I AM ONE: A BOOK OF ACTION

 

 

Words by Susan Verde

 

Illustrations by Peter H. Reynolds

 

(Abrams Books for Young Readers, 2020)

 

Back in November, I posted two pieces about going Beyond the Vote. (You can read them here and here.) Trump had won the U.S. election and the Republicans held power in both the Senate and the House of Representatives but that only meant that people seeking change and advocating for trans and queer rights as well as topics like climate change and freedom from book banning needed to actively and steadfastly pursue other channels to affect change.

 

Frankly, going beyond and around formal political structures is where the fun is. The late U.S. Congressman John Lewis referred to some of these non-legislative actions as “good trouble.” I smile every time I think of the phrase and I recall some of the things I did during the height of the AIDS crisis. I was not a member of ACT UP which was more radical than I dared to be as I still had one foot in the closet. Still, I participated in protests and marches. When I attended monthly meetings as an AIDS Project Los Angeles volunteer, I removed all my money to have it stamped as “gay dollars” to remind people when the bills went back into circulation that gays had money and the economic power that went with it.

 

Clearly, we need to get creative in how we fight back against many of Trump’s executive orders and it will take a swell of participation from allies. Just this weekend, the president has gotten me more incensed than ever by imposing 25% tariffs on Canadian and Mexican goods while setting tariffs on China at 10%. Tell me how it makes sense to be most economically punishing to your long-term neighbors, your most natural trading partners? Why even target Canada (and Mexico)? We’ve had a good thing going between North American countries. I know that Canadians are outraged.

 

I, of course, can participate in protest actions and change initiatives relating to more than one issue and now I most certainly must. Trans and queer rights remain at the forefront. Canadian pushback now stands alongside that. 

 

I’ve talked with people over the past week who feel scattered and overwhelmed by the rapid change Trump is creating through his promised rainstorm of executive actions. That’s normal. Catch your breath, everybody.

 

But Susan Verde and Peter H. Reynolds’ book I Am One: A Book of Action reminds us in a simple yet inspirational way that change starts with one person doing one action. The message is comparable to the image of a drop in a bucket seeming inconsequential until another drop and another and many, many more are added in. Keep it coming. Keep doing the work. Let others see and feel your actions. Let those who are so motivated do the same or similar actions. Let them try another course of action. Let everything build.

 

A Book of Action was inspired by a quote from the Dalai Lama: “Just as ripples spread out when a single pebble is dropped into water, the actions of individuals can have far-reaching effects.” The book begins with a key question: “How do I make a difference?”

 

Yeah, we all feel that little old me syndrome from time to time. I hear people who are less hopeful opt out with the defeatist statement, “What difference does it make?”

 

All I know is I have control over my own thoughts and actions. I always believe in doing what I can. For the issues that matter most to me, I must move beyond talking the talk. I must walk the walk. Actions matter.

 

As the book reminds us, “Beautiful things start with just One.” 

 

One seed to start a garden.

One stroke to start a masterpiece.

One note to start a melody. 

 

Starting matters. That first action is the root of bigger things, sometimes even a movement. Not every action will have legs, but it’s worth giving it a go and seeing if it might. It’s worth checking out online what people are doing and adopting your own version of an action or actions that seem within your ability.

 

 

The book reminds us that that pebble drop in water the Dalai Lama referred to can create ripples and, with enough pebbles dropped, we can imagine ripples evolving into swells, then waves. 

 

It’s time to act. Try something. Try something else. Comment on and acknowledge what others are doing. Action feels so much better than sitting, stewing and fretting. 

 

I may be reading I Am One: A Book of Action on the daily for the next while. The book itself calms me and reminds me of opportunity, pushing me past passivity. 

 

Again, it’s time to act. 

 

What will it be?

 

 

 

 

JUST VOTE

I lived in the U.S. for sixteen years and never voted. 

 

Sure, I was underaged for the first several years, having moved from Ontario, Canada to East Texas when I was thirteen. But then came the years from eighteen to twenty-nine where I couldn’t vote because I was a legal immigrant—a permanent resident—but not a citizen. The rest of my family became citizens and I know they all vote (three Republican voters, one Independent). I had no say in Presidents Reagan, Bush or Clinton getting elected. 

 

I would have loved to have voted, but I had moved kicking and screaming from Ontario. I was proudly Canadian. It was the one part of my identity that seemed fixed as I struggled to figure out and then live according to my sexual orientation.

 

To teach in U.S. public schools, I had to declare an intention to become a citizen. I had to show that things were in-process. That declaration gave me a year of using my Texas university degree to teach in a public elementary school. But I’d done nothing to move things forward during that time. I didn’t want citizenship to be about my job; I felt it needed to be a bigger, deeper decision.

 

I don’t recall that anyone was awaiting proof I’d taken a step forward, but I began to look for other options as I prepared to give up teaching. I moved to Malibu and went to law school, an excellent step for coming out at least. (Hello, West Hollywood!) There was much to like about California, a place where I connected far more than in Texas. I knew after the first year of law school that practicing law would not be my lifelong career, but I stuck it out (mostly because I didn’t have a Plan B), got the degree and worked for a couple of years as a lawyer. 

 

I might have stayed in L.A., might have tried to get an entry-level position in the entertainment industry after touching base with a key contact, but the city wore me down. First, the Rodney King riots in April-May 1992 (during which I got shot at), killing sixty-three and then the Northridge earthquake of January 1994, killing fifty-seven. These events plus the general dog-eat-dog tone I felt in the city wore me down. I quit both L.A. and law. I moved to Canada, settling in Vancouver. 

 

Youth won.
(The one on the left.)

The only national election I participated in was the U.S. Post Office’s 1992 presentation of two options for an Elvis Presley stamp—either a classic hip-shaking, thinner, younger Elvis or a slightly fuller-faced image of Elvis from later in his career. I can’t even recall which one I voted for. The stakes just weren’t that great. 

 

Not like now. Not like this election, not just for president but for Senate and House seats, for governor positions and for all sorts of state and local posts.

 

I could say—and you could too—that, as a Canadian, it’s none of my business. It’s America’s decision. But it matters in Canada. We often dissociate ourselves from American matters, but they impact us on a daily basis. Canadian culture is not that different. We are influenced. Our neighbor to the south (along with the state of Alaska) has a population nine times greater than us. In many ways, the U.S. overshadows us. 

 

Politically, there’s some copycat business happening based on Republican politics and the larger-than-life, can’t-mute-him Donald Trump. The province of Alberta seems to desperately want to be Texas’ cousin. The leader of the Conservative Party of Canada, Pierre Poilievre, has adopted hateful, smarmy soundbites that seem to come straight from Trump’s playbook (if Trump actually has a playbook). Trump and the MAGA movement have impacted not just the U.S. for the worse in terms of political discourse and basic civility, they’ve gained a whole lot of followers in Canada. Attention-seekers, I feel. People who like their politics to have an entertainment element akin to WWE wrestling.

 

I am exhausted from the lead-up to this election. Frankly, I’ve been worn down from Trump being Trump since 2015 when the media started seeing value in reporting every outrageous comment he made—increased sales, viewers and click-bait. The lies, the hate and the crassness should have led to a quick dismissal of the candidate but his brand of politicking has only become more popular. We are devaluing society while seemingly embracing the don’t-give-a-fuck mindset. Let the cesspool bubble at the top. 

 

I’ve begged my saner Republican friends and relatives in the U.S. to back off the Trump vote. I realize the Harris campaign has rallied to get Republicans to vote for the Democratic candidate just this once—for the sake of sending a message about civility, for holding up the basic principles of American democracy—and, yes, I hope many people do this. It’s the right kind of message to send to Trump, MAGA and Trump copycats (yes, you, Mr. Poilievre). 

 

But there is another viable option. Longtime Republicans can leave the choice for president blank. This is for people who can’t stomach Trump but also can’t espouse the Democrats’ platform. Let a vote Trump counted on be denied. 

 

Of course, it would be a rare Republican to read my blog and heed my advice. (Heed it, please.)

 

If any Americans read this, a weekly post on Aging Gayly, it’s far more likely to be someone who is centrist or left-leaning. Nine hundred words into this essay, I’ll repeat the one thing you should take away from this: VOTE!

 

If you’ve done so, encourage those fence-sitters who don’t think it matters, don’t want to sacrifice precious time in their day and/or don’t feel Harris will be progressive enough. Surely, her positions come hella closer than Trump’s. (I’m being generous in saying Trump has positions other than using the office as a revenge pulpit.) 

 

I’m still not American and still I care. This is me, doing my part.

 

VOTE. 

 

ALIGN YOUR ALLIES

There’s a wonderful clip of Democratic Vice Presidential nominee Tim Walz speaking before the Human Rights Campaign this past weekend. He says, “It’s easy to be an ally when it’s easy to be an ally. What really matters is knowing who’s going to be at your side and stand up when it’s hard.” He said this after sharing an anecdote about stepping up to be the advisor to the Gay-Straight Alliance at the high school where we worked as a coach and teacher in the ’90s.

 

I was a teacher then as well. I worked in elementary school and we didn’t have GSAs at the time. Still, I’m not sure I would have stepped up had I been asked. In some regards, Coach Walz was bolder than me. I would like to think I would have done it, but I know I would have at least hesitated. I would have told myself it would be easier for a straight coach to take on the role. Coach Walz married his wife, Gwen, in 1994. Any whispers about him being gay (since he supported a gay club) would not have gained traction and, even if they had, he could easily shake them off. He was a straight man, no doubt about it. 

 

I, on the other hand, was openly gay on staff. It was easy at that particular school since three other gay men were on the faculty. One of them zeroed in on me on my first day subbing at the school before I landed a regular position. I was not out among students and parents. One parent suspected I was gay and, during the first week of school went to the principal to demand that her daughter be assigned to a different grade seven classroom. The principal acquiesced. The episode shook me. The student really liked me from my days subbing at the school. I know she’d have been highly motivated in my class and she’d have thrived. But mama was a homophobe and the principal liked “problems” to go away ASAP.

 

I became more closeted at all the schools I worked at thereafter. There wasn’t another gay colleague on any of those staffs. I never shook that worry that someday everything might blow up on me. Multiple parents would complain, students would be in the know and snicker constantly in class, my credibility tarnished by a distraction. What if a student made a false allegation? I never came out again to any group at any school. I felt certain staff knew and many parents as well but no one raised the subject and I grew resentful of always having to make what felt like dramatic reveals about my sexual orientation in any area of my life. I grew very adept at handling gay putdowns when students would try to belittle one another. These were teachable moments and I never shied away from them. I was an unofficial ally, but I never stepped up specifically as a role model. 

 

Hats off to the Coach Walzes of the world. Hats off to the queer teachers who had photos of their partners proudly displayed on their desks. (Most of my years, I didn’t have a partner. Pics of my schnauzers assumed prominent spots on my desk instead.)

 

Whether it is for students or for adults who identify as something under the LGBTQ+ umbrella, allies are still vital. Allies need to be seen and heard now as much as at any point in my lifetime. We have had allies step up during the AIDS crisis, when the right to work in the military was at stake, when protections from housing and employment discrimination were up for debate and when gay adoption and marriage equality were at play.

 

Queer rights remain at issue. For my entire life, they have been used for political purposes to drive a wedge between voting blocs, to divide based on differences rather than to unite in spite of them. (Oh, how refreshing it would be to be embraced and accepted, once and for all! In my lifetime? Still a dream.)

 

Now is a time to forsake timidity—my old standby demeanor—and embrace the boldness within us. It is time to actively support the queers with the biggest target on their backs: trans and non-binary folks. It is time to engage in conversation to better understand what trans people are up against. If you don’t have a trans friend or acquaintance or if they don’t feel like bearing the weight of educating everyone for whom they are the token trans friend/acquaintance, then there is plenty that can be read through podcasts, firsthand blogs and published memoirs. Dig a little. Get out of your bubble. 

 

I fully believe that denials of trans rights will embolden haters to rollback other queer rights. Pride festivals, most of which are over and done with for this year, create an illusion of acceptance and may instill a sense of complacency rather than empowerment. Look at our numbers! Bigger than a Trump crowd!

 

On the macro level, Pride celebrations are easy events in terms of queer participation and allyship. (Yes, at a micro level, a questioning or newly out person makes bold steps attending any Pride function. I shook with both excitement and fear—what if I’m on news footage?—when I went to my first parade.)

 

Globally, there are swings to the right, as happened recently in Germany and as I fear will happen in the next Canadian federal election. All eyes seem to be on the U.S. right now and the stakes couldn’t be higher in terms of free press, democracy, women’s rights and, yes, LGBTQ rights. Trans people are being played in a political version of Fear Factor with ludicrous talk about girls losing places on sports teams, children undergoing operations while at school and, still, invasions of bathroom spaces. Indignancy about pronouns gets tossed in, too. All this goes unchecked in conservative media, for many their chosen—and only—source of “news.” All this also riles up those who don’t know queer people, who don’t hear about queer experiences, who don’t see how much alike queer people are to them. 

 

It's time for queers to do a little bonding. It’s also time for allies to have the conversations that queers get shut down from having. This would be one of those times that Tim Walz is referring to as when it’s harder to be an ally. These talks can make a difference, maybe not with too-far-gone Uncle JD (don’t bother; just keep away to protect your sanity), but with sheltered cousin Ken and good-at-heart neighbor Carol.

 

When my parents, who live in Texas, visited in June, I talked about more of my own negative experiences. I got very specific about what felt like homophobic harassment on several occasions with U.S. Border Patrol agents. I talked about my trans friend who has gone through a momentous year in terms of their journey to live their true identity. I talked as well about how trans people are being used as pawns.

 

At first, my parents tried to shrug things off. “Oh, that’s just Trump,” and “We vote based on other issues.” But I persisted. They have the privilege of shrugging because they are not targeted. But this rising culture of hate is deeply personal to me and choosing to vote based on other issues does not send a clear message that hate will not be tolerated. It tacitly allows it. These politicians take my parents, lifelong conservatives, fiscally especially, for granted. In the pocket. Without taking a stand, or at least not voting in certain political races, homophobe-pedaling politicians keep the traditional conservatives while riling and building up a base that does respond to unchecked allegations of They/Thems taking over the country, somehow taking something away from lowercase them. 

 

Eventually my parents said, “We didn’t know.” (They are Wall Street Journal readers rather than Fox News watchers.) I knew this was the right moment for me to say with conviction, “It affects me. This is personal. This affects your son and so many other people just trying to live their own normal lives.” 

 

It got quiet after that. When people truly listen, they also need time to process. 

 

Did they shift?

 

Maybe? A little bit? 

 

I had my say. I know that. It’s time for LGBTQ+ people and our allies to step into this harder time, to make sure loved ones living in conservative bubbles hear another side. Truth. It’s time to be polite—shouting and putdowns aren’t going to create forums for listening much less lead to progress—but resolute. LGBTQ+ issues matter. Our advocacy, as queers or allies, is essential.

SECOND THOUGHTS

I’m shaking my head again.

 

I’m fuming, I’m frustrated.

 

I am so tired of the Second Amendment protecting guns, not people. I’m astounded that classrooms of schoolchildren, churchgoers, mall browsers, grocery shoppers and concert attendees put their lives at risk, doing normal things while killers slaughter them with AR-15s and other firearms. It floors me that walking about while toting a gun is considered an equally normal thing. I’m incensed that LGBTQ carnage didn’t stop with the Pulse massacre in Orlando. I’m deeply troubled that five more people have been gunned down in a gay bar, this time in Colorado Springs. 

 

All of this, it seems, is just the cost of preserving the hallowed Second Amendment. Guns are as sacred as the Bible in the God-blessed United States. It’s pure insanity.

 

Once again, NRA members and NRA-funded politicians will say it’s people, not guns, that are at issue. It’s unchecked psychoses and neuroses. Let’s demonize people with mental health conditions if we must; anything it takes to keep guns at the ready in case of emergency.

 

Drag story hour protesters

“Emergencies” like last month when protesters crowded around a gay bar in Oregon, objecting to a drag queen story hour. Yes, reports are that protesters felt a need to carry guns. Drag queens are scary apparently. This warps and contorts the concept of peaceful protest and assembly. It’s blatant intimidation. I can’t even get my head around the fact someone would take a gun to a protest of any kind. Signs and yelling aren’t enough to make a statement. Gotta pack the gun. This is legal. This is America.

 

There are 20 million AR-15 guns in the United States. That’s just an estimate. There isn’t a gun registry in the U.S. Only six states have any kind of gun registry. So 20 million…ish. How is any kind of screening measure going to get it right in processing that many gun sales? If only 1% slip through the cracks, that means 200,000 of these ultra-destructive weapons are in the wrong hands. Even if 0.1 percent of AR-15s get in the hands of people who weren’t or couldn’t possibly be properly screened, that’s 20,000 guns in the hands of people who shouldn’t have them. How is that acceptable? How does that instill a sense of safety? The answer, to gun advocates is to buy more guns. Fight fire with fire.

 

Love guns, not people.

 

That’s what it comes down to. 

 

When grade one students were wiped out at Sandy Hook Elementary in Newtown, Connecticut ten years ago, I thought that would finally be the turning point. Americans would come together when their youngest citizens are no longer safe in a public school classroom. 

 

Nope. Alex Jones denied it ever happened. It was a ploy, he said. Actors pretended to be parents of dead kids. How heinous is that? And yet that’s what had to be done. People needed to latch onto conspiracies and fabrications instead of reflecting on how to balance gun rights with public safety and in lieu of grieving the loss of children and supporting the parents whose grief will always be with them.

 

Again, insanity.

 

Worse: depravity. 

 

Banning books seems
a greater issue than
banning assault weapons.

Now lockdown drills are standard procedure in schools. School nurses are a thing of the past and instead we have police or security guards in place. When I was in high school long, long ago, I heard about drug-sniffing dogs checking out student lockers. Talk now is about weapons detectors. If someone is shot in a school, the focus is on faulting security systems—the people, the checkpoints—instead of looking into gun control legislation that might make schools, churches, malls, grocery stores, concert venues and bars safer. The concept of limits on guns for the sake of the greater good is flatly rejected. What could possibly be greater than the Second Amendment?

 

The LGBTQ community must not be complacent when hate is spewed at school board meetings, in state assemblies and in Congress. We must push back—hard—on politicians and candidates who foster fear and hate to fill campaign coffers and get their base to the polls. The old playbook of portraying queers as freaks and perverts must be shredded. Our dignity is at issue but, more immediately, our safety is at stake. There are vulnerable, hateful citizens who hear the rhetoric of “respected” or at least elected officials and see it as a call to arms…and worse.

 

Political activism is embedded in LGBTQ history. It must continue. Take a break from posting gym selfies, get informed and make your voice heard. I don’t want to read about “the next Colorado Springs” and yet I know there will be another tragedy if nothing changes. 

 

Retweet this post if you think it’s worthy. Write your own or tweet your thoughts. Speak up when you hear misinformation. Question people who defend access to assault weapons. We must do all we can to stop the insanity.