Gay and Transgender Issues in the Workplace

     President Barack Obama is, I believe, our nation’s Director of Diversity and Inclusion. Like his counterparts in the corporate world, he seems to firmly believe in creating an environment in which all citizens feel safe and valued. It’s too bad that he doesn’t have as much leeway as his corporate counterparts in disciplining citizens who create hostile working and living conditions for others. At the very least, he ought to be able to mandate their attendance at a diversity class in which they would understand the impact of their behavior on others and how it undermines the nation’s values. (I think it would be great if Rush Limbaugh was required to attend such a class. I’d love to have him in one of mine.)

     If U.S. Congressman Barney Frank and Supreme Court Justice Antonin Scalia were employed by the same corporation, both of them would be required to take diversity training because of on the job behavior.   

     Barney, who like Oprah, is immediately recognized by many people by the use of just his first name, created a stir this week by suggesting that Justice Scalia is homophobic. Now, most people who have heard or read Justice Scalia’s comments on homosexuality would probably agree. I feel that he’s our Anita Bryant on the Supreme Court. Justice Scalia makes no excuses for his socially conservative Catholic views. He refuses to use the word gay without quote marks and he refers to same-sex intimacy as homosexual sodomy. When it comes to gay issues, he has, I feel, no ability to check his biases at the door of the workplace.

      In a corporate setting, Justice Scalia wouldn’t be allowed to make disparaging remarks about gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender people regardless of his rank or religious affiliation. He would, in fact, be asked to use the term gay rather than the more formal term homosexual. Corporate employees are protected from the culture wars by policies that underscore the value of diversity in the workforce. I suspect that Justice Scalia would feel quite isolated by his views. I’ve not met any corporate manager in the past ten years who was anywhere near as rigid in his socially conservative views as Justice Scalia. (I’d love to have him in one of my corporate presentations too. I think I might have an impact on his thinking.)

     But, nor would my friend Congressman Frank, if employed in a corporation, be allowed to refer to Antonin Scalia in the workplace as a homophobe. Such labeling, though possibly true, is also in violation of corporate policy. It contributes to the creation of a hostile work environment in which no one can be expected to produce at their highest level. If Barney had an issue with Antonin, he would be encouraged to take it up with his manager and then with Human Resources. They in turn would have the obligation to approach Antonin to discuss the impact of his behavior on his colleagues. If he persisted, they would explain, he could be discharged.

     Having worked in the Church, in the media, in government, and in corporate settings, I feel that if every employee in every workplace was guided by the principle of valuing diversity that has been incorporated by nearly every major company in the western world, the earth would be a much more civil and safe place to exist.

     Can we imagine what life in the United States might be like if every radio talk show host was required to speak in a respectful way of all groups of people? What if they were told that any words from him that created a hostile environment for others would result in the termination of employment?

     What if respect for diversity was the guideline in every major religious denomination, in every election campaign, in all immigration debates, and in all matters of governance?

     What if everyone in the Armed Forces, regardless of rank, was required to be respectful of everyone else’s difference? If they were employees of a U.S. corporation, they would be. So would police officers, prison guards, and border patrols.

     Today, gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people have a much better chance of being treated with respect and feeling safe in the corporate workplace than they do anywhere else in their lives. It’s easier for me to advise a gay person where to work than it is where to worship. It’s likelier that they will find justice in the Human Resource Office of their workplace than in the legislative or judicial branches of their government.

     Perhaps that will change. Perhaps our new President and the First Lady will inspire a new tone in our dealings with one another. They and everyone else, I feel, could profit greatly by being familiar with the extraordinary model of valuing diversity that now directs all corporate business.

  ***

www.brian-mcnaught.com 

     At a meeting this week in Atlanta of former Surgeon General David Satcher’s Advisory Board on matters of national sexual health, our very diverse group was asked to brainstorm on five or more things we believe will happen in the next fifty years that would influence how we strategize to meet our goals. I suggested:

     *The U.S. will be bilingual;

     *China and India will be the superpowers that influence world culture;

     *Newspapers and books printed on paper will disappear;

     *A gay person and his or her legally-recognized same-sex spouse and their children will be in the White House;

     *Wars will be fought over water;

     *Young people won’t feel the need to label their sexual orientation;

     *Religion will lose its influence in the U.S. as it has in Europe.

     On my way back to Ft. Lauderdale from Atlanta, I sat next to a woman with whom I struck up a conversation when she asked me about the Amazon Kindle from which I was reading. I ended up telling her what I had been doing in Atlanta, that I wrote and spoke on gay issues, and that I was eager to get home. In response to my query about her work, she told me that she had recently been on Dick Cheney’s staff as his political advisor. I shared that I was a lifelong Democrat and didn’t agree with most of what the Bush administration had done, but that I suspect the reason we didn’t have a constitutional amendment barring gay marriage was that Cheney’s love for his daughter Mary prompted him to privately block all such efforts. My traveling companion didn’t confirm or deny my theory, but simply smiled and said, “They’re a very close family.” We shook hands as we departed the plane and I watched her walk ahead of me toward baggage claim, on her way to meet a new client as a public relations consultant.

     When I got home, our Sun-Sentinel newspaper had an editorial cartoon that had a dinosaur wandering off with the name “Naugle” on his back, indicating that the man with antiquated, hostile attitudes toward gay people was finally leaving office as mayor of Ft. Lauderdale.

     My traveling companion on the plane is not a dinosaur, but like Jim Naugle, she does represent to me the passing of an era in which conservative fundamentalists have had far too much influence over the lives of most Americans who did not share those beliefs. It’s my feeling that we have spent way too much time and given way too much attention to those people with “strongly-held” religious beliefs. It’s been true not just in government and in our efforts to address matters of national sexual health, such as whether condoms are an acceptable tool that will help us stop the spread of AIDS, but also in the workplace. We have been preoccupied with the feelings of a small handful of religious conservatives who object to every effort made to create a safe and welcoming environment for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people.

     By way of illustration, at the end of a recent workshop that I conducted, I was asked to model answers for three questions that are often posed in the workplace by those who oppose corporate support of gay people. Here are the questions and my responses:

    Can a person change his or her sexual orientation?

    Psychiatrists have had some success in helping bisexual people focus their erotic feelings on people of the other gender, but no one has ever successfully changed his or her heterosexual or homosexual orientation. Behavior and Identity can be changed but feelings of attraction can’t be forced to change. Even the founders and leaders of the so-called “ex-gay” movement will acknowledge that their clients are unable to completely eliminate their erotic feelings of same-sex attraction. Besides prayer and 12 Step approaches, other techniques used to “change” feelings of attraction that have been tried unsuccessfully include shock treatments, castration, and lobotomies. Homosexual men were subjected to horrible experiments in concentration camps and in mental institutions throughout the world, including in the United States. The American Psychiatric Association and the American Psychological Association have both warned about the negative consequences of “reparative” therapies.

     How can people with conservative religious or conservative social views feel fully valued in a corporation that fully values its gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender employees?

     Most employees with conservative religious or social beliefs understand that they are not only protected against discrimination because of their status and identity as people with such affiliations or tenets, but also valued for the unique contributions they make to the workplace because of their beliefs. But an employee who feels that being fully valued at work means that his or her personal moral values or beliefs will be embraced and incorporated by their employer, set themselves up for disappointment. Corporations want employees to “bring their full selves,” including their personal values, to work, but not to impose their values on their colleagues. A person, for instance, who believes strongly that abortion is murder, might wish that women who had abortions be fired by their employer, but if that is his or her criteria for feeling valued by the company he or she will be let down. Social or religious conservatives generally take issue with the sexual behavior of gay men and women. Corporations take no position on such behavior anymore than they do on divorce, co-habitation, or atheism.

   Doesn’t the “Safe Space” program single gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people out for special treatment? (In “Safe Space” programs, heterosexuals place a magnet in their office to indicate that the space is safe for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. The magnet usually has the symbol of the pink triangle or the rainbow flag.)

   Many companies are taking or permitting extra steps such as the “Safe Space” program in their attempts to create a safe and productive work environment for gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender employees because they know that at this time in history these particular issues of diversity are more challenging for their employees than some others, such as race and gender, which in the past required extra attention like affirmative action and mandatory training on sexual harassment. The magnets that depict the pink triangle (that homosexuals were forced to wear in concentration camps), surrounded by the green circle (the international symbol of permission) are successfully used by companies as reminders of acceptance in the same way that symbols of a cigarette surround by a red circle and slash (the international symbol of prohibition) are used effectively by companies as reminders of their policy on smoking in the building..The program also exists because gay and transgender employees developed it and offered it as a suggestion to their employers as an effective means of creating a safe work environment. Other employees who feel that certain groups of employees feel unsafe and unvalued at work can also develop programs aimed at creating more productive work environments and suggest their use to management.

     At some point in the next fifty years, when those who follow this generation will be bilingual and more focused on the need to conserve water, I believe they will read in their electronic newspapers about the freedom most Americans feel from religion.

www.brian-mcnaught.com

     My shoes are off and I’m on my back on my hotel room sofa recharging my battery after a long, challenging day with nineteen employees, divided evenly between gay and straight, who have completed the first day of intense training to educate their colleagues on gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender workplace issues. My guess is that these courageous volunteers are either still at the office or at home wearily making dinner for their families.

     Many of these members of Merck’s Employee Resource Group GLEAM (Gay and Lesbian Employees and Allies at Merck) spend 10 hours at work on an average day but have committed themselves to the enormous demands and personal challenges of a “Train the Trainer” session because they want to help make sure their workplace feels safe for everyone. In response to my pre-training questions, many of them told me that they were excited but afraid of not being good enough to be effective spokespersons for Merck’s Office of Diversity and Inclusion. They didn’t yet know how to answer the tough questions they anticipated getting when training the company’s managers in offices and plants across the country.

     Like their colleagues from Chubb, whose work had inspired them, all of the men and women at Merck  had made great sacrifices to be with me for the two eight-hour days. Their company had just completed a major acquisition so their colleagues were all in overdrive. Being the best and brightest in their fields, their enormous workloads were piling up and would need to be addressed when we were finished with the sessions. Some of them had to negotiate with their union so as not to have to take vacation days to participate.

      For two of the gay men, English was their second language, one being from Brazil, and the other from Malaysia. One straight black man was a deacon in his church, the head of a men’s group and an officer in his union. He signed up to learn how to educate others on gay issues because his deeply beloved godfather was a gay man who died of AIDS. But not all of the heterosexuals who took on this herculean task of training did so because they had a close personal connection to someone who was gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender. One woman, motivated by a sense of injustice, did it simply because she met another straight ally who impressed her with her commitment to the issue.

      I met these men and women for the first time last night at dinner and by 5 o’clock tonight they had my heart and my greatest respect. I wish you could have been in the room with me today to watch them each face down their nervous fears of standing in front of others to tell their stories and to present a diversity curriculum they only recently had been able to review. Often in these situations, I experience myself with tear-filled eyes because I’m so deeply moved by the sights and sounds of people working so hard and so selflessly on an issue that has touched my life so dramatically, and on which for many years I and a handful of others felt we were doing battle nearly alone. We weren’t, of course, but most of the walking wounded I know from the early days of the movement also remember the feelings of isolation and loneliness I encountered. At times, the task seemed overwhelming.

     But today, there are armies of diversity soldiers who have assembled across the globe, at least half of them straight allies, who are determined to make the world a safer place for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people. Many do so at great sacrifice to themselves and to their families. So, when I work with these frontline warriors in corporations, in churches, and in communities, I try very hard to have them fully realize how incredibly impactful their work is to the lives of others who will never know how to thank them.

      I tell you about my experiences this week at Merck and my awareness of similar programs being conducted elsewhere with the hope that it might comfort and inspire you, and that if you have the opportunity to do so, that you might thank these men and women when you meet them.

          I’m so very proud of my new friends. My hat is off as well as my shoes.

     “Tell me how you became an ally?” I asked in advance of helping a straight woman effectively speak on our behalf in the workplace. She eloquently wrote a powerful tale of her two gay uncles and the very different reactions they got from her family.

  *  *  *

     My “uncle” Bill was not really an uncle, but rather a close friend of the family. Bill and my parents went to college together and, as such, I’d known him my whole life. As a kid, he was the funniest person I knew. He was “over the top” funny. He’d get down on the ground with you and roll around; he’d do impersonations; sing and dance; and make you laugh until you cried. Growing up, Bill was always a presence in my life. There was never a point where I wondered if he were gay or straight - I just always new. He was “out” in every sense of the word.

     I remember meeting his different partners over the years, walking around the city with them on the weekends, and eventually sharing holidays with he and his current partner.  Growing up, my mom would often share stories with me about Bill. She’d tell me hilarious stories about the two of them in college – about when they were in plays together, the first time Bill met my grandparents, or legendary stories about Bill at parties. She also shared stories about how when they were in college he struggled to find his identity, that as a child in Catholic school he was never able to be himself, and that as an adult he had struggled through the loss of friends to HIV/AIDS. 

     My mom talked to me about Bill in the same way she talked to me about any of her other friends. As a child, I never saw Bill’s life as being different than mine or any of the other straight people I knew.  Growing up with “Uncle Bill” has had a lasting impact.  Once an adult, there was never a question how I felt about gay people, where I stood on issues related to gay rights, whether or not I was an “ally.” Because of Bill, my first experience with a gay person was not about knowing a “gay person,” but rather it was about knowing a great, funny, loving, caring uncle. My stance on matters related to equal rights in many ways was formed at a young age by being given the opportunity to share in his life in this way.

     But that isn’t where my story as an ally ends. In fact, I think it only begins with Bill. My life as an ally was also greatly impacted by my uncle Robert.

     Robert always lived away from us in New York City. He never missed a holiday or birthday. He was always there. As a kid, I thought he gave the best presents — always from fabulous stores where my mom wouldn’t shop. I loved his gifts!  As I was growing up, my family and I would go visit him about once a year and stay with him in New York. My uncle Robert was the fashionable, hip, cool relative – the total opposite from my parents. The fact that he was always alone seemed completely normal to me.  As I got older, I guess I may have wondered why he never dated or brought anyone with him, but it would be a fleeting thought. He was my uncle and this is the way it was. 

     At some point, once I was an adult, my mom shared a story with me, a story my grandmother shared with her years prior…

     When Robert was first living in New York, my grandmother surprised him with a visit – she was staying for a week. It wasn’t long after she arrived, that my uncle sat her down and explained that friends of his were going to be stopping by, and as a preemptive strike, (figuring that it would become obvious after she met his friends) he told her that he was gay. Now, this act of coming out itself may not be earth shattering; however, placed in the context of how the rest of my family reacted, it explains a lot. My grandmother responded with a comment akin to, “That’s nice dear,” stayed the rest of her trip making no mention of it, and came home and didn’t speak of the event for years.

     Years later, my grandmother told my mom the story. My mom immediately reacted with sadness. Her heart broke for him. Imagine coming out to your own mother and getting almost no reaction.  Keep in mind, my grandmother told my  mom this story years after her trip. My mom, so stricken with this news, came home and immediately told my dad about what his mother just shared. My dad’s reaction was, “My brother’s not gay – won’t believe it till he tells me himself.” And so, years after coming out to his mother, and being outed to his brother by my mom, the fact that my uncle is gay remains an unspoken truth in our family.

     To this day, my uncle remains in the closet with our family.  We still visit him and he still comes home for holidays – but he is always alone. My mom has never confronted him with the knowledge she has, but instead always extends an open invitation to him to invite anyone he wishes to our home. He never has. My dad continues to deny his brother’s lifestyle, and my brother and I don’t pry for fear of embarrassing him.

     I think about my uncle and his story and feel sad. I’m sure, from the stories he shares, that he has a very full life; however, he doesn’t share that with his family. What must this be like? How transformational must that moment have been when he came out to my grandmother and she swept it under the rug, such that he never broached the subject with a family member again.  What keeps him from sharing his “whole self” with his own family now, despite the fact that his parents have passed away? And, what I think about most with his story as it relates to what we hope to do with this training – what does it mean for me that I am a “straight ally?” If any of us had truly been allies, would we approach my uncle and make sure he felt comfortable to share his whole self with us? Or, do we respect his decision to keep his life separate?

     After some reflection, I think the common thread in both these stories is the presence of allies (or lack thereof). In my “uncle” Bill’s case, my parents were his allies. In turn, they raised me in such a way that I could become an ally myself – seeing him first for the wonderful person he is, and then as a gay man.

     When I think of my uncle Robert, I think if only he had had an ally within the family, someone he trusted enough to lean on during his decision to come out. When my grandmother proved not to be an ally – and then when my father also chose to ignore the truth - would the presence of someone else have been enough to help him bring his “whole self” to our family? I have to think, no matter how close our family is or how many holidays we spend together; he does not see us as his allies. I don’t blame him. I just wish it were different.

     When I look at my parent’s role in both these stories I wonder why then, they couldn’t have been the same kind of ally they were for Bill for my uncle Robert. I guess that, in the end, being an ally – defining yourself as such – is not just about supporting gay rights or equal opportunity, but it’s about supporting people. It’s about taking the time to understand what the gay people in your life need from you and what being an ally means to them. 

               *  *  *

     Another lesson to be learned, I think, is that we gay people help create the responses we get from others.

          The Human Rights Campaign (HRC) gives out too many “100%” ratings to corporations.   

          If a teacher gives every pupil an “A” as a grade, he or she has eliminated the incentive to learn and to improve. My French teacher in college had a crush on me and she gave me the answers to the final exam. I loved the help but she should have failed me. I wasn’t ready for French II, which I failed because I had a different teacher. I had to write an extra-credit paper to graduate.

         I liked my French teacher, just as I like very much Daryl Herrschaft and Samir Luther, the two very hard-working men at HRC who grade corporations. But the 260 “A”s they awarded companies in 2008 eliminates the incentive of those companies to actually create a safe and productive work environment for gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender employees and consumers. Most gay and transgender people who work at companies with 100% rating are still afraid to come out of the closet because non-discrimination policies and domestic partner benefits do not change corporate culture.

     No corporation should receive an “A” unless it provides across-the-board comprehensive diversity training on gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender workplace issues. To get 100% from HRC, a company is required to say that they provide education on the topic, but HRC’s five out of 100 points for mentioning gay issues during training and their five out of 100 points for mentioning transgender issues during training are give-aways. Only a handful of companies, to my knowledge, actually provide their employees at all levels the information they need to walk the company’s talk on valuing diversity. Why should they do so when they know that other companies are getting a 100% rating from HRC just for saying that they include the subjects in diversity training? Where’s the incentive to improve?

     Out of the possible 100 points that can be secured by a corporation, HRC should assign at least 25 points, if not more, for comprehensive diversity training specifically on gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender issues to which every employee would be expected to attend. As much as I love and respect HRC for its workplace efforts, I have been frustrated for years by its lack of focus on the real means of transforming the workplace. The reason that I keep pushing them to place more value on training is that my 34 years experience as an educator on these issues underscores the reality that policies don’t change behaviors. Awareness changes behavior. Awareness comes from education, not from company ideals.

     When the Employment Non-Discrimination Act (ENDA), which will prohibit discrimination against gay and transgender people in the workplace, is passed this year or next by Congress and signed into law by the President, what will HRC do then with the 30 points they currently assign to such corporate policies? Hint. Hint. Add them to the score for training and don’t give the company that says it provides education an “A” unless they prove it and really deserve it.

     “I recently had a male employee that lost his Life Partner. I did struggle with how to share the news as while he is somewhat open about his relationship I wasn’t really sure how to handle the situation. I know his close personal friends/co-workers knew of his relationship but I didn’t want to share too much with the branch. However, looking at it from my perspective, if I lost my husband, I would want everyone to know so they could be sensitive to the issue.”

 *  * *

     Thank you for your thoughtfulness and sensitivity. Your instincts are right on target. You don’t want to share information with your employees about their colleague being gay, and yet you don’t want to have your grieving employee feel there is a double standard on how gay family issues are handled. Nor do you want your employee to return to a workplace in which people show no awareness of, or sensitivity to, his significant loss.

     If I was your gay employee and Ray died, I would want the support of people at work who knew I was gay and with whom I was friends, but I wouldn’t want to spend my time at the wake or funeral educating others about my relationship. When I returned to work, I’d want people to understand that my world, as I knew it, had ended tragically, but I wouldn’t want to have to guess who knew and who didn’t know that I was gay and grieving.

     Yet there are gay men and women throughout the world who would feel very differently from me, and that’s the challenge you face. It seems to me that the key elements to consider are:

1.      What’s the company’s practice when the spouse or child of a heterosexual employee dies? Are flowers sent? Are memos circulated? Does a representative of the firm attend the wake, funeral, or memorial service?

     I suggest that you consult with Human Resources if you’re unsure of the company’s “best practice.” If the company has a standard operating procedure for these situations, try your best to provide an equal response when the employee is gay, lesbian, bisexual, or transgender.

2.      What’s in the best interest of the employee?

       I’d find out, to the best of your ability, what response the employee would prefer. You don’t want to compound the emotional stress they are already experiencing. If your relationship with your bereaved employee is personally close, you could visit with him in person (or call if necessary) and share with him your concern. You might say, “Is there anything I can do to support you at this time? How would you like me to handle news of your loss in the office? If it was me whose spouse had died, I’d want my colleagues to be told so that they could, if they wanted, show support by sending flowers, attending the wake and/or the funeral, or by being sensitive to my feelings when I returned to work. But you may not feel that way.”

     Lacking a close personal relationship with the employee, I would explain my dilemma to someone at work who I knew was a close personal friend of his and I’d ask if he or she would discreetly inquire how the widowed person would like the matter handled at work.

     In the absence of any personal connection with the gay or lesbian employee who has lost his or her spouse, I would consult with Human Resources and agree upon a plan. I would indicate to HR my intention to pay my personal respects by attending whatever public service, if any, is arranged.

3.      What is the most helpful approach to take with his or her colleagues?

If I was a colleague of a person who had suffered a great loss, I would want to be told so that I had the opportunity to show support, if even to volunteer to take on the person’s workload in their absence. At the very least, I would expect to be personally told, or to receive a memo, that explained that so-and-so has experienced a tragic loss in his/her family and will be out of work for awhile. I would like more information so that my comments to my colleague were appropriate and helpful when they returned and not unintentionally burdensome. But if they preferred that details not be given, I would respect that.

4.      What will best ensure that you and the company are seen by all persons concerned to truly value the diversity represented by each employee?

        Providing a sensitive, balanced, heartfelt response, both personally and as a representative of the company will communicate to everyone that they are valued, particularly if the same sensitive, balanced, heartfelt response is given both personally and as a representative of the company the next time the death of an employee’s spouse occurs.

       In these challenging situations at work, if you feel there is no help available to guide you in how best to respond, I think that it’s best to trust your heart and the wise voice inside you that says, “Treat them as you’d like to be treated.” Worry less about doing the wrong thing and more about doing the right thing. 

     The United States Federal Bureau of Investigation (FBI) had, as of the first of the year, 31,676 employees of which nearly 13,000 are special agents. Several years ago, my friend Mary Lee Tatum told me that she was at a Washington D.C. dinner party at which an FBI agent stated with full conviction to a room full of politicians and other capitol insiders that there were no homosexuals in the FBI. “Everyone at the table laughed,” she said.

     During the 48 years in which J. Edgar Hoover was the director of the FBI, there were probably no openly gay or transgender people in the organization. But today, there are, of course, out and proud gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgender people who work for the agency, as well as many, many men and women who are our strong allies there. One such outspoken ally is the cherished big brother of a dear lesbian friend, Kim Cromwell.

     Though he has recently retired from the FBI, Bob Cromwell was for many years one of the strongest voices and most influential leaders on our behalf. Every gay person at the agency who I know speaks of Bob with great respect. When I told Kim this week that I planned to write about Bob and the FBI, she replied:

     “Bob has been a wonderful ally in so many ways.  You might ask him about his work supporting transgendered people and about when he introduced Barney Frank at the Department of Justice.  While there are ‘big’ issues he’s championed, I must say that it’s probably the ‘little’ day-to-day conversations that Bob initiates which will change the world.  I frequently hear from people about Bob discussing our civil rights — our right to marry, the very dignity of our lives — with straight people he knows. Many of those people, I suspect, have never heard from a straight man who holds these issues so close to his heart.  I couldn’t ask for a better big brother.  He’s one of my best friends, and a true champion for equality.”

      I started thinking about Bob Cromwell and the FBI when he wrote me this week in response to last week’s blog.

     “Your blog is excellent.  As I have roamed through them, I have yet to be disappointed.  Your comment in your recent post concerning the brave transgender person reminded me of an agent in the FBI.  He was 10 years on the job, with a wife and two children, the best shot in the office, and the leader of his division’s SWAT Team; we’re talking a poster-child for Soldier of Fortune magazine.  After years of therapy, he concluded he was born a woman in a man’s body.  He went through the steps recommended for someone in his situation and announced to his friends and colleagues his intent to change gender.  It was not well received.  A request was even made to headquarters for a ‘lack of effectiveness’ transfer.  We found as a man, he was an aggressive agent doing work appreciated by the U.S. Attorney’s office and as a woman, nothing had changed.  She was an aggressive agent doing good work appreciated by the U.S. Attorney’s office.   And, I think it fair to say, she’s one very brave person. (I ended up putting together a Power Point with background provided by HRC on transgender issues and one of our Assistant Directors went out to the Division to educate them and lay the matter to rest.)”

     The FBI officially welcomes gay people to its ranks. The agency director, Robert Mueller, has stated:

     “We believe that the diversity of American society should be represented at all levels of the FBI…Today’s FBI demands that we become more diverse and we are working harder than ever to be more inclusive – for all people, regardless of ….sexual orientation.”

     Though I haven’t done any diversity work with the FBI, I suspect that like their sister organization, the National Security Agency (NSA) with which I have done training, it seeks to create an environment in which all employees feel not just accepted but valued so that they might attract and retain the best and brightest people. “Gender Identity and Expression” is not yet in the government’s Equal Opportunity statement but I believe that within the next couple of years, both gay and transgender people will be protected from discrimination on a national level by the passage of the Employment Non-Discrimination Act.

     Nevertheless, despite the assumption of an agent who probably has since retired that there were no homosexuals in the FBI, the agency seems to have done a good job of making sure that talented transsexuals aren’t lost despite the lack of legal protection, and that gay people and their strong allies like Bob Cromwell have the ability, through their own lives and words, to educate their colleagues on the issues. I want to believe that would ultimately have pleased J. Edgar Hoover. It has made it a stronger, more effective FBI.  

     (To learn more about Brian’s work and his educational resources, please go to www.brian-mcnaught.com.)

     In my youth, if someone called you a “homo” or a “moron,” the reply was usually, “It takes one to know one,” meaning “You’d have to be a homo to recognize another homo.” It was an inane comment but it usually shut them up more effectively than “So is your mother.”

     Today, that same phrase – “It takes one to know one” - has a completely different and much richer meaning for me.

     Alan Goldstein was the Jewish boy who lived behind me growing up in Flint, Michigan. He was my best friend for many years. It was through the time I spent with Alan and his family that I initially learned about Jewish celebrations such as Hanukkah, and also about the sting of anti-Semitism which I saw in Alan’s face when another Christian eight-year-old in the neighborhood called him a “kike.”

     Dr. Sol Gordon, my recently-deceased wise mentor and generous sponsor in the field of human sexuality, also had a profound impact on my understanding and appreciation of Jews. His wife Judith’s family narrowly escaped a concentration camp when they learned at the last minute that their Christian neighbors, who coveted their farmland, had turned them into the Nazis.  Both Sol and Judith made lifetime commitments to issues of social justice. Knowing them and knowing Alan Goldstein enabled me to better know Jews and their unique experiences of life. Thank you, Alan, Sol, and Judith. It takes one to know one.

     When I was being harassed by other employees at The Michigan Catholic, the diocesan newspaper from which I was fired for being gay in 1974, my biggest ally and best friend there was a big, beautiful black woman typesetter named Mildred McIver who pulled me aside one day and in tears told me that she was being pressured to sign a petition that decried me. It was Mildred, in better days at the paper, who told me about going to movies as a child and being forced to sit in the balcony with other black people, and how they used to deliberately drive the white folks on the first floor crazy by bringing friend chicken with them to eat. “They kept turning around and looking up, wishing that had some of that good-smelling chicken too,” she laughed. We lost touch after I was fired and moved away, but I hold her dear in my heart and always will. Mildred wasn’t the first black person I met, but she was the most self-affirmed.

     That was, until I met Pam Wilson, my soul mate, fellow trainer, and mentor on issues of race. Pam taught me (and still does) a great deal about being black in America, its many, many joys and its many, many challenges. It was through Mildred and Pam that I knew better what it means to be black. Thank you, Mildred and Pam.  It takes one to know one.

     My youngest sister, Pam, was born with multiple birth defects and died at the age of fifteen months despite all of our prayers and petitions in her behalf. As a family, we spent most of her short life trying to get her to make eye contact with us, to smile, and ultimately to live. My earliest experience of disability was therefore weakness and need. Then I met Deb Dagit, the director of Diversity at Merck, who is anything but weak and needy. She’s a powerhouse who with her cane, crutches, or wheelchair runs circles personally and professionally around most “able-bodied” people I know.  It is through people like Deb, and many others with disabilities, that I have come to understand how minimally a physical disability can impact a person’s ability to live full, happy, and productive lives. Thank you, Pam and Deb. It takes one to know one.

     Growing up, I always hated the stereotype of gay men wishing that they were women. I was therefore cautious and uncomfortable with the transgender issue until I met Jackie, a 6’2” former infantryman transsexual, and Roberta, a shy heterosexual male cross-dresser, one summer at a weeklong program in human sexuality. While I was polite and gracious to them at first, I was nevertheless confused enough that I kept my emotional distance for the first couple of days. But quite quickly, they each won me over with their happiness, their courage, their determination, and their powerful stories of struggle to become the people that their inner voice called them to be. Thank you, Jackie and Roberta.  You’ve got to be one to know one.

      Don’t you think that it’s true for all of us that meeting someone different from us and connecting with them as human beings is what bridges the gap created by ignorance on the issues with which we flounder in fear? I received an e-mail message this week from an “almost 65-year-old” Irish Catholic nurse friend of mine. She wrote:

     “I figured it out when I was 25-years-old and went to a conference in Montreal for nursing education units.  The presentation was by the Gender Identity Clinic of Hartford and for me - the young RC (Roman Catholic) nurse - scandalous to the max.  The presentation was about transsexual surgery (we are talking almost 40 years ago) and encompassed the story of a male child who saw himself to be female and went through all the family, school, adolescent, adult “challenges” and how he eventually applied to the clinic for surgery.  It took us step by step through every single aspect of this situation from the genetic, physical, psychological, emotional issues with the young man, to the same aspects of the procedure, and all that was required to make this happen.  To make a long story short, the voice of the “patient” was used in many presentations with his/her perspective and the second from final piece was slide by slide detailed pictures of the surgery. Already captured by the pain of the patient, I was caught in the middle of watching and not watching (because it was so destructive and unethical and UNCATHOLIC)…so I peeked.  When it was over there was a panel Q &A session and the leader asked if we would like to meet “Susan” and of course we did.  As it turned out, Susan was in the audience all week, pretending to be a nurse, eating meals with different groups and going out with a few for sight-seeing of Montreal.   I was changed.  It colored the rest of my life.  I have many gay friends, male and female.  Because I spoke up in situations of prejudice, many people came out to me and that would never have happened without that exposure….and I would hate to think of life without those friendships.”

     Valuing diversity in our lives opens us up to a far richer life than we would otherwise have. But to value diversity, we need to be exposed to it. To know it, we need someone to “be” it. Likewise, for them to know us too, we must “be” it. It really does take one to know one.

     Maybe we could all take just a minute to reflect gratefully on the people who have helped us better understand the different experiences of human existence. 

     (To contact Brian directly and to learn more about his work and resources, please go to www.brian-mcnaught.com)

      I waited in line at the grocery store for my favorite checkout person. She’s Middle Eastern, I believe, and always has the nicest smile and the cheeriest disposition of any other checker. Those are among my major criteria in picking friends and people with whom I want to spend time – smiles and cheery dispositions.

     “You’re very popular,” I said as I finally got to unload my cart.

     “Sometimes that’s not so good,” she laughed.

     As she carefully scanned my items and passed them to the man packing my groceries, I eyed his name tag and said “Thank you, Paul. How are you today?”

     “Good, sir, good,” he replied with an accent that suggested to me his country of origin was not the United States.

     I cringe when I’m called “sir” particularly by a black man who is in my age group. In fact, I don’t like to be called “sir” by anyone of any age.

     “It’s ‘Brian’,” I replied.

     “Okay, Brian,” he smiled.

     Just then, an older white woman shopper dropped several coins of change on the floor at a nearby checkout counter.

     “M’ am, m’ am,” Paul said with great concern, “You have dropped your money. I will get it for you.” Wherein, he left me for a moment and scrambled to pick up the pennies, nickels and dimes that had scattered. Too flustered or perhaps embarrassed to stop, the woman pushed her cart quickly away acting as if she couldn’t see or hear Paul in his efforts to help her. But another black male checker saw what was happening and swooped in to gather the change, which he promptly deposited in his pocket.

     “That’s for the church,” Paul pleaded, realizing the woman didn’t want the small change but that his coworker David did. David, though, was unmoved by Paul’s plans for the money. Finder’s keepers.

     “That David,” Paul complained to my checkout person. “He’s good for nothing. He’s lazy.”

     “What did you say?” David asked as he aggressively approached our counter.

     “I said that David came in early this morning,” Paul replied.

     “I got a dime,” David said to no one in particular.

     “I give it to the church,” Paul said under his breath.

     As I approached my car with my groceries, Paul was collecting empty carts in the parking lot.

     “That David is a good for nothing,” he said to me. “He’s lazy. He doesn’t do anything. He saw me get that money. It’s for the church.”

     “Have a good day, Paul,” I said with a big smile as he continued crossing the lot to build his long train of intersecting empty grocery carts.

     Lessons I Learned:

1.)    In these very challenging, and for many people devastating financial times, more and more people will be fighting over spilled change on the street and policy change in the corporation. Out of fear that the pie is not big enough to feed everyone, many people will be far more inclined to be selfish, fearful of difference, and threatened by the unknown. And it is only going to get worse. The angry feelings created between David and Paul over the small change dropped on the grocery store floor will intensify and the older white woman customer will be more inclined to pick up what she has dropped.

2.)    No one should assume that just because people share skin color or economic status that they see each other as allies, much less friends. Valuing diversity requires that we acknowledge that each individual represents a value that is unique to him or to her and not to the group in which they’re categorized by sexual orientation, gender, age, race, ethnicity, disability, or religious beliefs. Not all Middle Eastern checkout women will be friendly, not all black baggers go to church, and not all white gay men prefer not to be called “sir.”

3.)    Kindness to another human being goes a long, long way toward building bridges that cross the differences in economic status, gender, race, nationality, physical ability, age, and religion. Just as I go out of my way to stand in line at the grocery store or post office for the person with whom I can share a moment of human decency, so too do those people look forward to having me in their line, for they know I see them as no better nor less than me and that I’m eager to make them smile or better yet laugh. Now more than ever, we need everyone to try to be kind to one another. We’re all frightened and we all want to believe that we’ll be okay. That means that we smile not just at Paul but at David too. What really binds us to each other and what groups us as human beings is not our physical or philosophical differences but rather our experience and expression of love and of hatred, and of kindness and of selfishness.

   Does the Invisible Man cast a shadow?

     Yes, and that’s how people know him. They can see that he’s there but their only memory of him will be that he was dark and without substance.

     Gay people who hide their true identity cast a shadow too, and that’s how their family, friends, and colleagues know and will remember them – as somewhat dark, and without much substance.

     Conservative, sometimes gruff, Utah Republican State Senator Chris Buttars only knew the unfriendly shadows of gay people until one recent Saturday morning, as he was standing in his driveway, he encountered Eric Ethington and Elaine Ball, founders of a grassroots group called Pride in Your Community, who brought him a loaf of freshly-baked pumpkin bread. He then invited Eric, Elaine, and two other gay activists into his home where the five of them talked for over an hour about the discrimination gay people face in the state.

     “That group has been hostile to me for many years,” the Senator later explained. “They said ‘Hi’ and it was easy to recognize they weren’t there to argue or to condemn me. They were there to talk.”

     I had a similar experience when I lived in Naples, Florida, and accepted an invitation to have lunch with one of the most outspoken, conservative religious voices against gay people in the town, who was often a one-woman campaign of letter writing and testifying before city commissions about the dangers of homosexuality. My friend Mark Benson and I went to lunch with her and the director of her church’s youth group. After over an hour of listening to us talk about our lives, the woman said, “I’ve never met a happy homosexual.” I’ve since moved from Naples, but Mark tells me that she has not written one negative letter to the editor about gay issues since we met with her.

     We all have similar stories to tell. Exposure to the true life of gay men and women, as opposed to only knowing the shadows of homosexual stereotypes, dramatically impacts how heterosexuals feel about equal rights. The conservative fundamentalist Christian businessman of whom I have written and spoken often, said to me on the plane at the end of my life story, “I will never think about this in the same way again. You have put a face on the issue for me.” The Invisible Man has no face. That’s why he’s so feared.

     The day after the extraordinarily moving inauguration of Barack Obama as the President of the United States, who made clear in his powerful address that we are past the time for making excuses for our failures, I was with a friend in the Design Center in Ft. Lauderdale, helping her to look for furniture, and I encountered two male owners of a showroom to whom I said “You guys should read my new book Are You Guys Brothers?” When I got what I took as startled looks and confusion, I added, “It’s about same-sex intimacy.”

     In the awkward moment of silence which seemed to last ten minutes, I quickly considered the possibility that they weren’t gay, but dismissed it immediately.

     “Don’t you guys get asked if you’re brothers?” I queried.

     “No, not really,” one of them replied.

     “Didn’t I just hear you say you share a home? Aren’t those pictures of your dogs on your computer screens?” I asked.

     “No, we don’t share a home. These are my dogs and that’s his dog on his screen,” the same one replied.

     “Trust your instincts,” I repeatedly told myself. A moment later, the one who was seated and had consistently made me question my assumption, finally said, “He’s going to be sure that fate brought you in here today.”

     “It’s true. It’s true,” his business partner piped in. “I don’t believe in coincidences. He and I met many years ago and became partners professionally and personally, but then we pulled back and lived very private lives and never went out to bars. I’ve never been very open about being gay. Not even here in the Design Center. Just last year, though, I started to think about it more. He and I are close friends but we’re not together anymore. But I just met a guy and I need to think about intimacy and relationships. I know that fate brought you in here. I’m buying your book.”  When I got home, there was a long e-mail from him affirming the same message.

     I surprised myself a bit by daring to recommend my book to two guys who hadn’t yet come out to me as a couple, but I’ve come to believe that if I don’t take responsibility for my life and put a face on the issue for others, straight and gay, that even after being out and vocal for 35 years, I’m still the Invisible Man to some.

     In the spirit of these remarkable and historically significant times, those of us who have more experience living out of the shadows need to help those who are still afraid to show their faces to accept personal responsibility for their lives by living in the sun, for their own sake and for the sake of us all, with or without fresh-baked pumpkin bread in their hands, to make their way in the world as people of substance who will leave a lasting impression. Yes we can.