that we don't have to hit it from all angles.
I'll admit, I come from a very priviledged background. While I often identify as Asian-American, I look far more white than anything else. I'm openly gay and somewhat openly non-Christian, but I come from upper middle class roots and have spent most of my childhood (fucking fucking fucking slum Quebec aside) without fear of prejudice. It's not only easy for me to not give much of a damn about diversity issues, but it's easy for me to not even understand anything about them. I'm extremely sheltered.
The words that register the most in our minds are the ones that affect us personally, of course. It's easier for me to get fired up about GLBT than it is to get me fired up about racial issues. But just because these words echo in my head more - just because I know the slurs for gays and not for Hispanics, know the statistics for lesbian percentages in the US and not for black Americans, just because those issues are the ones that I am forced to think about on a daily basis - does not mean that other issues do not exist, does not mean they are unimportant, does not mean that as a human being and an advocate for acceptance, I am allowed to ignore the fact that they exist. Does not mean I shouldn't care about them just as much.
There was a speaker there, calling herself 'an upbeat black girl'. She said that if we are to change the world we have to change ourselves. And my knee-jerk reaction was "why should I change? Why doesn't the world hurry up and make it easier to change? I'm the perfect model of equality and colorblind as is". Which, of course, is the most absolutely fucking wrong thing in the world, but if I tell you to change yourself first, I'd imagine your first reaction would be questioning what to change, you don't see anything wrong. I didn't, at first.
And then I did when 80% of the 1,150 kids there identified themselves as Christians, and I cringed. And I did when girls labeled themselves as bisexuals, and my first thoughts were not of real bisexual people facing real problems, but of the fauxmos I know. But I think I've taken an important step because I recognize these for what they are - biases and irrational assumptions. And knowing is half the battle. I can fight them from now on.
I know, now, some of my biases. I know, now, a little bit more of what society is up against. And I know that that will help change things, even if only incrementally, even if only in my tiny community.
I also know I'm not alone. We met in 'affinity groups', where you'd get together with those who identified like you. I met with GLBT kids from all over the country. Some of them have it far better than I do, a good sum have it far worse. But that didn't really matter when I walked into a community where, even if we quibbled over the trivial issues of federal vs. state and right to privacy over being a good role model to other gays, we were all working towards a common goal. We all understood most of where each other were coming from. And furthermore, we all used that as a common thread to bond. I only knew these people for a two days, but I walk away feeling like we each imparted truths to each other we could never tell our other friends. We know each other. We love each other.
And today we all had to walk away from this and all the acceptance. There was such a concentration of love and acceptance in those 1,150 kids. And even though some of the kids came in with reserves and with cynicism, almost everyone walked away feeling a little bit more optimistic of these things. Almost everyone cared a little bit more about fighting sexism, homophobia, racism, religious intolerance, and most of all, apathy.
Life's too short and hard to not care about what happens to other people, even those who are not like me. Life's too short to tell other people to solve their own problems when in fact, you're probably part of it. The fact is that we're all human - we all can help and we all can be hurt. I walked away from that conference ready to fight not only for GLBT rights, but for women's rights and anti-racism and promoting religious tolerance. We're all human, and that's enough of an excuse to urge us to help each other.
I'm scared. Society's often a big scary narrow-minded and intolerant beast. But that doesn't mean that we don't have to hit it from all angles.