NashvilleBen

I was in the sixth grade, I still remember it like it was yesterday. I raised my hand to let my teacher know that I needed to use the restroom. So she quietly excused me and I made my way down the hall. I must have been completely focused on where I was headed with no attention paid to the way in which I was getting there, head down, walking as fast as my feet could take me. The only thing that stopped me was when I nearly ran into the captain of the cheerleading squad, one of my sister’s best friends.

Now, this girl wasn’t your stereotypical cheerleader. She was smart, beautiful and she was charming, all of the guys wanted to date her. Yes, even in middle school. So, when I nearly ran her over in the hallway, I was already feeling quite embarrassed of myself. She didn’t seem to care in the slightest, in fact, she wanted to stay and talk after it had happened. So we chatted for a second, and for what felt like a little flirting. Yes, it felt like flirting. But it was likely just because she was good friends with my sister that she was trying to be extra nice. Whatever the case was, a few other people in the hallway noticed. It wasn’t the first time it had happened and the other guys and even girls in my class were beginning to pay attention. Now it had sort of become a running joke, “all of these girls are after Ben.” Surely they didn’t actually believe that, but of course that’s not even the point.

Every guy in the entire middle school was dying to be me. Just to have this girl say two words to them, they would have died of happiness right then and there. And although I was appreciative of her kindness, inside I was dying. Inside I was dying because I wished so badly that she was the captain of the basketball team instead. The boys basketball team. I didn’t like flirting with her, I wanted to flirt with him. And I wanted it to be okay to flirt with him. I had no interest in this girl, but I knew absolutely no one could ever know that. So I had to try my best to act interested, even if just for ten seconds as we passed each other in that hallway. I had to pretend. I had to put on a mask and tell myself that she was my dream come true. I had to figure out a way to flirt.

That was the first time I can vividly remember making a choice to cover up who I am. And who I liked. But it wouldn’t be the last. Not even close. I became an artist, a very good one at crafting masks. It stayed my trade for the next 10 years. Those first ten seconds in the hallway seemed like 10 years, so you can only imagine that 10 actual years felt more like a lifetime.

Even once I admitted that I was gay to myself at 22, I promised I would never let anyone else know. And that was my plan. Honestly. For a very long time.

Until God had other plans instead. And he placed some amazingly warm individuals in my life that taught me what it really meant to follow Jesus. Not just follow a rulebook or quoting of condemning Scriptures. But who really taught me what love looks like. I learned about Love. Not love like “I love ice cream”. But real love, love that said I’m designed and created exactly as it was intended, and which cared for me unconditionally as is. And eventually, for the first time in my life, I actually felt loved, I felt wanted. Just as I am. It was as if 10,000 pounds had been lifted from my shoulders. And I remember breathing, and crying. And breathing in so deeply, while thinking, I’ve never been alive before this moment.

Since then it’s been a gradual growth. I’d love to say everything was all downhill and a free ride from there. Hands off of the handlebars all coasting, no pedaling. But of course it hasn’t been. There have been big ups and big downs. But the fight is finally worth it now. Because I finally have a life to live, and that has changed everything.

Just this week between meetings at work, I arrived back at my desk to find a text awaiting me on my phone. Within that text was one of my (straight) best friends  texting me about Pride this weekend. The first thing she asked is ‘how can I support you?’ and then she went out of her way to make sure I knew she’d be there. She’d be there for me. For me. At Pride. 

I know she doesn’t understand why this was such a big deal to me. And to be honest, I can’t even describe the warmth that I felt. Immediately I slumped into my desk chair completely overwhelmed with emotion. There was no way I could even pretend to stop the tears. And why should I? These were tears of joy. Even 5 years ago, I never could have imagined that I would be here. And even when I made it here, I never knew I could make it here. Surrounded by amazing individuals who support and love me for me, who inspire me to help someone else in the way they’ve helped me. I wish I could describe the deep sense of joy that this gives me. But I just don’t have the words right now. 

It sounds basic, like that should be expected, but please don’t take it for granted. Appreciate those who support you. And support the people around you in return. If you don’t have the support you’d like, know that there are other people like you, that was me not too many years ago. And the best part is that there are friends out there waiting to meet you, waiting to love you, waiting to support you just the way you are. 

No matter what life has served me, I am constantly amazed with how God continues to place people in my life just as I need them. Most of the time I have no idea how someone has impacted my life until months or years after I’ve passed through the moment. I’ve found that the more authentic I am in my life, the more authentic people I draw towards me. And that has made all the difference in the world. Be authentic, and go where authenticity guides you.

This pride month I’m not celebrating drag queens and rainbow parades, as great as they may be. This pride month I’m celebrating just being me. Being a media nerd who works with a bunch of creatives. Being an overly emotional Cancer who loves The Bachelor and other cheesy reality TV. And being that middle school kid who can finally say (even if it is 15 years later now) that I had a crush on the captain of the boys basketball team. It feels good to be me, just me, with no masks, no lies, no flirting with girls anymore. And hopefully to help other people be themselves too.

To all of my amazing friends who help me to do what seems so basic, I say thank you. You are a lifesaver, joy-givers, and the light of my world. I love you all with all of my heart. I dedicate this Pride month to you, because without you - I’d certainly not be celebrating it myself! <3

Join redpepper for the Huedown tomorrow. (It’s like a color flash party!!)

Meet us at the corner of 28th Avenue North and Poston Avenue by 5:15pm on 3/19 for the event. We provide the color, you just wear white. See you there!

I’ve heard so many people talking about bad things happening because we don’t let God into our communities. I wonder how powerful they must believe themselves to be if they think they can keep God out of anywhere, except for their own hearts. Too, I wonder if Christians really ever stop to think: maybe we should have invited more people in, rather than leaving so many people out. What if we stopped judging the people that we saw as different from ourselves and started building relationships with them. What if we stopped building walls and started building doors. What if we stopped standing up for only ourselves, and stood up for our neighbors. What if we helped the ill, the orphan, and even the non-believer. I think if we did, we’d find less time for blame, and more time to spend with our healer. 

Jean Vanier, founder of the L’Arche communities

She sits at the end of the couch, partly draped over the arm of the maroon plaid upholstery, staring out the window. Every now and then getting up to physically move the blinds and ask who those people are standing outside. Gently we let her know that it’s her neighbors’ families that have come to visit for the holidays. We wonder if she’s longingly thinking about her own mom and all her sisters, picturing what it’d be like to have them arrive at her own doorstep this year. Or maybe she’s just daydreaming about what she wants to do in the next year. We know neither is true, but it doesn’t stop us from wishing. The opening of her apartment front door doesn’t even phase her. She must be caught in a stratosphere of thought, no break in her gaze from the window. Her concentration is gathered on something beyond this world, perhaps on what’s to come, we do not know. The doctor, who has just arrived, walks up to her, sits down next to her quietly and rests his hand on her arm. The touch, it changes everything. She looks up and in a manner neither cold nor warm, she says, “Well, hello.” She has returned to us from the window, and this time she’s ready to talk.

No matter how much we’d love for her to begin rattling off stories of her childhood, or how it was dating my grandfather, or maybe even what it was like being a strong businesswoman years before it was okay, we all know these stories weren’t meant for today. It makes me wish I had asked a little sooner. It makes me wish that I had known her then - beyond how a child knows his grandmother. It makes me wish I could go back in time. To the time when she was mean, and we got mad, and we had no idea it was because her dementia was setting in. The beginning of an Alzheimer’s avalanche, the snowball at the top of the mountain just starting downhill. But I can’t go back, none of us can. And now we are here.

Here, sitting with my grandmother, thanking God she still knows who I am. But those stories I wish I knew are now locked up in the tomb of her mind. All I have now is my grandmother, the very essence of someone she’s never been. But I have her, and though she is quiet now, she is my grandmother. I love her as much as I have ever loved anyone. Each day, and especially this one, none of us can hold back the tears when we think about how cruel life has been. Maybe as much to my grandfather as to anyone else. At times it makes us want to grab our fists and thrust them in the wall’s direction, crying out, “God, can you hear us now?” But that won’t do any good. Not today. Today, it’s about being thankful. Gratitude? How can anyone find any good in this place, I begin to ask myself. The feeling that life has been sucked right out of me. My 27 years begin to feel like 77, the fragility of life seems so tangible in such a moment as this.  

Today I try to remember everything that we’ve been through together. But what if one of us can’t remember. What if we’d rather look ahead than back at where we’ve been — and yet the future seems so grim. This is supposedly a season to celebrate each other, but what do my words of thanksgiving really mean to her now. She can hear them, but does she really know what they mean? She smiles, and as I ask, there is no reaction, her face only mimicking the look on my own. She hears sounds, but can make no sense of what they mean. And my heart breaks, a physical pain throughout my body. Does it break because I feel bad for her and my grandfather, or does it break because I know I’m probably looking at myself 50 years from now? It breaks from the gravity of life, I can feel the weight pushing me to the ground.

What if today, I can’t be thankful.

When everyone is passing bread and the conversation stops at me. Will they see the tears in my eyes, when I say, “I’m thankful for Granny.” Will they see into my heart and know that really, I’m not thankful. I’m maddeningly pissed that life must end this way, seemingly floating into the abyss. I hope that they can tell. I hope that they look over at my grandmother and see how wonderful she is. I hope they can look at her and see all that she’s been. I hope we all can breathe in this one moment and nothing else. That we might be thankful to have each other right here, right now. That we can stop saying how we’re excited for all the things ahead, and be completely satisfied in this moment. This moment when we have each other, and if it all ended right now, we’d be okay. I hope we can all sit on the couch together, and as my grandmother’s head begins to fall as she begins to fade, I hope she can rest it on my shoulder. And mine on someone else’s. That together we will hold this life, and be thankful for each other. To rest in this peace of knowing that our differences hold no water now. Different last names and bloodtypes have no bearing here, today we are family. For that, I’ll always be grateful.

This year I can honestly say that I’m glad life isn’t easy. Without rejection, without mistakes, without disagreement, I would be incapable of empathizing. I would have little capacity for mercy or urgency for a better community. God, I may have hated you for the bad things years ago, but now I thank you for being patient with me always. Thank you for showing me that each negative in my life can have a positive, but it’s up to me to see those things turn around.

Thomas Jefferson once said, “I never considered a difference of opinion in politics, or religion, as cause for withdrawing from a friend.” Thomas Jefferson obviously never had Facebook.

Gay youths in the US are eight times more likely to have attempted suicide than the average youth and six times more likely to report high levels of depression. How many must die physically (or spiritually) before the Church will begin to care? — I honestly don’t give a damn how you feel about homosexuality. But I do give a damn about these kids. They don’t deserve to die alone in such a dark place. They deserve to know God loves them. Would you please just shut up about what you believe and just LOVE instead?

perfect isn’t pretty.