The other day, I shared an anecdote about a friend of mine, and I received as much mojo as I normally do only in pootie diaries. So I figured people around here might enjoy reading some more about "Richard" (all names changed to protect the innocent and the guilty) and his significant other.
They are the living proof how "the other" is no longer scary once people have recognized his/her humanity and normality.
Follow me below the fold to meet my friends.
Two of my very best friends are an ordinary middle-aged couple who have been together for a long time. I met both of them at church, where they are among the most visible members of the congregation. One of them used to be the church council president; the other partner is a member of the council right now.
Both sing in the choir and cook for congregational fellowship dinners. They maintain the cemetary and visit the sick. They have hugs and kisses available for everyone (I could do without the kisses, though, due to their ashtray breath issues). When our church had its 150th anniversary, Richard composed a song for the occasion.
Everybody loves them; in fact, one could say they are the most popular couple in our church. Except that not everyone is aware that they are couple. You see, Richard's significant other is a man, "Mike."
Mike and Richard are not in the closet. If anybody asks them if they are gay, they won't deny it. On the other hand, they realize that not everyone is ready for the truth yet, so if people assume they are "roommates," they won't correct them either. Since they are both professionals (Mike works for an insurance company while Richard is a speech therapist), they dress in a professional way. Mike's mannerisms are a little on the fruity side (not that there's anything wrong with that) but not overly so, and if anyone saw Richard without Mike, they would never guess.
Except once a year, that is. Every spring, during Fiesta in San Antonio, they work every stereotype they can think of. Richard's preferred Fiesta gear consists of a do-rag with Sponge Bob on it, a blouse-like shirt with a knot in front, a pink feather boa, camouflage Daisy Dukes, and combat boots spray-painted with glitter. Mike's favorite get-up: women's sunglasses, a fishnet tank top, and the tightest jeans he can squeeze himself into. During Fiesta, Richard calls his male friends "girls," which he never does the rest of the year, and Mike practices his "Fiesta strut."
Thus attired, they once ran into me at the King William Fair (the gayest part of Fiesta) when I was there with some people from a singing society that I belong to. Mike spotted me first and called out to Richard, "Honey, look who's HERE!!!"
Upon which Richard picked me off the ground (and I'm not small), gave me a bear hug, and kissed me on cheeks and forehead. My fellow singers had met Richard before in his capacity as a composer, but they didn't recognize him. They were dumbfounded and stood there with their jaws on the ground. After a few minutes, Richard said, "Sweetie, we've got to run" and repeated the kissing ritual (like I said, I wish he wouldn't smoke).
After they left, there were about 30 seconds of silence. Then one of the ladies said, "Where in the WORLD do you know that person from?"
Me: "From church."
She: "What kind of church do you go to?"
Me: "The same one where your daughter is going to get married next week."
Stunned silence. And believe me, it is not easy to shut that woman up.
About two years ago, the ELCA, to which our church belongs, started grappling with its stance toward openly homosexual clergy. This year, the general assembly voted to allow gay and lesbian pastors in committed relationships. It is still too early to assess the ensuing shit storm, but a few congregations already left the ELCA a couple of years ago, and some are considering leaving now.
The name of our congregation came up on the rumor mill as one likely to leave since our senior pastor is rather conservative and homophobic. However, he is also not stupid and realizes that he would lose half his congregation, so a secession is unlikely. Our church already had its sexual orientation-related discussions two years ago, and we know that we have to agree to disagree on that issue.
In one of these meetings, by the way, Mike suddenly stood up and declared, "Well, I'm queer and I'm here, and I'm not going anywhere."
As I looked around the room, the facial expressions varied. The choir people were obviously thinking "Duh," while the rest remained in gobsmacked silence. Nobody said a word, and there were no hostilities toward Mike. A few months later, Richard ran for church council and won.
That same year, we had our pictures taken for the new directory. As I was waiting for my appointment, I talked to our volunteer coordinator, Rose, a kind elderly lady who is slowly recovering from lifelong conservative indoctrination. Suddenly she said, "So it's true that Mike is gay, huh?"
Me: "Yup."
Rose: "Well, there have always been rumors. Richard too?"
Me: "Definitely."
Rose: "I used to think that all gays are just evil, but if Richard is one of them, they can't be all bad."