The Secret Gay Thing We Do

July 20, 2009

I’ve become acutely aware of something on vacation. Wherever I go I always notice every gay person within 100 yards. D and I will be walking down a street talking about the most mundane things that married couples talk about but when another gay person or two walk by us our conversation ceases as we exchange a whispered remark between us. We usually say nothing more than “Girlfriend approaching at three o’clock!” or “Whoa, that couple has family written all over them!” and then we return to whatever we were talking about before “the gay” entered our field of vision.

When we were strolling hand-in-hand last week at a street fair in the hip, slick, cool, and totally queer-friendly neighborhood of Mississippi Street in Portland, Oregon we couldn’t help but notice that we gay folk were in a higher than average percentage of attendees. There weren’t any rainbow flags flying or feathered boas on the boys but it was obvious family was in the house. Lesbian couples. Gay dads with tots in tow. Queer youth. And it felt good.

And then two days later we were walking hand-in-hand in the tourist-centric coastal  town of Cannon Beach and while there were a few women and men that caused us to raise a hopeful eyebrow, by and large, we were fairly convinced we were about the only gay couple with sand between their toes that weekend. And it felt . . . odd.

I puzzle over this phenomenon sometimes; how it is that I can go throughout the day without so much as a single gay thought (i.e., no pondering over when the Indigo Girls will release another album), but when another gay person walks by, I make that instantaneous connection that I’m gay and so are they and I take a certain pleasure in that moment when it happens.

Now, this would be a natural time to ask if the same is true for you but I don’t need to ask. I know the answer.  We of the alphabet soup persuasion (GLBTQI…) are like cyclists pedaling along on a road swarming with walkers, runners, and automobiles. If you don’t ride a bike then let me give you a peek into the world of their secret little ritual of greeting. It goes like this. When two cyclists pass each other they do one of two things; they either flutter up the palm of one hand from their handlebar in a nearly indiscernible wave, or they nod in acknowledgment with the quickest flash of a tip of their helmeted head. And two queers passing in a world full of straight people do the very same thing! Oh come on and admit it! You know you do! In the split second I notice you it’s more than apparent that you notice me and in response we do that lightening-fast upturn of the lips, squint of the eyes, or nod of the head to the other before returning to whatever was holding our attention or thought three seconds earlier.

But why do we do that is the question I’ve been wondering about these past few days and I think the answer, at least part of it anyway, is because even though the gay person walking by is a complete stranger we recognize at the same moment that we share something deeply powerful in common. The queer passing by can be covered in sleeve tattoos, dressed in some weird fashion zone that borders the land between goth and gross, with a three-inch nose ring dangling from their pierced nostril and that doesn’t matter to those of us dressed in pressed jeans, a wrinkle-free over-sized cotton shirt and sporting a socially acceptable lesbian hairstyle (refer to examples of Jodi Foster, Ellen, or the entire field of players in the LPGA). No. Despite our external differences we have that moment of connection because we know the other knows what we know. Contrary to the theory of the one universal gay lifestyle, while our life experiences and the way we live our daily lives are as diverse as our outward appearance, we are both gay and we know that any gay person we pass by stands in the midst of a particular history with us and the stories and people that comprise that history are the same. Harvey Milk. Stonewall. AIDS. Act Up. Gay Pride. Matthew Shepherd. Marriage equality. We share common insider words and community symbols. We know to one extent or another the soul-destructive power of the closet and the empowering liberation of coming out. We know what it is to be rejected or accepted and to be ridiculed or affirmed. We know what it is to love someone amazing and refuse to allow any one or any law to diminish that love. We know the joy of our hard-won victories and our shared frustrations in temporary defeat. We know what it is to suffer at the hand of oppression, hate, and ignorance just as we know what it is to celebrate our lives and our loves, and to stand up for our basic right of human dignity and respect.

I walk by you and in the split second I see you and recognize you as family, I know that wherever it is that I am, whether at a festive street fair in a neighborhood that houses the cities GLBTQ Community Center or on a quaint strolling avenue in a coastal town dominated by the long-standing presence of a conservative Christian conference center, I am not alone. I’m there and you’re there and without exchanging so much as a word we know something about each others lives that others will never fully understand and so we smile or nod to say, “I know because I am too.”

SisterFriends Together.

Kind of the same thing, don’t you think? Just with a whole lot more shared stories and names to our history. Stories like salvation and grace and redemption and faith. Names like Jesus and God and Spirit. I knew there was some reason I liked passing you by and nodding in your direction and even better when we stop and take time to get to know one another. Let’s keep doing that, okay?

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Posted in SisterFriends, So Gay