Mar 14
How I’m Learning to Fight Fascism for my LGBTQ Friends
Silence is what the fascists want.
The voices in my head are eerily quiet these days — not silent, but far too quiet. And to all my LGBTQ friends, I’m very sorry. I will work harder, do better.
My Loved Ones
As a creative with English degrees and decades in marketing, I have had tons of gay friends over the years, since back before AIDS devastated the community. (For those who might be unaware, there is a higher percentage of LGBTQ in those fields than most.) It started when I’d go dancing at the local gay bar back in college. I guess as the only woman, I was a curiosity; we’d dance in groups, everybody was super friendly and — bonus — no one ever hit on me. Win-win!
In the years since, my LGBTQ friends and I have shared secrets, marched for Pride and partied together, played on the same sports teams, hired each other, gone to each others’ weddings, celebrated births, and watched our children grow up together. I was deeply honored to be a personal reference when some friends adopted their son.
Another couple took my daughters’ hand-me-downs for their daughters. We were thrilled when my eldest’s long-time friend finally acknowledged what we’d all known for years; we lost touch when he moved away, but we occasionally hear how he’s living his best life as a drag queen. My other daughter’s nonbinary roommate is a delightful person whose mother is sadly unaccepting.
Medium has been another great source of friendships — both gay and trans. A number of these have become close outside of Medium. If you’ve been here for a couple years or more, chances are you met or knew of my friend Brian Mack (aka Brian King and BFoundAPen. I think he was not much more than a teen when I first encountered him; his writing was tentative, but the promise was there. Although I wasn’t part of the adventure to rescue him from the deep South, where it was less than safe to be trans (among other unrelated health issues), I got to enjoy all the electronic updates along the way.
Once he made it to Michigan, he blossomed intellectually and emotionally. His writing becoming passionate and confident even as his health failed. Although we had nothing in common on paper other than being writers, somehow he trusted this straight white older woman he’d never met face to face, and I strived to deserve that trust. We’d text for hours as he went through dialysis, and I learned so much about transitioning as we’d celebrate milestones like the start of his beard. Being trans was obviously a major part of who he was, but in so many other ways he was just Brian, one of the sweetest young men I’ve ever known.
A huge part of the Medium community was heartbroken when Brian passed. Jim (James Finn) wrote a beautiful tribute here. Brian was so upbeat about life and so matter of fact about his health issues that, even though they were obviously very serious, it seemed — still seems — so surreal that he’s gone. Part of me still expects to look at my phone and see “Sherryyyyyyyyy.”
As much as I loved Brian, there are several members of the LGBTQ community who are even closer to me: three of my exchange “daughters.” Our family has had almost a dozen exchange students over the last decade — all young women who’ve come to us at the age of 16 or 17 from various countries, in most cases for a year. It’s a tender age at which a lot of young women are just starting to acknowledge their sexuality. They tell us things they haven’t told their biological parents yet — perhaps because we’re here at the right moment, or maybe because it feels a little safer. In any case, it’s a lot to entrust someone with, as most Prism & Pen readers undoubtedly know, so we have to be extra sensitive and protective.
They’re all doing well since they’ve come out, their friends and family are accepting, and they are bright, shining spirits. After you’re someone’s mom for a year, though, you’re a kind of mom to them forever and worry about their safety and happiness. That’s all I will say about these wonderful young women, because they’re my kids.
One should support anyone who is being unfairly oppressed, but I have a lot at stake personally here.
What is an Ally?
As an editor at Our Human Family / OHFWeekly.org for the past few years (where we focus on oppression, but particularly racism), I’ve had a growing unease with the concept of “allyship.” I wrote about it there as recently as this week.
My discomfort is multifaceted, but the core of it is this: it suggests that those who would be “allies,” such as myself, are somehow different than those we would support — kind of like Americans are allies to Ukraine.
We probably have quite a few Ukrainians here in the US, but we’re clearly different countries: we speak different languages, we’re on different continents, we have different histories. I strongly support being their ally because the cause is just and at the end of the day we’re all human beings. We don’t have an obligation as another country half a world away, but we all have a moral obligation to do the right thing as much as we can.
But gay people? Nonbinary people? Transgender people?
We’re from the same countries. We’re from the same neighborhoods. We work in the same places, play in the same places, we are friends, we are family. Perhaps more than any other oppressed group, we are literally one and the same. We give birth to each other!
I would do anything for my friends and family — as I’d hope most people would. My guy friends and their son. My old teammates and their daughters. My own daughters! My old boss, who still writes me letters of recommendation ten or twelve years later. And, in the memory of Brian. You are brave, beautiful people, and you deserve all our support without question or hesitation.
If you are reading this as a non-LGBTQ person asking yourself how much time and energy you can or should devote to the cause, also ask yourself this: what if it was your father, your child, or your very best friend? Because — it could be. It happened to a conservative friend of mine recently.
And if you think, perhaps, that I feel the way I do because I know more gay people, because I have gay daughters, I’d suggest that I only know more people who have felt safe to come out in their environment. We all know a Brian. Treat every person you meet as special, and ensure that you’re deserving of their trust. They might or might not be LGBTQ, they might or might not ever come out to you, but everyone appreciates being treated well. And if someone you love is homophobic, point out gently but firmly that you don’t agree — that we are all worthy of love.
In the Face of Fascism
For most of my life, it’s gotten easier and easier to be a so-called LGBTQ ally. For many years, most Americans grew increasingly understanding and open minded. We cheered for each milestone, from the striking down of “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell,” to gay marriage, to gay men being able to give blood again. We’d go to Pride events and drag shows. We’d wear our rainbow and our trans supporter pins. We’d post rainbows on social and our lawns, particularly in June. We’d sign petitions. Again — easy.
It has also been, as a general rule, somewhat easier for most people to support their gay friends than their Black and brown friends, and to stand up to others when someone is homophobic vs. racist. We’re more comfortable wearing rainbows than BLM t-shirts. For that reason, back around the murder of George Floyd or so, Our Human Family chose to focus more heavily on racism than other causes.
At least historically. Lately? Nothing is good.
I can’t imagine any readers here are unaware of the meteoric rise of fascism over the past few years, not just in the US but around the world, and with it the rise of white supremacy and racism. Xenophobia. Misogyny. Anti-semitism. And of course, homophobia. Physical and political attacks on trans people, trans children, trans families. Accusations of “grooming” and pedophilia. Banning books and drag shows! Fear and neighbor hating and name calling. The depth, the breadth, and the speed of the attacks have been staggering. It’s been overwhelming.
I have not been the ally I need to be. I’ve been at a loss for words. My brain has been bruised and numb. So I knew when Jim put out a call for stories, I needed to respond and do better.
Silence is what the fascists want.
That’s part of the reason they’re attacking on so many fronts — overwhelming us is their goal, their path to power. And the more defeated we feel, the more we lose our words, the more they laugh and throw things in our faces.
Anyone who knows anything about history knows what happens when fascists win. What Hitler did. What Putin is doing. We cannot let them win. They can and they will take our loved ones.We all need to speak out more loudly than ever before, and on every front we can. Protest. Write letters to the editor and your congressperson. Attend your school board meetings. Vote, vote, vote, including local. Run for office! Protect our friends and families.
I don’t know that there’s an all-inclusive list of everything an “ally” can or should do. And I don’t know that any of us will always get it right. But if we all work hard at it and love one another, as we like to say at Our Human Family (I think someone else said it, too ;-) we can and we will right this ship. We must. Too many lives are depending on it.
