Gay Pride in Fort Worth
a joyful meditation
Today my grandson and I walked into the main lobby of the downtown Fort Worth Public Library and I found yet another reason to love my city.
The library routinely uses its expansive lobby
to display new books and books related to items in the news and to events such as Juneteenth or the anniversary of D-Day. There smack in the middle of the lobby--the first thing every patron sees as he or she enters--is a large display of books clearly labeled "Gay Pride."
All sorts of books about lesbians and gays sit
on two-sided shelves about ten feet wide and at least six feet high. Two books on same-sex marriage are prominently featured, as are books on just about every other issue of concern to lesbians and gays.
Behind the "Gay Pride" display is a timely and
sensitive display of books about Ronald Reagan and behind that is a display on tornados--a subject of much interest to Texans as we endure yet another tornado season. And behind those are the usual displays of new fiction, new nonfiction, new mysteries, new children's books, etc.
My grandson and I stopped to look at the Gay
Pride display. He, being two-years-old, pointed to the bright cover on one of the books on same-sex marriage and asked his favorite question: "What's dat?"
I said, "That's a book about two men or two
women loving each other and wanting to spend their life together."
"Like mommy and daddy?" he asked.
"Yes, like mommy and daddy," I said.
"OK. What's dat?" he said, moving on to the
next book on the shelf. So he and I went around the lowest shelf of the Gay Pride display and talked about all the books. As we did so, I became aware that there was a teen-aged boy standing near us, listening to what I saying to my grandson.
I straightened up and smiled at the young man
He dropped his eyes and quickly walked away. We moved on to the rack of children's books, and as my grandson decided on a book, I watched the flow of people around the various displays. The Gay Pride display drew what was, to me, a surprisingly large number of people who stopped, read some of the titles, and moved on. A few picked up books to check out.
The longer I watched, the more I realized how
jaundiced my view of my city had become, how warped it has grown by my proximity to the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth.
I watched Anglo men, women ,and children,
Hispanic men, women, and children and African American men, women, and children stop to examine the display, and only once did I even see a negative headshake and a grim-faced remark. Everyone else was either clearly pleased, as I had been, or simply interested. Granted, I was watching this for only about a 15-minute window on a Monday afternoon. But it was the afterschool, after-work busy time in the library, so I was watching a pretty big sample.
When we were leaving, I told the librarian who
checked out our books that I really appreciated the Gay Pride display.
She thanked me, and said, "You know, more
people have said that about that display than about any thing we've had up in ages. It's been a pleasant surprise. We weren't sure what to expect."
As we slowly left the library--my grandson
asking, "What's dat?" every two feet--I saw the teenaged boy who had been watching us. I gave him a smile and a wave. After a second, he smiled back.
I've been thinking a lot about him, wondering if
he's trying to come to terms with his own sexuality, or if he's just trying to make sense of a subject that seems to make way too many adults stupid and mean.
God knows I would have loved to see a display
like that when I was teenager. It would have helped me make sense of things the adults around me - especially the religious authorities--kept secret and hidden, buried deeply in closets of "sin" and "respectability."
But I have been helped today, seeing that display and people's reaction to it. It has reminded me once again that the Episcopal Diocese of Fort Worth is not the city of Fort Worth.
Thank God.
"It is always people you meet everywhere. They may look
different or be dressed differently or may have
a different education or position. But they are all the same.
They are all people to be loved. They are all hungry for love."
Mother Teresa