People sometimes ask how Rebecca and I met. It was actually a little more than 9 years ago at Welcome Week at Michigan State, and we were living on the same honors floor. We didn't hit it off, but we eventually ended up roommates and then best friends.
Things got complicated, and I guess even after all this time I'm not comfortable sharing some of that tension and complexity in such a public forum. But suffice it to say that the plot line of our love story would probably not make the most terrible movie. We've been asked to tell the story at more than one dinner party (if you do want to hear the details, let me know when you're coming).
Why would this be such a good story? For starters, Rebecca and I seem to have little in common. She was an engineering major while I was in education and the humanities. She was from rural west Michigan while I was from the rolling suburbs of Detroit. My childhood was highly structured while hers was not. I was religious and she was a scientist. And of course, there's the fact that we both thought we were straight.
Not only was I very religious and thought I was straight, I was the kind of religious person who believed that:
Being gay is a choice
If being gay is not a choice, it can be fixed.
Most gay people are gay because they were sexually abused as children.
Being gay is a sin.
Gay people were nothing like me.
You probably know the type.
I also for a long time thought I wanted a white picket fence, two children, a dog, and to be a stay-at-home mom. She thought she wanted to be a pharmaceutical engineer making six figures.
As we fell in love, both of us began to see new perspectives, dream new dreams, and expand our worlds. She decided she wanted to be a doctor. I decided to go to graduate school. I realized that some of the things I wanted defied traditional gender stereotypes.
The night we came out to each other, the night we admitted that we were in love, a transformation that was already budding in me blossomed. I realized that I had many misconceptions about the gay community and that I had lacked compassion in my thoughts and actions. I realized that I was giving up privilege I hadn't realized I had. I started to commit to fight for civil rights I had believed were unnecessary before. I have been through a great deal of pain in the last five years between coming out and losing my brother. I have begun to realize how much I don't know about people. I have started to understand that if I'm making a choice, I should choose love. Not the judgy kind of love I used to think people needed. I'm trying, every day, to choose gracious love. The kind of love that is given unconditionally. I'm not there yet, but it's where I'm called, and I don't think I would be where I am today on that path if I had never fallen for my wife.
People sometimes ask me how I can make excuses for people who haven't completely embraced LGBT equality or gay affirmation. They're surprised that I still speak to my family. They think it is a cop out to call some of my friends and family members more progressive than others when they still did not attend my weddings.
I attempt to extend grace (although I don't always manage) because I have been there, and because honestly, I probably still would be there if not for Rebecca. I don't know if they'll ever travel farther, and I'm not sure if any will arrive to where I stand. But as I've said before, I'm trying to choose love and hoping that they will too.
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