Megaphone
I was at a popular beach this weekend walking my dog, when I heard this voice on a megaphone inviting everyone around to come celebrate in the spirit of Christ as they baptized members of whatever group they were. There was a large tent pitched under the shade of some trees just on the shore of this beautiful sandy beach and music being played over the speakers.
This made me so sad. All year long, my colleagues in the LGBTQIA+ advocacy organization I am a part of go back and forth arguing about what is appropriate and what would be too offensive or over the top when it comes to programming events for our community and in celebration of Pride month. Every year there are disagreements on the language we use to market our events, the names of the events … we are constantly anxious about the reaction we will receive from both inside and outside of our own communities and how it will affect our jobs and relationships with our colleagues, friends and families. “What if someone’s kid hears this word?” “What would the priest say?” “How would my mom react?” “What if so-and-so finds out?” “What if a group of straight men accidentally walk into our bar party and hate crime all of us?” “What if my supervisor finds out and I lose my job?”
Even after years of organizing and planning events and providing resources for the LGBTQIA+ community, we are still too ashamed and afraid to invite a bunch of gay people to a public beach and celebrate our survival with some loud music and dancing. None of us feels safe enough on our own beaches to grab a megaphone and announce that we are celebrating our survival and our love.
WHY? WHY at this point are we still worried that we will lose our jobs or status or friends or family because we are gay or lesbian or trans or non-binary …? Are our relationships and status so fragile? Is our livelihood balancing so precariously on the edge of us losing everything that we need to be ready to deny our identities as soon as someone at work finds out we are are not straight? Is any religious institution so vital to our survival that we are made to believe the alternative is death?
I was drawn into my head and the introspection brought me to the dark place that I am sure most people in my community are familiar with, and it is a place that is more oriented to resignation, fear and anxiety than to courage, hope and, most fundamentally, guinaiya (love), as we say here in the Marianas.
It has taken me all weekend to think through to the other side of this dark place, and the fact that I am writing about it now means I am not quite to the other side of it yet. And I am writing this without any particular intent or point other than to share what just happened to me, and to share that it happens often; at least as often as I hear someone speaking about Christian concepts, and on an island that was colonized by Europeans and is now run by the United States, that is just about every day.
I have no idea when I will ever feel safe enough in any public space to wield a megaphone to invite my community to celebrate and be seen like the Christian leaders in our islands do. But for now, I know I am approaching the exit to this dark emotional tunnel because I am starting to feel oriented toward love again, and to the permission that it gives me to be and to celebrate myself.
