Oddly enough, I don't remember the moment where I learned that Mark Bingham, the Flight 93 hero, was gay. It's weird because so many of the events of 9/11 are permanently etched in my memory. I can vividly remember much of what happenned that day. I can remember the exact time I woke up that morning and what music I was listening to in the car on the way to school (I woke up at the exact time that a plane hit the Pentagon and I hadn't been watching any news that morning and was listening to a CD on my way to school), I can remember where I was when I first learned of the attacks and who told me, I can remember trying to call my older brother who was away at college in D.C. and not being able to get through, I can remember the sense of relief I felt when I finally heard from him and learned he was okay, I can remember what I ate for dinner that night (Fish, my least favorite food), and I can even remember a conversation I had with my parents shortly before I went to bed as we watched the coverage on cable news.
Even though it's been 10 years, I can still remember many of those events as if they occurred just yesterday. I would imagine that it's similar for most people who lived through that day as well.
Yet oddly enough, I don't remember the detail that was seemingly most important and made the most impact on my life.
When 9/11 struck, I had just started my 11th grade year. On the morning of September 11, 2001, I think I was fairly typical of the average teenager. I worried about upcoming college applications, I worried about SATs, I had my good subjects and my bad ones, I occassionally rebelled against my parents, I loved hanging out with my friends at the mall, I was overjoyed to have just gotten my CA Driver's license, I loved the newfound freedom of being able to drive a car, I loved going to Dodger games, I was a proud member of my high school's waterpolo and swim team (though I had just quit in order to concentrate more on my school work), and there was nothing more than I enjoyed than an afternoon swim during the summer. However, in other ways, I was unlike a typical teenager because I was a gay teenager and I was still in the closet.
It was that very year, 2001, that I had finally realized that I was gay and come to grips with my sexual orientation but I was still closeted. To be in the closet is an experience that one can only truly understand if they've been closeted. To be a closeted gay teenager is to feel isolated, fearful, and ashamed. Although this has changed somewhat of late, there is often the denial of the existence of gay teenagers. When you're a gay teenager, you often feel alone and ignored, as if you don't exist because not only is society completely geared towards straight teenagers, society does not talk about or recognize gay teenagers.
Although you might wish that you could live openly, you are often filled with the constant fear and dread that you might be discovered and outed. You live with the constant fear of what might happen to you if such a thing were to happen. Then there's a natural feeling of shame. For me, there were no positive gay role models, not in my own personal life nor in the media. Those who should have been role models were never identified as gay and lesbian. As a gay teenager, you only know the negative stereotypes of gays and lesbians. And you do not have people who stand by to correct those misconceptions.
In those days, I often wondered whether I would ever come out and I often thought about my life as someone who would be permanently closeted. Would I live in perpetual isolation? Perpetual fear? Perpetual shame? I didnt know. I was brought up in a household of extremely high expectations (to put it mildly). Being a successful person, being someone who contributed positively to society, and being someone who would be a leader within society were expected. These things did not go together with being gay. I was brought up to believe that gay men were weak, outcasts, ineffectual, pathetic, and generally sad and troubled individuals. To be gay was to have failed in life. As someone who was closeted, I felt a great shame in knowing that I was gay. And the media images and depictions of gays and lesbians (what few there were) only served to reinforce that.
But ironically enough, it was 9/11 that began to change this image. I remember learning of the passenger revolt against the hijackers on Flight 93. I don't think there was anyone who wasn't inspired and amazed by the extreme act of courage and heroism that those passengers took. Had they not revolted, that plane would have been crashed into either the White House or Capitol and would have taken out not only hundreds (if not thousands) of additional lives but would have taken out the heart of our democracy. They all died but only because the hijackers were forced to abandon their plan and crashed the plane in response. Those passengers sacrificed their own lives in order to save the rest of us.
Those passengers who led that fateful charge to the cockpit were true heros. And among those heros was Mark Bingham, an openly gay man. For whatever reason, the mainstream news media chose not to hide this fact when they profiled the Flight 93 passengers. It simply was reported as fact. When Barbara Boxer and John McCain honored him at a 9/11 memorial, they presented an American flag to his partner. It wasn't hidden or minimized, it was simply the reality. One of the heros was a gay man.
For me, it was eye opening because it was the first time I ever saw a gay role model or a gay American hero. In Mark Bingham, here was a man who was a role model. He was successful (he ran his own company), he was an athlete (like me), he was a leader (he had helped start up and expand amateur rugby leagues), and he had a loving and supportive family. Looking at this man's life (a man who I never met and would have never known of but for the horrific events of 9/11), I realized it was possible to be both successful in life and be gay at the same time. I realized that here was a man who probably had once been a closeted gay teenager himself and suffered in many of the same ways I did and yet was capable of acheiving success.
This was also the first time I saw a gay hero. Really, it was the first time I learned that gay men were capable of being heros. That's certainly the opposite of the notion that so many of us were brought up with. Mark Bingham certainly fit the description of an all American hero. He was very tall, handsome, clearly brave (he had once chased down a mugger in San Francisco), and definitely selfless. He had sacrificed his own life to save the lives of countless others and for the sake of his country. He was a hero in all sense of the word.
For me, even though I was a closeted gay teenager, knowing this fact helped instill a small sense of pride in me. It was the sense of pride that I would imagine any member of a discriminated against minority feels when one of their own performs a great act of heroism and courage. As horrendous and awful as 9/11 was, I felt something positive rise out of the ashes. I knew that gay role models and gay heros did exist. My life had started to change for the better. No, I didn't come out of the closet right then and there. My personal struggles did not end. I still felt isolated as a gay teenager, I still felt fearful as a closeted gay teenager. But I no longer felt shame in being gay. I now knew that gay people were capable of being successful, were capable of contributing to society, and that we were capable of being heros.
So on this 10 year anniversary of 9/11, I want to take this time to thank Mark Bingham. His brave act of courage and heroism not only saved the lives of countless hundreds of his fellow citizens but also helped change my life for the better.
And here's a beautiful tribute song to him by Melissa Etheridge.
http://www.youtube.com/...
7:28 AM PT: Wow, this is the first time I've ever been on the Rec list (and I've been a Kossack since early 2005!)!! Thank you for this honor. Really. I greatly appreciate it.