The Community ...
Progress is happening for the LGBT community.
With California's state-wide marriage wave for gays and lesbians, the media is inundating everyone with photos, stories and video of happy couples finally tying the knot.
But where does that leave single folk like me?
I don't have a partner, domestic or otherwise, a long time companion or even a friend with benefits. There's just me and my crazy causes. But how do I reconcile this identity of being a gay man with being a single gay man, living not but 13 miles away from the California border in the latest wave of weddings and ensuing marital bliss?
It's like being caught at midnight on New Year's Eve with no one to kiss.
The excitement, opportunity and preconceived obligation is there, but no takers. I am the kid sulking in the corner who missed out. Maybe it's my high standards that keep me single, right? Maybe it's the fact that I just have no genuine interest in beginning a relationship with any more complexity than pop song. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm a man of color and size, who -- at best -- comes across socially awkward.
Then, I remind myself that it's just not my time. I haven't found a boyfriend because I don't need one. I have my own family and my own cultural identity to keep me company. Even when I daydream about the future Mr. Hyphen-Walking Bull, I have no clue what he looks like, because I haven't had the time to envision even that far ahead.
But for thousands (if not millions) of gays and lesbians in committed relationships, it's their time to shine. It's not about me. It's about the septuagenarian couple who were both considered mentally ill under the APA's guidelines. It's about the couples who took part in the Stonewall Riots. There's the couple who had to keep their relationship a secret because of the military's Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy. It's about the couple who stuck out even when the DOMA was signed into law. And it's also about the couples who lit a candle for Matthew Shepard as he lied dying.
It's those community members and couples who've been lined up since they first made the commitment to each other who deserve this day. My day will come or it won't, but that's the thing about being part of a community, you share in each other's tragedy as well as each other's joy.
Congratulations to you, my community, may this only be the first of many steps toward true equality.
With California's state-wide marriage wave for gays and lesbians, the media is inundating everyone with photos, stories and video of happy couples finally tying the knot.
But where does that leave single folk like me?
I don't have a partner, domestic or otherwise, a long time companion or even a friend with benefits. There's just me and my crazy causes. But how do I reconcile this identity of being a gay man with being a single gay man, living not but 13 miles away from the California border in the latest wave of weddings and ensuing marital bliss?
It's like being caught at midnight on New Year's Eve with no one to kiss.
The excitement, opportunity and preconceived obligation is there, but no takers. I am the kid sulking in the corner who missed out. Maybe it's my high standards that keep me single, right? Maybe it's the fact that I just have no genuine interest in beginning a relationship with any more complexity than pop song. Or maybe it's the fact that I'm a man of color and size, who -- at best -- comes across socially awkward.
Then, I remind myself that it's just not my time. I haven't found a boyfriend because I don't need one. I have my own family and my own cultural identity to keep me company. Even when I daydream about the future Mr. Hyphen-Walking Bull, I have no clue what he looks like, because I haven't had the time to envision even that far ahead.
But for thousands (if not millions) of gays and lesbians in committed relationships, it's their time to shine. It's not about me. It's about the septuagenarian couple who were both considered mentally ill under the APA's guidelines. It's about the couples who took part in the Stonewall Riots. There's the couple who had to keep their relationship a secret because of the military's Don't Ask, Don't Tell policy. It's about the couple who stuck out even when the DOMA was signed into law. And it's also about the couples who lit a candle for Matthew Shepard as he lied dying.
It's those community members and couples who've been lined up since they first made the commitment to each other who deserve this day. My day will come or it won't, but that's the thing about being part of a community, you share in each other's tragedy as well as each other's joy.
Congratulations to you, my community, may this only be the first of many steps toward true equality.