Courage doesn't always roar. Sometimes courage is the quiet voice
at the end of the day saying "I will try again tomorrow."
~ Anonymous
When I came out at my very first job after college, it was a big deal. Not so much to me, or even to my co-workers, but to the wider world. Or it certainly felt so.
It's hard to explain in words how much the landscape around sexual orientation has changed since the mid-1980's when I was navigating it for the first time.
In those times, there were very few corporations that had extended health benefits to same-sex domestic partners. (I think there were some software companies that were mostly the exception proving the rule.) If you wanted protection, education was pretty much your only other option as industries go. And there was what felt like a one-to-one correspondence between people who were willing to say the word "gay" out loud and people who were gay. The tarring effect of the gay "brush" was so powerful that people wanting to avoid it were afraid to even say the word out loud.
And it was in this climate that I began my first job after college. I had been saying the words "gay" and "I" in the same sentence for about two years when I arrived at the University of Pennsylvania's Undergraduate Admissions Office. I already had the sense that the work of staying closeted was work that I didn't want, but at the same time I didn't know what to expect in my new environment. So I stayed quiet. And watched. And ultimately made my decision.
Years afterward, at my farewell party as I left Penn after working there for almost ten years, several of my colleagues caught me off guard by citing my unusual courage. I was quick to correct them. Because although it did take some courage on my part to come out and keep coming out, my work was made immeasurably easier by the fact that there was someone who had gone before me. What I watched, in those first few months as a waged employee, was how people treated Janine Wright, who had been hired the year before me and who I had quickly identified as gay. She probably came right out and told me. Just as she had other folks in the office. And as I watched, and saw her successfully bring her whole self to her work, I quickly made what felt like an easy decision: I wanted that, too. So I followed her lead.
A year later, Janine had moved onto other things, and although our paths crossed a few times afterwards, we didn't stay in touch. I probably never thanked her properly. And if she happened to stumble across this post, I think the odds are good that she wouldn't think of herself as being unusually courageous, either. She could probably tell the story of how events in her life had conspired to make the steps she took possible.
But maybe that's the nature of courage. It comes to find you, rather than the other way around. And if you're living into your gifts and leadings, it will sometimes "read" as courage to those around you.
I think about these kinds of things much more now that I'm a parent, and a living example – ready or not! – to a young person who is an absolute sponge for life. Guess I'll know I've done something right when someday, someone calls him courageous... while he's doing something just because it feels right.
at the end of the day saying "I will try again tomorrow."
~ Anonymous
When I came out at my very first job after college, it was a big deal. Not so much to me, or even to my co-workers, but to the wider world. Or it certainly felt so.
It's hard to explain in words how much the landscape around sexual orientation has changed since the mid-1980's when I was navigating it for the first time.
In those times, there were very few corporations that had extended health benefits to same-sex domestic partners. (I think there were some software companies that were mostly the exception proving the rule.) If you wanted protection, education was pretty much your only other option as industries go. And there was what felt like a one-to-one correspondence between people who were willing to say the word "gay" out loud and people who were gay. The tarring effect of the gay "brush" was so powerful that people wanting to avoid it were afraid to even say the word out loud.
And it was in this climate that I began my first job after college. I had been saying the words "gay" and "I" in the same sentence for about two years when I arrived at the University of Pennsylvania's Undergraduate Admissions Office. I already had the sense that the work of staying closeted was work that I didn't want, but at the same time I didn't know what to expect in my new environment. So I stayed quiet. And watched. And ultimately made my decision.
Years afterward, at my farewell party as I left Penn after working there for almost ten years, several of my colleagues caught me off guard by citing my unusual courage. I was quick to correct them. Because although it did take some courage on my part to come out and keep coming out, my work was made immeasurably easier by the fact that there was someone who had gone before me. What I watched, in those first few months as a waged employee, was how people treated Janine Wright, who had been hired the year before me and who I had quickly identified as gay. She probably came right out and told me. Just as she had other folks in the office. And as I watched, and saw her successfully bring her whole self to her work, I quickly made what felt like an easy decision: I wanted that, too. So I followed her lead.
A year later, Janine had moved onto other things, and although our paths crossed a few times afterwards, we didn't stay in touch. I probably never thanked her properly. And if she happened to stumble across this post, I think the odds are good that she wouldn't think of herself as being unusually courageous, either. She could probably tell the story of how events in her life had conspired to make the steps she took possible.
But maybe that's the nature of courage. It comes to find you, rather than the other way around. And if you're living into your gifts and leadings, it will sometimes "read" as courage to those around you.
I think about these kinds of things much more now that I'm a parent, and a living example – ready or not! – to a young person who is an absolute sponge for life. Guess I'll know I've done something right when someday, someone calls him courageous... while he's doing something just because it feels right.
(Many thanks to the folks at The Creative Act
for their inspiring challenge this month, and to
the women of Mama Says Om for their continuing inspiration.)
2 comments:
OH, I'm such a goof ball, "talk to ya later" oh well. Loved your cute phone recording and this is a great post about courage. I have a dear friend who is gay and has a family and I've always admired her courage, especially after she moved away from CA to a not so friendly place, but she is doing well. Thanks for sharing your stories.
It's so great that you are teaching your child to do "what feels right." That's a beautiful gift to yourself, and to your child.
Post a Comment