Are You Guys Brothers?

     Fifteen of us sat in a circle and talked about sex, love, religion, and family. We were all gay men and we concluded that we were in heaven. We ranged in age from mid-thirties to our late-seventies and though most of us had never met before, we shared thoughts and feelings some of us had never before articulated to others.

     Ray and I, and our friend Milton, joined a group who had read Are You Guys Brothers? and who wanted to continue the experience of intimacy. We agreed that intimacy is only possible with honesty, and many of the men lamented that they lacked such intimacy in their lives with their gay friends and even with their partners.

     “We would intuit what the other felt or wanted,” explained one man about a long relationship that had ended, “but we never talked.”

     The discussions we had about how to find a partner, what to do when sex with one’s spouse feels mundane and boring, how to escape the guilt of leaving the church, the impact of anti-depressants on the ability to get and maintain an erection, the invisibility of gay men over forty,  losing one’s identity with family, faith, and political party, whether it’s necessary to experience a “spark” with a potential boyfriend, whether there is a personal God and an afterlife, the stigma of being single, and about ending a relationship that doesn’t work, was a discussion we knew that we couldn’t have openly in many parts of the world at this time, nor even in the United States in times past. That’s why we felt as if we were in heaven. We each felt safe physically and emotionally as gay men, valued by the others in the room. Unlike the atmosphere in most gay bars, the feeling in the room was one of acceptance.

     “I wish I could talk with my friends like this,” one man said as the evening was coming to a close.

     “Do it,” I suggested. “Every person I know wants to be able to talk about his or her feelings. Start out by asking your closest friends ‘On a scale of zero to ten, where would you put yourself in terms of happiness?’ You might also ask, ‘If you were to die today, would you regret anything you did or didn’t do in your life?’ If your closest friends won’t let down their guard to respond to these questions, go find people who want to talk about their feelings. They’ll become better friends.”

     As a minority group, we gay men and women have made extraordinary progress in the past 40 years creating for ourselves a world in which we are visible and in which we have access to nearly all of the joys that life has to offer. For proof of this, we need look no further than to the screenwriter for the film Milk, 35-year-old Dustin Lance Black, who recently stood proudly with his Oscar award in hand and boldly told the thousands of gay youth around the world who were watching the event that they are beautiful, wonderful creatures of value, and that God loves them just the way they are. Dustin got a strong ovation from the Los Angeles audience and in homes globally, but he didn’t seem to need such affirmation. He seemed to me to be a young gay man who didn’t care what heterosexuals thought of him. Negative attitudes weren’t going to diminish him. That’s a wonderful place to be in one’s life and it’s progress for us all.

     One of the areas, though, in which we as a community need to make far more progress, is our ability to get past our debilitating fears of rejection not by heterosexuals but rather by other gay men and women. We know that working out in the gym, wearing expensive clothes, rubbing elbows with famous people, and having a lot of money are not enough to enable us to feel as if we belong. It’s only through the intimacy that results from honesty about our feelings that we will be guided in our own community to a sense of safety and value.

     I’d like to know from Dustin, one a scale of zero to 10, where he would put himself in terms of happiness? And if he were to die today, as Harvey Milk did without warning, what would he regret anything he did or didn’t do in his life? I hope that he’d be open to the questions and that he’d respond with the answers “10” and “nothing of significance.” If he’d be put off by the questions, he’ll learn soon enough that even an Oscar can’t create for him intimacy.

     The fifteen gay men who gathered for two hours to talk about their feelings didn’t leave the room with a tangible award such as an Oscar for their work at honesty, but we each were asking ourselves the answers to those questions on the way home, and we each knew that we had experienced, if only briefly that night, the joy of feeling heard and understood.

     Recently, I wrote to a young man who is in prison for life because he participated in a crime in which someone died. His name, and the reminder of the circumstances of his offense, cause extraordinary anger and hatred among many people. He wrote to me because he had read my book Are You Guys Brothers? and it helped him get in touch with his lifelong fear of his sexual feelings. He said he felt that his life was just beginning and that being in prison was a wake-up call. In my response, I reminded him that we are not what we did but who we choose to be. He has many, many years ahead of him to live. What other people think of him shouldn’t impact his happiness. If you own your guilt and make amends, you are free to move on and to experience joy.

     Yesterday, I spoke on the phone with a dear friend who has had one bad diagnosis of cancer after another. She acknowledged that she and her life partner often cry together now with a feeling of discouragement and loss. Here is a woman who has literally stopped to smell the roses. I have often watched her spend time reflecting on a thought, thoroughly appreciating a piece of music, and laughing with delight at the sheer beauty of nature.  Her tears are normal and good, I said, but I also reminded her to breathe and to smile.

      “Say that again,” she said. “My hearing is bad.”

      “Smile,” I repeated. “When we make a smile on our face, and when we breathe, our body relaxes and feels joy.

     “You are so right,” she said appreciatively. “Thank you for reminding me of that.”

     Joy is not something that comes our way. It’s a decision we make to accept the happiness in our lives. Joy is always available, I think. All it requires to experience it is the awareness that it’s there and the willingness to accept it. Putting on a big smile helps. If you smile, you feel joyful, even if you’re in prison for life or have just been told you have inoperable cancer.

     While sitting in the movie theater the other day, watching The International and eating popcorn with Ray and our friend Milton, I thought, “I love this! I’m really happy.”  So, I smiled broadly and I felt joy. In Buddhism, that’s referred to as “being present” or “being in the moment.” I had the same experience of spine-tingling bliss this morning as I emerged from the ocean and focused on Ray’s beautiful smile as he sat on the beach watching me. “I’m really lucky,” I said, in the absence of another word. I again smiled broadly and I felt joy.

     It seems so obvious, and the evidence of its truthfulness is easily experienced. Smile. You’ll feel more relaxed and happier. So, why don’t I do it all of the time? What am I waiting for? It feels good to experience joy. So, why do I do it so infrequently?

     Sometimes I think that I’m afraid to fully experience the goodness and happiness of my life because if I do it will be taken away from me. Sometimes I fear that others will resent me for being happy. And sometimes, I even feel that it is a social injustice and criminal for me to feel joy when so many others throughout the world are miserable, as if my being unhappy will make them happier.

     Where do we get these unhealthy ideas – from society, from the Church, from the family? There’s lots of blame to go around.

      “What are you smiling about?” asks the nun with the wagging finger. “Go sit in the corner until you take that smirk off of your face.”

     “Why do you look so happy?” asks the parent. “What have you been up to?”

     “What’s so funny?” asks the coach to the male athletes. “When you girls are finished giggling, let me know.”

     “Don’t smile at anyone on the street,” the urban-savvy friend advises. “It makes you an easy mark.” 

     “Get a grip,” says the older sibling. “You look like an idiot.”  

     These are only a handful of the many, many messages we get throughout our lives to be grim, sad, and serious. All of them are the roadblocks we face in experiencing joy.

     But one of the positive things about being older, or in prison for the rest of your life, or diagnosed with cancer, can be that you don’t worry about looking like an idiot, and you’re  no longer afraid of the disapproval of the nuns, your high school coach, your family members, or the people on the street, the movie theater or the beach.

     We know that joy can make us giggle and that we don’t have to do anything to end up looking happy other than to be in the moment, to breathe, to smile, and to accept.

     Why is it only when we’re having our pictures taken that we’re told to smile? Is it so we have some proof of being happy at some time? (“Look how happy you were then.”) Or perhaps because we’re better looking when we smile? (“Isn’t that a handsome smile.”) Or maybe it’s because the people who are displaying the photos feel better about life when they’re surrounded by our smiling faces.

     Okay then. On the count of three, everyone smile.

    I apologize. I am so very sorry. I was wrong and it won’t ever happen again.

    Brenda Lee had it right. Ali McGraw had it wrong. Love DOES mean having to say you’re sorry.

     We saw the film The Reader yesterday and I complained the whole way home, “Why didn’t he tell her the truth and apologize. It ruined her life and his life too. I hate it when people won’t apologize.”

     “You hate injustice,” Ray said.

     I suppose that’s a big part of it. Maybe what Ali McGraw was telling Ryan O’Neill in Love Story is that when you love someone you don’t care about justice. But I don’t buy it. Nor would Archbishop Desmond Tutu, who organized the “Truth and Reconciliation Commission” to heal the deep, deep wounds of apartheid in South Africa. Saying you’re sorry, if it’s sincere, makes it possible to move forward. Otherwise, both parties will stay stuck, one in resentment and anger, the other in shame.

    Apologies, whether from individuals, countries, or churches, must be offered with sincerity and not just to end a fight, to avoid consequences, or to otherwise band-aid a problem. Love means taking responsibility for bad behavior and making amends. Saying “I’m sorry” is essential to the health of any relationship, country, or church and to the health of the individual or institution that was in the wrong.

     We’ve all heard lots of apologies in the past couple of weeks from President Obama for his handling of the Tom Daschle nomination, from Christian Bale for his meltdown on the set of his Terminator filming, from John Thain for spending $1.2 million to renovate his office at the financially-devastated Merrill Lynch, and from Elwin Wilson, a former Ku Klux Klan member, to U.S. Rep. John Lewis for beating him up at a bus station fifty years ago. It is the last example in which I find the noblest intentions and the best representation of a sincere apology.

     “A fool never changes his mind,” Wilson said in explaining his behavior. “I’ve been carrying around an apology in my heart for a long time.”

     “All is forgiven,” responded Lewis. “Hate is too heavy a burden to bear. Love is much stronger than hate.”

     Ray and I have had to work hard on our abilities to give and receive apologies. When we first came together in 1976, we were two twenty-something males who had learned to say “I’m sorry” under threat of punishment – “Say you’re ‘sorry’ to your mother or go to your room without dinner.” Ray did more apologizing than I did in the early days of the relationship not because he deserved to but because I was better able to freeze him out when I felt wronged and I was less able to see what I had done wrong.

     We’ve both gone through stages of stubbornness in the past 33 years, during which one of us was more able to quickly say “I’m sorry. I was wrong” Our arguments sometimes would end up with — “Say you’re sorry.” “No, you say you’re sorry.” “I didn’t do anything. You started it. Say you’re sorry.” “No, I didn’t do anything wrong.” “Yes you did. If you can’t say you’re sorry, I don’t have anything else to say.” “Don’t then.” “I won’t.” “Okay.”

     Besides saying “I’m sorry,” the manner in which it was said was equally important. In the preceding conversation, if one of us said “Okay. I’m sorry. Are you satisfied?” it never really allowed for healing. And singing the lyrics from Brenda Lee’s song I’m Sorry when the other person was really mad didn’t help either. At one time, Ray would borrow words from a television commercial and dramatically say “Can you find it in your heart to forgive me?” That may have made me laugh but it didn’t make me feel he understood my pain.

     There’s a sight on the Internet called perfectapology.com. It guides you on how to appropriately say “I’m sorry.” I’ve learned though that the best apology comes right from the heart without worrying about using the perfect words. When I sense from another person that I have offended them, what works best for me is to spend a little time thinking about how what I said or did might have impacted them. Once I put myself in their shoes, it’s easier for me to imagine how they felt. I then take the initiative to communicate clearly that I understand the impact my behavior or words had on them and I say “I’m sorry.” In 99.9% of the time, the slight they felt was completely unconscious and unintentional on my part. But even then, it doesn’t hurt to say “I’m sorry.” I do so because it allows them and me to move on.

     I couldn’t have waited twenty years to apologize to the character Hannah Schmitz in the film The Reader. Doing so would have ruined my life as much as it did that of Elwin Wilson, the former Klan member. Nor could I easily let go the anger I’d have of being beaten up at a bus stop fifty years ago by a group of hateful thugs. I’d be scarred by the injustice of it. For my own emotional and spiritual health, I need to say “I’m sorry” when I’m wrong and to hear “I’m sorry” when I’ve been wronged. The same is true for Ray. After a lot of work we’ve come to the point where we’re able to give and receive apologies eagerly. Like “please” and “thank you,” the words of an apology help us feel safe and valued.

     (To learn more about Brian’s work and his educational resources, please go to www.brian-mcnaught.com.)

     Being our household economist, Ray gave predictions of what we can expect financially as a world and as a nation in the next five years. With my eyes glazing over from lack of comprehension, I switched the subject transitioned to what change we might see in the social order. “Will Rush Limbaugh continue to rule water cooler discussions or might conversations reach new levels of human decency?” “Will there be class warfare or will we come together under the Obama vision of sacrifice and responsibility?” “Will people like Pope Benedict XVI be replaced by spiritual leaders who inspire us to be our better selves or will the Churches continue to embrace doctrine at the expense of people’s lives?” And MOST important, “What responsibility do the people around the table have to offer leadership in this time of social unrest?”

     Do we Baby Boomers boom or do we bust? Do we return to the ideals that guided us in our late teens and early twenties and courageously speak up and out about social injustice regardless of the cost, or do we cling to the comfort we have so single-mindedly created for ourselves and hope that college kids today will fight the fight for the survival of the planet and its people? Selfless or selfish? Givers or takers? “ ‘Give peace a chance,’ or ‘Girls just want to have fun’?” Conscientious objection or objectionable conscience? Where are we going and who’s going to lead us?

     I believe that the time is ripe for prophets not profits. The embarrassment I have felt as a gay man for the past twenty years watching so many of my brothers surrender the meaning of their lives to the hedonistic pursuit of youth, muscles, sexual gratification, and drug-induced euphoria, and the enormous disappointment I have had in most leaders of all professions failing to mentor and inspire us to build legacies for which we could be proud, is soon to end, I think. I see signs of it – of young gay men rejecting their elders’ preoccupation with great pecs and abs, of politicians and ministers speaking up without fear of losing status with the Religious Right and their socially conservative base, of people my own age coming to realize that they don’t want to spend the remainder of their lives on the sidelines but rather to courageously involve themselves in the global struggle to free the human family from hunger, ignorance, war, and oppression.

     What proof do I have? Here’s just three examples.

     My friend Bonnie Newman was just appointed to represent New Hampshire in the U.S. Senate — a moderate Republican chosen by a Democratic governor who was entitled to pick a Democrat. I’m inspired by the great and very unique bipartisan spirit of cooperation.

     My super jock, heterosexual, Texan nephew Clay told me on the phone this week how he was really glad that another jock working out in the gym with him asked him to quit using words like “sissy,” and “fairy,” because he found those terms offensive. I’m inspired that one man spoke up and the other man was mortified that his unconscious use of words hurt someone else’s feelings.

     And I got an e-mail this week from a minister in a very conservative Evangelical Church who was very angry that another conservative Christian had told me to “repent.” He wrote:

     “The quote from the evangelical letter writer that you included in your most recent blog “Gay is Gift from God” is very disturbing to me for three reasons.

     One, it is written in that saccharine syrupy sweet tone of hate the sin but love the sinner that I find so nauseating.  I personally believe that every time an evangelical cites that trite phase of “love the sinner but hate the sin”, which is attributed to St. Augustine, Bishop of Hippo, that the angels up in heaven gag and vomit all over the celestial streets of gold.

     Two, the famed psychiatrist M. Scott Peck griped that the biggest problem he saw with evangelicals is their use of simplistic thinking to address complicated life issues, which inevitably ends up with many evangelicals throwing out tired, old, worn-out mantras to every problem, such as the mantra of “repent and get right with Jesus.”  I have seen it countless times during altar calls: you are depressed, repent and get right with Jesus; you are having marital problems, repent and get right with Jesus; you are having financial problems, repent and get right with Jesus; you have a hangnail, repent get right with Jesus.  In my home church there was a lady with schizophrenia that members of the church believed needed to repent and get right with Jesus. With many evangelicals it does not matter what the problem is, the one-size-fits-all mantra is: repent and get right with Jesus. 

     The third issue that comes out to me regarding the quote you inserted in your article is simply the issue of arrogance.  Evangelicals need to repent and get right with Jesus before telling other people to repent and get right with Jesus.  Donald Miller is an evangelical writer who many younger evangelicals find appealing and many older evangelicals find appalling.  In his book Blue Like Jazz, Miller talks about the time he was at Reed College in Portland, Oregon.  Miller and some of his evangelical buddies set up a confession booth during the college’s Ren Fayre festival, whatever that is.  Whenever the college students got tired of drinking, partying, smoking dope, and running around naked covered with blue paint, they could go to the confession booth, sit down for a while, rest, and listen to evangelicals confess their sins and the sins of the Christian Church to them.  The confession booth seemed to work quite well.  Those Reed College students who stumbled into the confession booth who were not stoned or inebriated beyond the point of being able to understand what was being said to them, seemed to genuinely appreciate hearing evangelicals talking about their own personal sin issues for a change, as opposed to hearing evangelicals talking about everybody else’s sin issues.    The biggest sin issue of the evangelical community is the fact that evangelicals are always addressing other people’s sin issues, never their own.”

     There are many other examples of why I’m inspired to believe that we’re heading in the right direction.  And, given that two of these examples came from Baby Boomers and one from a member of a much younger generation, I’m hopeful that we’re going forward and that we’re doing it together.

     (If you’d care to contact Brian or to see what work he is doing, please go to www.brian-mcnaught.com)