I went swimming at a public pool beside a local high school on Friday. My normal swim day is Wednesdays so I was taken aback when, in the middle of my workout, my lane was closed down. This left only one lane for swimming laps—the slow, medium and fast swimmers merging into one. Let’s just say I was not happy. When I asked the lifeguard if this was going to be a regular thing, the poor guy shrugged and said, “I don’t know.” He’s the guy that just shows up to do his shift.
As it turned out, the slower swimmers got out of the pool, leaving the lane to just me and one other swimmer. Our speeds were comparable. I focussed on just swimming laps, getting my workout in. But around me, there was a lot of cheering and shouting. Each time I would turn to the side to get a breath while swimming freestyle, I could see a large group of people who looked student-aged standing fully clothed along the side of the pool. They seemed to be the ones causing the commotion.
It was only after I finished my last lap that I came up for air and saw what the ruckus was all about. This looked like a group of grade eight students, roughly 13 or 14 years old. They were cheering on their classmates who had constructed small, one-person boats out of cardboard. The objective was for the boat makers to paddle their craft from one end of the pool to the other while trying to keep their cardboard structures afloat. The scene was comical and chaotic at the same time.
Let’s just say there’s a reason freighters aren’t made from cardboard.
I got out of the pool and showered, then proceeded to get dressed in the changing room. While this was going on, two of the students who had taken unfortunate plunges in the pool, entered the locker room to change out of their wet clothes.
One of the boys said to the other that he’d forgotten to pack a towel. “What were you thinking?” said the other boy.
“I asked my dad to pack a bag for me,” came the reply.
The other boy lightly mocked his classmate. “What… You get mommy to pack for you?”
The boy without a towel took the question literally. His answer: “My mom is in India. “
“What?! How is that?”
At this point, I was tempted to butt in, even though I knew it was not my place. I wanted to give the towel-less kid (Boy 1) some support. I wanted to explain that, based on my years as a school principal working in diverse neighbourhoods, there had been a lot of families from India. It was common for one or more members to go back to India for one to two months at a time. This was practical. Why travel so far only to turn around again after a short visit?
Boy 1 handled things on his own. “My family’s complicated. “
“How so?”
“It’s a long story,” said the boy, perhaps wanting to dodge the explanation.
“I’ve got the time,” said his curious classmate. (This amused me.)
“It’s about surrogacy.”
“What’s that?” Boy 2 asked.
“It’s when you take an egg—”
“Oh! You mean a surrogate.”
“Yeah,” Boy 1 said. “My dads are gay.” This time there was no hesitation.
As my back was to the two boys, I assume the boy without the towel simply nodded his head. Boy 1’s explanation was taken matter-of-factly. There was no ridicule or teasing about the fact his dads were gay. No need to ask questions. It just was what it was.
Instead, the conversation passed without a segue to a more involved negotiation about how to scrounge up enough money for the two of them to buy pizza for lunch.
I am heartened by this conversation. Despite regressive actions from conservative adults who happen to be in positions for making and changing laws, this younger, non-voting age group seems to take in stride differences related to LGBTQ identities. They are growing up with freer forms of expressing themselves and seeing their peers do the same. While some lawmakers are desperately trying to keep a lid on All Things Gay, messages, conversations and supports are out there, both online and in person.
Fourteen years ago, I was pleased but skeptical when the book, It Gets Better, was published, with words of encouragement from notable people. I thought it was a noble project, but I wondered how it would be received by some 13-year-old who was actively being bullied or living in a household where anti-gay remarks were regularly made by parents. How does Hold on until you’re 20 help a young teen cope? When you’re 13, 20 feels like a lifetime away.
But now I can view the book over a longer trajectory. Since 2011, despite setbacks, things truly have gotten better. It’s not a time for complacency—there is more to be done and supposedly enshrined rights may still be volatile—but there is evidence that things are getting better for younger people, for both those who identify as LGBTQIA+ and those who don’t. One of my favourite sayings, You Be You, appears to have more traction with this age group. There will always be ways to put peers down but perhaps queerness is less likely to be the cause for ridicule.
Seems I got more than just a workout from my trip to the pool.
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