The new president-elect has an unexpected side effect for an older lesbian.
Donald Trump is making me a better lesbian. I’m sure it wouldn’t please him to know that, but his election has reminded me of when I first came out more than 40 years ago, and the world felt scary and very anti-gay. In those days, after so many closeted years, I was buoyed by my new community of fellow gays and lesbians and I was ready to fight any possible form of discrimination.
Since I was a student then, I had lots discretionary time, and I used most of it focused on the rights of my tribe. With the exception of a few half-hearted chants during anti-war marches, I had never been particularly active politically. But being free from that clutching feeling in my stomach that I used to get when I pretended to be straight or when people asked me if I had a boyfriend spurred me on. As I would sit in circles with other lesbians discussing how we could find our place in the mainstream women’s movement, or hold my girlfriend’s hand in public just to make a point, I found my pride and my personal activism growing. It was such a lovely contrast to what I’d felt all those years when I was scared to tell anyone about my “true” feelings or nervous someone would “find out.” Suddenly, all of that was behind me and I felt empowered to change the world.
One of the ways I feel I accomplished that goal most profoundly was in the arena where personal becomes political. Rather than march for gay rights, my friends and I just were. We were out at work, we were out with our neighbors, and we made a point to be proud of being who we were whenever we could. For me, a not-very-confident kid who grew up in the 1950s and ’60s, when no one talked about being gay, it wasn’t always easy. But the more I was true to who I was, the more open other people became, even if it felt awkward and forced at first. In that lovely “each one teach one” way, I felt as if we helped to change the world.
Now here we are, nearly 50 years later, and I have to admit I’ve become complacent. I was thrilled, of course, and even a bit incredulous, when I could finally marry my longtime partner a few years ago. But, as a longtime community college teacher, who watched over the years as students became more open and more accepting, I realize I had come to take gay pride for granted. I grew comfortable talking about my partner, sharing photos of us and our dogs. I even smiled to myself when a female student came to talk to me one day and used the phrase “my wife” more times in a sentence than I’d ever heard it used. It was her version of making a point and I appreciated it. And to me, before this most recent presidential election, being a lesbian had become—gratefully—business as usual.
And then came Donald Trump. Of course I have no idea what his presidency will truly hold for me and mine, but Mike Pence’s stance alone scares me. As I watch his supporters come out and hail their new leader, proud that he and his VP see gay marriage as the beginning of “societal collapse,” I find myself with an old familiar feeling. It’s that same one I used to have in high school, when my friends were all falling in love with their boyfriends and I was falling in love with them. I didn’t like myself and I was afraid of what would happen to me if anyone found out how bad I really was.
Now I realize that the paths of adolescent and teen gays today are not as smooth as I’d hoped they had become. I can no longer presume that being gay is business as usual. And so, I’m figuring out ways to become an activist again, to put myself out there, to help make that path smoother for those kids. I’m thinking about going to the local gay and lesbian center to volunteer, to lead support groups, to work with young gay kids who are just now coming out at a time when things could become very scary. I’m happy just to answer the phone if it means it might be my voice that a young, frightened lesbian might hear when she calls seeking advice and direction.
But whether we volunteer or not, knowing that the folks in power now are those who despise anything and any one who is not like them, I am reminded of the importance of living as proudly and confidently and openly as I can. Donald Trump and his gang have reminded me of that. No short-sighted politician whose goals are almost entirely financial and ego-based can stand in the way of human beings living to their fullest potential. It’s time now to not just know that, but to live it. So thanks, Mr. Trump, for reminding me of the work I need to do, the compassion with which I need to love, and the true power that resides within me.
About the author:
Ginny McReynolds is a longtime writer and retired community college professor and dean living in California. Read some of her work at www.finallytimeforthis.com