“Beloved community is formed not by the eradication of difference but by its affirmation*, by each of us claiming the identities and cultural legacies that shape who we are and how we live in the world.” bell hooks
I was honored to be invited to two weddings this fall. The first wedding was between a woman and a transgender man, and the second between two women – marriages that just half a dozen years ago were not legal in many states, including here in Michigan, where voters passed a constitutional amendment in 2004 banning same sex marriages. Both weddings were typical bride-in-a-white-gown, reception-with-a-DJ events, remarkable in their un-remarkableness.
The honor comes from not knowing either couple well, but still being invited to witness validation of their relationships. Maybe because we were all aware of the fragility of their right to marry, the love vibe seemed stronger than other weddings I’ve attended. My heart was full.
The morning before the second wedding, I was at a coffee shop with a small group of friends, all intelligent, informed, and not afraid to voice an opinion. It was a week after the nationwide protests against Texas’ recent restrictions on abortion. We talked about activism: what are we willing to do for a cause? The three of us still at the table for this conversation ranged in age from late 50s to 70-something. We all admitted with some regret we were not sign carriers, marchers, or chain-ourselves-to-a-nuke-plant-ers. Too many people, too much anxiety, too old. Instead, we’re NPR listeners, check- and letter-writers, boycotters, and petition signers.
Not long after the weddings, I had dinner with a beloved friend whose adult stepchild, A, is not following a traditional gendered path. My friend and her husband don’t approve of A’s actions, so A has broken off communications with my friend and her husband. My heart breaks for all of them.
It did not occur to me until I was at the second wedding that being present for these events was a quiet activism. Visible to only a few, we were supporting people who are still outsiders, who don’t always feel safe to be who they are, who may be judged or rejected even by some of their close family members. We guests are part of their beloved community.
I ran this by my in-house LGBTQ counsel, Brilliant Daughter, who thinks that normalization of everyday events like weddings of transgender and gay people may be more important than public activism. We’re affirming our friends and working for the hearts and minds of those whose affirmation comes with conditions or reservations. I don’t think our conversation helped change my friend’s heart or mind but I hope it gave her a more nuanced view of A. Affirmation takes time.
/ˌafərˈmāSH(ə)n/
noun
1. the action or process of affirming something or being affirmed. "He nodded in affirmation."
2. emotional support or encouragement. "The lack of one or both parents' affirmation leaves some children emotionally crippled."
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