The thing about Gay-Straight Alliances...

Borrowed from the GSA page of
Marjorie Stoneman Douglas High School

The thing about Gay-Straight Alliances is NOT that they are "ideological sexual clubs" (to quote the Justice Centre for Constitutional Freedoms). They are NOT designed to promote queer lifestyles. They ARE friendship support groups -- for kids who usually already know that they live somewhere in the spaces beyond the heterosexual male and female boxes into which our unenlightened society insists all sexualities and genders fit -- and for their allies. Kids generally don't join GSAs for the purpose of sexual education and experimentation -- they are looking for supportive friends who won't bully them.

Our youngest young adult was a leader for a school GSA. Most GSAs are places where kids can simply be themselves, regardless of their sexual orientation or gender, without being afraid of the consequences should their parents find out. They can hang out with peers from different places on the gender spectrum, queer and straight. Jay's group held bake sales to support student-organized activities. I've never seen so much baking in my life!

While many parents insist that teachers should tell them whether their child is part of a GSA, I would argue for the kids' point of view. The timing of "coming out" to family is a personal thing that should never be decided by a teacher/overseer whose participation in a GSA depends upon the trust of the kids, and it should never be decided by court action. Some kids take longer than others to figure out how to tell the world who they are, and it's important to give these kids the time and space they need to test the waters at home and determine how or when they can come out to their parents.

And this is because, to put it simply, not all parents understand that gender is a continuum. In my own Catholic upbringing, I absorbed the idea that homosexuality was contrary to scripture and decent human behaviour. It wasn't until I reached university that I made some gay and lesbian friends and realized that nothing about them or their lifestyles posed any sort of danger to my understanding of life. My friendships showed me that they were all good people who deserved the same kind of happiness that I experience, and that they should not be discriminated against in any way.

More recently my experience translates to those of different genders, too. In January I read a helpful book called The Transgender Teen: A Handbook for Parents and Professionals Supporting Transgender and Non-Binary Teens by Stephanie Brill and Lisa Kenney (2016, Cleis Press ISBN 978-1-62778-174-9). I learned that human beings are much more than the Bible's stock phrase of "male and female, God created them." God makes people in more gender categories than we can dream of, and God does not make junk. It's we human beings who create and dispute categories.

But it's hard for some of us to allow for a wider gender spectrum because, too often, we are afraid of things that seem to be beyond our own conscious experience. We stay within our comfort zones, our narrow ways of thinking. It's hard for us to put ourselves in the shoes of a 13-year-old who looks around math class and realizes that their life experience doesn't seem to clearly connect with either the boys or the girls there. But imagine for a minute -- what would that be like? And how could it be expressed in a safe way?

And if that 13-year-old has homophobic parents, and teachers "out" the child who attends a GSA, and the parents kick that child out of the house for being queer, how is this helpful? That's the painful question that some of the kids at the Youth Empowerment and Support Services Shelter could answer for us. They're likely to say it's not helpful at all. We need to remember that some parents simply haven't got the capacity to even try to deal with gender difference because it's not part of their life experience. It wasn't part of mine.

But now it is. And I can't help but think back to Jimmy A., a kid I knew in Junior High. Long before anyone even dreamed of Gay-Straight Alliances, he was a likely candidate for one. Instead, he was teased, tormented, and bullied. Some days, he was able to fly under the radar, but other days, he spoke up in his own defense and received a lot of verbal or physical abuse from other kids (some of whom, I suspect had their own gender issues). I was a foolish bystander who felt powerless to do anything about any of it, afraid of the other kids and a little bit afraid of Jimmy and the ways he was different from "the rest of us." But had GSAs existed in the late 70s, I know that Jimmy wouldn't have been the only one to spend time at meetings. There were other kids in my class who turned out to be members of the LGBTQ+ community, and maybe I could have been an ally at a GSA. I don't know what happened to Jimmy when Junior High ended and we went to different High Schools, but he was planning to leave home the minute he turned 16. I really hope he's living his best life.

The real beauty of Gay-Straight Alliances is the A word. Alliance. It speaks to unity for the sake of mutual benefit between those who hold basic things in common despite their differences. All human beings want acceptance, community, encouragement, friendship, and to be loved for who they are. And in my mind, a GSA should be a place where our young people, no matter their sexuality or gender, can express kindness and support for one another, share stories and helpful information, and rejoice in their common humanity.

The world is a hard place for those on the margins, and a supportive Gay-Straight Alliance should be a safe space where judgment is left at the door, and where the sharp corners of fear and mistrust can be softened for the sake of those who need the friendship of supportive peers until they are sure they can trust their parents to also accept them. A good GSA is a place to gather strength and confidence for life's challenges, and heaven knows our LGBTQ+ kids have enough of those.

Sorry parents, but your time to be in the know will come. For now, leave the confidential aspects of the GSAs for the kids who need them the most.

I have been wanting to moodle about this for some time, but it took an article about John Carpay's comments this week to finally light the fire under me.

Banishing the Inner Critic

These last few weeks, I've run into several friends at different stages on the parenting journey and it's been wonderful to catch up with them. But what has really been interesting is the common thread that has come up in many of these conversations -- that of parental guilt, a particular affliction experienced by all the mom-friends I've chatted with lately.

As human beings, we are blessed (and sometimes cursed) with self-consciousness. By that, I mean that, as parents, we are often aware of how our well-intended actions sometimes have negative repercussions, and we sometimes become over-critical of ourselves. The danger lies in blaming ourselves for not doing enough or for unintended consequences that were impossible to foresee, and in playing that old "If Only..." game. "If only I had done/said/tried this instead of that..." For some of us, a little voice I call the Inner Critic takes up residence in our heads, ensuring that we're always second-guessing ourselves.

I know the Inner Critic all too well. I suspect many parents do. When the media quotes studies, the educational system sends "helpful" websites, friends make recommendations, or grandparents offer input, these things can play into the Inner Critic's game of frequently reminding us that our parenting seems less than adequate in comparison to the parents who do everything right (and who are those people, anyway? They can't possibly exist!)

Just think for a minute about that dreaded phrase, "Studies have shown..." which ends any number of ways: Studies have shown that parents should feed their children more unprocessed foods, limit their screen time, send them to play outdoors two hours a day, teach them meditation, quiz them on their math facts at every opportunity, enroll them in at least three extra-curricular activities, read to them daily, set up play dates with school friends a few times a week, ensure that they have regular contact with grandparents, teach them to cook, and the list goes on ad infinitum...

It all means that we as parents often feel a level of societal pressure -- and guilt -- and second-guess ourselves more often than necessary. Which, ultimately, isn't helpful. To put it simply, there are not enough hours in a day to do all the things that our Inner Critic -- bolstered by those studies, suggestions, recommendations and websites -- says we should be doing for our kids. Never mind the fact that our kids learn a lot more without us constantly running their lives! (Boredom can lead to unexpected creativity, which is often a good thing, at least in my kids' case.)

I have to hand it to my mom, who told me something like this when my babies were small, "Maria, you're doing your best. You love your kids, but you have to enjoy life, too, or everyone will be miserable. So keep doing your best and don't worry about the rest. The kids will be the people they are meant to be. You're their mom for good reason. Trust that."

Thanks, Mom, you gave good advice. But I'm afraid I didn't really trust myself and take all of Mom's words to heart. Missed the last bit about trust, and "don't worry about the rest." So a year ago, just before my youngest turned 18, I found myself in a professional counselor's office, face to face with my parental guilt. It took me three sessions to become aware of and banish my Inner Critic, using some of the same words that my mom gave me: "I've done the very best I could for my kids with the time and energy I had. My kids are wonderful, and they are who they are meant to be, for reasons well beyond my control, thank goodness. I can't listen to unsolicited opinions from my Inner Critic any more. GO AWAY!"

Whew! Freedom! It was like a huge weight was lifted off me.

Of course, Inner Critic tries to come back regularly from her place on the sidelines (most recently, with this morning's radio report about screen time diminishing kids' intelligence and focus, which made me second-guess myself yet again, "Did I let them watch too much CBC for Kids when they were small?") Oh, puh-lease, that's in the past. Get lost, Inner Critic!

Unfortunately, I've noticed her Inner Critic pals lurking around the mom-friends I've seen in these last few weeks, the ones who are struggling with parental guilt, so I tried to pass along my mom's wise words, plus a few of my own:

"You are doing the best you can with what you've been given. You are the best mom for your kids, chosen for them for good reason, and they will be who they are meant to be. Trust that, and tell your Inner Critic to take a hike."

I just hope my friends were able to hear me, and can banish their own Inner Critics or, at least, keep them on the sidelines most of the time.

It's an important part of being a healthy parent.

Learning the art of listening

For the next three days, I'll be attending a workshop put on by L'Arche's Western Region for those who accompany L'Arche assistants who work with our people with disabilities. I'm very much looking forward to it, because I have been accompanying some assistants over the last few years, and haven't always felt like I knew how to listen well enough.

Socrates is credited with saying, "The unexamined life is not worth living." In accompaniment, I listen, and hold out what I hear so that the assistant can examine it and decide if changes are required. I also offer encouragement and try to ensure that the assistant knows how to access what he or she needs to be good at caring for himself or herself and to live with people with disabilities in mutual relationship.

Henri Nouwen speaks beautifully about the spiritual hospitality offered when we listen:

To listen is very hard, because it asks of us so much interior stability that we no longer need to prove ourselves by speeches, arguments, statements, or declarations.  True listeners no longer have an inner need to make their presence known.   They are free to receive, to welcome, to accept. 

Listening is much more than allowing another to talk while waiting for a chance to respond.  Listening is paying full attention to others and welcoming them into our very beings.  The beauty of listening is that, those who are listened to start feeling accepted, start taking their words more seriously and discovering their own true selves.  Listening is a form of spiritual hospitality by which you invite strangers to become friends, to get to know their inner selves more fully, and even to dare to be silent with you. 

--Henri Nouwen  Bread for the Journey, March 11

I find that listening to assistants is easy because we set time aside just for that, I have no personal agenda when they come to visit, I find them so interesting, and I want to help them see how amazing they are. I also want to help my own family discover their own true selves, but somehow it's harder to listen well when life is making its day-to-day demands. I'm very fortunate to have and be a good sounding board with my husband, but it's not so easy with our children because all that parenting stuff gets in the way, if you know what I mean.

Motherhood means that I'm often distracted from what they are telling me by what I think I need to say to them. I'm not really listening as much as looking for an opening to remind them about their chores or some mundane thing that's not really important. I'm not paying them the kind of attention that helps them to discover their own goodness. Other times I want to listen, but they're too busy, and I think it would be great to tie them to a chair so that I can be sure that I'm hearing what they're really saying -- and what they're not! 

Perhaps I just need to remind myself more often to be open to those moments when they are trying to tell me something important -- or when they're seemingly talking about nothing. I need to remind myself that when they are talking, it's usually a run up to what they really want to say, and I need to make time for them to actually say it, as I do when accompanying L'Arche assistants.

Learning the art of listening is a tricky business. I'm hoping this weekend's workshop will help me to be more comfortable with my position as accompanier, and with my own vocation as a parent. Watch this space, as I hope to share what I learn.

Who do you really listen to? Who really listens to you?