Do LGBT YouTubers Have a Special Responsibility?

Before I begin I want to make a few things clear.

1.     I’m not picking a fight or manufacturing drama.  I’m simply sharing my opinion on this topic.

2.     I am not speaking for Jack Merridew (@OfficialJackM) nor am I trying to put words in his mouth.  I’m simply writing my impressions.  Jack can speak (and clearly has spoken) for himself. 

3.     I am not attacking DaveyWavey (@TheDaveyWavey).  Again, just writing my impressions.   

4.     And I am certainly not speaking ill of Gayety (@gayety), who help to raise so much awareness of the LGBT community. 

A couple of weeks ago I wrote about role models and how some people you absolutely don’t agree with are actually very good role models because of the way they connect with ages and cultures others can’t connect with.  In that post I talked a little about Jack Merridew and a video he had recently shared on gay sex-ed.  Though it wasn’t the kind of video I would be comfortable making, I applauded it for its frankness and honesty and providing necessary information to young LGBT people who may not get the same reliable information elsewhere. 

This morning the online news resource, Gayety, shared an article/video produced by YouTuber DaveyWavey.  It was Davey Wavey’s explanation on how to safely have gay sex.

I’ll be honest.  My initial reaction was, “Jack just did this and did a better job of it.”  But the more I thought about it the more I realized that that really wasn’t the problem I was having with DaveyWavey’s video.  It wasn’t about who did what first.  Here’s where I was struggling. 

I’ve been watching Jack’s videos for a while.  The more I watch them the more I appreciate the ongoing narrative behind them.  Jack speaks candidly.  He is open and honest about things.  Heck, this week he shared a video in which he was completely upfront about losing his virginity as well as his views on sex.  In listening to this narrative you actually get the picture of someone who is almost shy, very humble, but very much wanting to get good information out to people who need it.  Jack seems to recognize what it takes to be an effective communicator for his growing audience.  He’s meeting an important need in the LGBT community.  He’s a role model.  I know for a fact from interacting with folks through social media people look up to Jack.

I’ve followed DaveyWavey for a while.  At first I thought I was missing something.  I know his reputation and how famous he’s become but, to be honest, something just wasn’t clicking for me.  I think I figured it out this morning.  To me, when I watch DaveyWavey, the narrative I see is the narrative of someone pushing an envelope for the sake of pushing the envelope and not so much about improving the LGBT community and, by extension, the world.  I’m not so sure how helpful that is right now.

Let me explain.

Over the past few videos on DaveyWavey’s YouTube channel, not only have we seen the “do it for the chuckles” comedic videos about “bro jobs” and “It’s only gay if our balls touch” and watched him interview people while have battery operated sex toys attached to their penises but we’ve also seen DaveyWavey talk a straight guy into having sex with him and another straight guy into douching.  I worry that pushing the envelope for entertainment purposes when it comes to LGBT themes might actually work against the LGBT community.

Right now we are seeing a frenzied movement of hate bills being passed in conservative leaning states and being introduced in many moderate states.  The momentum behind these bills is that there is a “perversion” about LGBT people and to “give in” to their demands for equal protection and rights will only lead to corruption of young people or even sexual assault in our public restrooms.  We can sit here and provide all the facts we want.  We can point out to these political and religious leaders that in fact there have been more Republican politicians arrested for lewdness in public restrooms than transgender people and that states who have adopted laws providing for equal protection have had none of the incidents that the supporters of these hate bills claim are coming.  None of that matters.   Reality doesn’t matter.  Facts do not matter.  In situations like this what matters is who controls the narrative. 

And as we all know conservative politicians and religious leaders are very good at controlling the narrative.  Why?  Because when you disregard facts and ignore the existence of nuance, it’s simple to cram your message onto a bumper sticker.  Once you’ve stripped reality out of the equation and have a catchy slogan, it’s easy to get that slogan repeated by the masses.  When it’s repeated enough times, it becomes “truth.”

When members of the LGBT community push the envelope solely for entertainment purposes or to dance on the edge of daring so as to increase their audience, I think they do the greater community a disservice.  DaveyWavey’s content is a good example of this.  Apart from the innuendo and explicit videos, there are these two recent additions that you know anti-LGBT people can pull out and say, “Look, sexuality is a choice!  Look how this gay YouTube star has influenced these straight guys into gay sexual activity.”

It’s not a conspiracy theory.  I know enough about people to know this kind of thing happens.

And when we have people like Minnesota nutcase and member of the state legislature Glenn Gruenhagen taking control of the narrative by pretending to understand mental illness and the American Psychiatric Association’s Diagnostic and Statistical Manual, I think we need to be very careful about how we portray ourselves. 

This morning I commented on Twitter about Gayety’s article.  I said that Jack Merridew was able to cover the “how to” of gay sex more effectively and less provocatively.  I don’t think I chose the right word there.  In fact, if you read my post on role models you’ll probably remember me talking about Jack being provocative and me being okay with that.

The word “provocative” picked up a sexual connotation in the seventeenth century.  The word actually comes from a Latin word that means “to call forth.”  Think of it as elicit, draw forth, bring out, or evoke.  The idea was to call forth conversation. 

Jack’s videos always call forth conversation.  Again, some of the content might be a little more risqué than some might think is necessary, but that’s the beauty of what Jack does.  That daring dance Jack does earns him respect for being honest and open.  After all, how many of us would be able to sit there and make a video about how we lost our virginity or even talking about struggles with body image?

It seems the only struggle with body image DaveyWavey has ever dealt with is whether he should wear a shirt or not.

And I’m not saying that all LGBT YouTubers need to do the same thing.  I think a plurality of voices is necessary because not no one can be all things to all people.  The LGBT community is made up of a wide variety of people with a wider variety of experiences and backgrounds.  We need all of these voices to speak to our community. 

I just don’t think we need to do things, say things, produce things that others intent on the destruction of our community can use against us.  That might mean that YouTubers in our community are going to be held to a higher standard.  Should that be surprising?  Our community has always been held to a higher standard.  Most minority groups are.  But I think the celebrities of our community, the ones who have developed a name for themselves from within the community and out into the greater world, have a responsibility to attend to how what they do and say might impact the community. 

I’m not trying to pick on DaveyWavey or impart sainthood on Jack Merridew.  I’ve seen far worse than what DaveyWavey has put out and I’ve seen better than what Jack has put out—all from members of the community.  But those “better” and “worse” evaluative terms?  Those are mine and I completely recognize they are my opinion. 

Once again:  I am grateful for the diversity of voices within the celebrity circles of the LGBT community.  I just think that right now, with the political climate the way it is, we need to be fighting good fights to improve the community and secure our rights and not just be doing things to increase our own individual notoriety and publicity.  

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Success

When everything about you is wired to be a helper and a supporter and advocate you don’t always get to see or experience the fruits of your labor. 

Sometimes your efforts go unnoticed. 

Sometimes the seeds you plant won’t blossom until the people you’ve reached out to have moved out of your life.  They simply carry the seed with them until the right place and right time combine for them to understand what it is you gave them or did for them. 

Sometimes with the pace of life people take hold of what you offer and run with it, never realizing the effort you put into the contribution or that they didn’t express any kind of gratitude. 

We don’t help people because of the accolades.  We don’t expect a round of applause every time we do the right thing.  Often times the fact that we blend so seamlessly into the background of people’s lives is a sign that we’re doing the right thing and, because we don’t demand recognition or payment, we’re doing it for the right reason.

That doesn’t mean people who are wired to be care givers or who simply care don’t find themselves wondering if the things they do matter to people. 

All of my life I have fought to do the right thing.  Sometimes I fail.  Usually I succeed.  At all times I strive to make a difference—to speak for the voiceless and advocate for the powerless.  But because this is my calling, for lack of a better term, it comes with the knowledge that I may never know if I do make a difference because rarely do people like me get the recognition or expressions of gratitude.

And it’s not that we want these things beyond what our human nature drives us to desire.  Everyone wants their fifteen minutes, I suppose.  Human beings like it when our egos can be stroked and our genius can be recognized.  But for those of us who advocate and support and speak, recognition and gratitude aren’t really food for the ego.  Hearing these things is how we know we’re on the right track, that we’re doing the right thing, that our work is validated and someone finds it valuable. 

Now, for someone like me who works behind the curtain as I do with my writing and my blogging and my anonymous advocacy, I regularly find myself wondering if what I’m risking is worth the benefit of what I’m doing.  Do the things I write actually help people?  Are the things I blog about beneficial to anyone?  When I reach out to someone, is what I share beneficial to them?  Or do all of these things that I do from behind the veil of a pseudonym and the mystery of the internet just add to the clutter of the internet and leave a trail for some jerk to undo the non-Troy Comets me?

I know what is behind these thoughts.  It’s insecurity and anxiety.  There was a time I was so confident in my profession, in my work, and my call.  Not so much anymore.  And I know what the difference is:  When you do what I do in real life with people who actual move through your physical space, you have the benefit of seeing the difference you make whether it’s spoken about or not.  When you do what I do now on the internet it’s not so easy to judge your success rate.  I find myself watching the quantifiable markers.  Tweets, interactions, retweets, shares, etc. on social media and page visits and comments on my blog.  I watch marketing trends for my book.  I can even track how many pages of my book are read on any given day by people who use kindle.  What I forget is that these are just…numbers.  They aren’t signs of success.

I imagine it’s like those of you who are youtubers.  You’re driven to tally your views and subscribes and it helps you feel like a success.  But for those of you who vlog about real life stuff you know that making that connection with just one person out of the 20,000 who watched your video and needed to hear what you had to say—that one person is a measure of your real success, not the 19,999 others who simply watched your video. 

We really need to evaluate what we use as metrics of success in a culture that tells us more is better and high traffic means you are successful.  Mass consumption isn’t success. At least in work like I do.  My blog had nearly 100 views today.  That’s not success.  If my blog changed one person’s attitude, informed one person of an important fact, if I entertained one person through my blog, or drew attention to a solitary issue for a single individual—that’s success.

This post isn’t about fishing for praise.  This post is just a gentle reminder—if someone says or does something, offers you something, informs you of something you didn’t know or never realized—thank that person.  It feeds their soul and encourages them to keep going.  It’s simple positive reinforcement. 

And now…some of you know why I am constantly thanking you. 

A Beginners Guide to Troy Comets

Today I’m going to take a break from the relatively more serious posts I’ve been doing lately.  The last month or so I’ve seen a huge spike in blog traffic which has generated some feedback.  This makes this whole blogging adventure very exciting for me because I honestly didn’t think the blog was going to go anywhere.  I mean, I’ve tried blogging before—even using my real name and sharing it with family and friends and colleagues.  But to be honest?  I’ve had more readers and support and reaction from you, dear reader, using my pseudonym, than I did when I used my real name and shared with people who actually know me.  Kind of makes you think, doesn’t it?

So, I thought I would pause today and share a few things you might like to know about me and my blog. 

·        Just to be clear, Troy Comets is a fictitious name.  If you haven’t had a chance to do it yet, you might want to quick go and read my first blog post here.  It gives you some important background on why I chose to write with a pseudonym (fake name).  The cliff notes version is this:  Because of my life situation, coming out has been next to impossible and became more complicated with each passing year.  Obviously that wasn’t my intention; even telling lies for what seem like very good reasons results in chaos that doesn’t just affect your life but the lives of people around you.  Adopting the name “Troy Comets” has allowed me to not only publish the kind of stories I would have wanted to read as a teenager/young adult if the world had been different but it’s given me the chance to start this blog and try to make a difference.

·        Because of my need for anonymity and my appeal to you, the reader, to respect that, I try very hard not to share too many details about my non-Troy Comets life.  I think I’ve let a few things slip between Twitter (@TroyComets) and a few remarks in some blog entries.  I do live in Minnesota and I have traveled a bit.  I have quite a bit of education behind me.  I’m not saying that to brag and I’m not going to go into detail.  I think, dear reader, if you stick around long enough you’ll probably be able to figure out what my areas of study were in graduate school.  I just want to remind you of our agreement:  I’ll be here for you, sharing my knowledge and experience and even being that hole in the virtual wall through which you can scream and yell and cry (which I’ve been for a few of you already and you don’t know what an honor it is to have that experience)—all I ask in return is that you don’t go peaking around the curtain.  I’m not naïve.  I know if someone wanted to know who Troy Comets really is they could find out in no time.  But I believe in the inherent good of people and know that my readers aren’t the kind of people to out someone who has explained why coming out isn’t an option right now.

·        Blogging is an interesting thing for me.  I sometimes find that I blog the way I speak.  The way I speak is considerably different from the way I write.  Here’s the difference.  A couple of weeks ago I wrote this blog post on “Community,” having been inspired by a YouTuber by the name of Travis Bryant (@TravisBryantNYC on Twitter).  This is what a lot of my non-fiction writing looks like.  It’s research and cohesive argument driving to an ultimate point.  When I speak publicly as part of my non-Troy Comets life I intentionally leave loopholes and gaps in my thoughts and arguments.  I’ve noticed this approach in my blogging now, too.  The reason for this is that when I speak and when I blog I’m trying very hard to engage people in conversation.  I’m not here to impress you, dear reader, with my knowledge and my experience and beat you over the head with sound, air tight arguments every time I post a blog entry.  There’s a place for that kind of written communication and, as a rule, it’s not here.  I prefer to think of my blog as a kitchen table at which we can gather.  I’ll bring my stories and my experiences and you bring yours and let’s just…talk.  So I leave gaps in my blog writing.  I don’t always flesh out concepts or drive home arguments as hard as I could because I don’t want to control what you think.  I’ll share a thought or an idea or an experience, talk a little about it, and leave it alone for YOU to turn over and interact with.  One of the critiques I give myself is “You should develop this idea more” or “Talk more about this.”  For example, my post Soundtrack could have had more detail, more meat to it.  But that wasn’t my goal.  I didn’t want to talk about myself, I wanted to use myself as an example to encourage you to think about yourself.  I hope that makes sense.  I also hope that it doesn’t come off as condescending.  I just want to have a conversation and that’s just not going to happen if I’m dominating my blog with fine-tuned rhetorical arguments and research discourses. 

·        My goal with the blog since the beginning was to put out two posts each week: Wednesday and Sundays.  The problem is that inspiration is a fickle partner in this adventure.  Though I don’t think I’ve dropped below two posts in any week, I know that I’ve gone beyond that.  Just know that my goal has been two posts each week.  The other factor that complicates things is I’m currently working on my second book.  I’m really pleased with its premise and progress.  It seems like the story is so desperate to be told that it’s writing itself.  But it is a time consuming process and, unlike These Are The Days, I’ve had to do a lot more research for the new book.  I’m still writing what I know and what I would have liked to read but fortunately I always need to know more.  So know that if I’m late on a post or I miss my quota, I’m probably consumed with the new book.  My goal is to get it out early summer. 

·        If you haven’t done it yet, you really need to follow me on Twitter (@TroyComets).  That way I can follow you, too.  Like I said, the whole point of much of this blog is to have conversations.  I can’t tell you how much I appreciate you taking time to read my thoughts but I also want to hear your thoughts.  I want to hear your story.  Following me on Twitter also gives you a chance to help me out with the blog.  Sometimes I throw ideas out there or request ideas/stories from my Twitter followers.  If everyone who reads my blog were to follow me on Twitter and engage in some way….I just got goosebumps over just thinking about the great conversations we can have and what we could learn from each other.  Since starting the blog at the end of January it’s had just over 800 views from all over the world.  That’s a HUGE kitchen table!  Let’s make use of it!

That’s it!  I want to close, though, by expressing my sincere gratitude for your support.  It means so much to me, dear reader, that of all the choices you could make and all the things you could do and all of the other blogs you could be reading, you are taking the time to read this one.  Thank you.  I hope I make it worth your while.  

Taking Control

(This is part two of a blog series I’m working on.  You can read part one here.)

It was a warm autumn evening in 1986.  School had just started.  I was in 9^th  grade.  In some schools this might mean a big change.  Maybe a new building with different teachers and even a new bunch of friends.  Not in my school.  Not in my small town.  It was the same building, same teachers, same people I had known pretty much all my life.  Nothing ever changed except the one stoplight in our town, the only one in our county.

Summer freedom had ended.  The days of relative calm and the corresponding lowering of my guard had been brought to a close for the next nine months.  The imprisonment of body and soul in an institution and a routine which choked out creativity, originality, and authentic personality had begun.  It was time to conform to the expectation of peers and to pretend I was normal like everyone else.  Just like everyone else pretended to be normal like everyone else. 

This return to routine also meant a return to other age appropriate expectations.  For me this was represented by a return to church activities, particularly confirmation instruction.  I didn’t mind it.  Church, like other things in my life, seemed to be wired backwards.  Fourteen year olds shouldn’t enjoy church any more than fourteen year old boys should have crushes on other fourteen year old boys.  But I did enjoy my church experience growing up due in large part to experiences like the one that brought me to crossing the paved parking lot outside the local movie theatre on that warm autumn evening in 1986. 

It was a Sunday.  I had gone to church, as was expected of confirmation students.  After worship I went to the church’s basement and sat down at the table in the kitchen for…Sunday School. 

Forget everything you know about stereotypical religious education and Sunday School in general.  There were five of us who were “the regulars” who gathered at this kitchen table weekly to learn from one of the most formative people who has ever come into my life.  She was “religious” but not “holier than thou” religious.  She was a nurse who was enormously compassionate and understanding, patient to a fault sometimes.  And the struggles her son, who had transitioned into early adulthood, gave her a realistic and pragmatic view on the topics that teenagers faced in the mid-1980’s.  Her son’s drug addiction inspired her to be open and authentic with the riskier topics of addiction and other themes that were considered too adult to be taught to a group of teenagers who were being prepared to transition into adulthood in the eyes of the church. 

My Sunday School teacher was cool.

I don’t remember how it came up but I know that by the end of the hour in that kitchen that morning the plan had been made.     We would meet back at the church at 6:00 and pile into the teacher’s station wagon.  One of the other student’s mom would join us.  We were heading to the movies.  And not just any movie.  We were heading to see “Stand By Me.”

Let me put things into perspective since I know that by today’s standards “Stand By Me” is pretty tame.  Kids smoking and swearing?  Kids being honest about the troubles in their lives?  Kids going to find a dead body?  It was an “R” rated movie at a time and in a place where teenagers just didn’t go to see “R” rated movies.  But we were going and our Sunday School teacher was taking us. 

There’s a scene about halfway through the movie where two of the four main characters of the film are talking privately.  Gordy is trying to convince Chris to join him in taking some of the “smart kid classes” when they go back to school in the fall.  “You’re smart enough.” awkward Gordy assures his friend.  “They won’t let me.” Chris, the tough guy/leader of the misfit gang, says quietly.  Gordy presses him to explain and Chris continues.  “It’s the way that people think of my family in this town.  It’s the way they think of me.  I’m just one of those low life Chambers kids.”

           

“That’s not true.” Gordy argues flatly.

“Oh, it is.” Chris declares fiercely.  “No one even asked me if I took the milk money that time.  I just got a three day vacation.”

“Did you take it?”

“Yeah, I took it!  You know I took it!  Teddy knew I took it.  Everyone knew it, I think.  But maybe I was sorry and I tried to give it back.”

“You tried to give it back?!”

Chris shrugs.  “Maybe.  Just maybe.  And maybe I took it to Old Lady Simons and told her and all the money was there.  But I still got a three day vacation because it never showed up.  And maybe the next week Old Lady Simons had this brand new skirt on when she came to school.”

“Yeah!  It was brown and had dots on it!”

“Yeah.  So let’s just say I stole the milk money but Old Lady Simons stole it back from me.”  Chris presses.  “Just suppose that I told the story.  Me.  Chris Chambers.  Kid brother to Eyeball Chambers.  You think that anyone would have believed it?  And do you think that bitch would have tried anything like that if one of those douchebags from up on The View would have taken the money?  Hell no!  But with me?  I’m sure she had her eye on that skirt for a long time.  Anyway, she saw her chance and she took it.  I was the stupid one for even trying to give it back.”

And then we, the audience, see just how talented of an actor River Phoenix was. 

Chris’ lip starts trembling and his voice becomes heady and he starts sniffing back tears.  “I just never thought…I never thought that a teacher….Oh, who gives a fuck anyway?  I just wish that I could go someplace where nobody knows me.”  And tough guy Chris cries.

You can watch the scene on YouTube here.

At the time, my fourteen year old self could completely identify with Chris Chambers.  Not that I had ever stolen anything or been accused of stealing anything.  But in Chris’ desire to be someplace else, to escape the stigma attached to his name and the judgment from the people around him—my fourteen year old self heard his own voice in Chris’ desperate wish.  Rumors, gossip, judgment, and everyone thinking they knew absolutely everything about absolutely everybody—that I could identify with in a painful way from the confines of “my closet.”

It’s one of my all time favorite films, “Stand By Me,” and so I find myself watching it regularly.  As the years went by and I grew to both understand the world and these fictional representations of very real people in the world, I began to see this powerful scene differently.   This is more than a kid feeling trapped by the sins of his family and the judgment of his community.  This is a kid who’s beginning to take back control of his story.  It’s from this point onward that we hear more and more from the adult Gordy, who is narrating the story, that Chris, unlike Teddy and Vern, takes the heavy academic classes with Gordy while Teddy and Vern disappear into the crowd, having taken the more “traditional” classes for people of their “class.”  Chris graduates and becomes a lawyer, a “peace maker,” the adult Gordy calls him at one point. 

There is nothing more damaging to a person’s self-esteem and self-concept than to let other people tell their story.  It limits us.  It handicaps us.  It puts us into a box.  When people, even well-intentioned people, decide what our themes and motives are, what our story is, how we could and should interact and react to the world around us—when we allow other people to tell our story, we lose ourselves to their interpretations and expectations.  We even run the risk of believing what others think and believe is the truth about us.  

This works both ways, by the way.  It’s not always about adopting the “negative” interpretations of our identities that others try to apply to us.  “Positive” reputations can be just as damaging.  Think about how many musicians and actors have crashed and burned because they started to believe all the hype surrounding them.  It’s more difficult to step away from attempts at wrestling this kind of control away from ourselves because, frankly, who doesn’t like to hear about how awesome we are?  There’s a huge difference between acknowledging a compliment and adopting another’s view of who we are and how awesome they think we are.  Sometimes being told that you can do no wrong only to discover that you can is more damaging than being told you can do nothing right and then discovering that you actually can do many things right.

I don’t know what it is in people that makes them want to recast the people around them for their purposes.  It might just come down to convenience.  It makes things much easier when we think we have everything figured out and everyone does what we want and responds the way we wish. 

Today I struck YouTube gold.  I’ve been chewing on this post for a while and trying to come up with a really good example of someone taking control of their story, someone who is able to speak to the struggle and occasional pain a person experiences when they try to push back against the confines of the box in which they’ve been placed.  Today, not even an hour after it had been posted, this video caught my attention.  

I love Chris’ video for a number of reasons.  The first is the sincerity with which he speaks, particularly when he talks about his desire to share parts of himself and show the things in which he believes.  As the video unfolds we realize the Chris that begins the video is a Chris from a week ago who just couldn’t find the right words or work up enough courage to take control of his story.  I don’t want to interpret or reinterpret Chris’ words or motivation but, taken at face value, I think he presents a very genuine struggle with enduring questions and allusions to his possible identity.  I think that a lot of his care and hesitancy in telling his story here is that he wants to be honest about who he is and take possession of the narrative of his life but he also desperately doesn’t want to appear judgmental or hurt anyone in the process.  If I’m wrong or missing something, I’m hoping that Chris will let me know.  I have to say, though, that this is one of the best candid and uncontrived conversations I’ve ever heard on the topic. 

It’s amazing to me how YouTube has become a vehicle of empowerment which encourages people more and more to simply tell their story.  I think it’s like anything; when a person starts there’s a certain amount of finding your voice that takes place but eventually authenticity begins to show through.  We, the audience, learn more about you, the artist, and we begin to see your personality, your values, your passions, and even your fears.  You inspire us to be the best us we can be.  Through honest conversations like this one of Chris’, we become emboldened and brave.  We discover our own voice and then we use it to share our story. 

Here’s the thing.  I’ve blogged a little bit before about the struggles of being in the position that I’m in.  I will not deny it:  I am very jealous of LGBTQ youth and young adults today because of how “easy” you have it compared to those of us who came before you.  You tell your stories honestly.  You even own your fear and uncertainty.  Like my fourteen year old self seeing River Phoenix playing a character in a movie who wanted to escape to a place where he could be himself, I look at you and wish the same thing.  I end up going through the, “If onlies” at breakneck speed.  “If only I could have had those opportunities…”  “If only I could have had a family like that….”  “If only the internet had existed when I was that age…”  “If only I could have just had the courage to be honest.”

But the problem is that if any of those “if onlies” were true, my story wouldn’t be my story.  Many of the experiences I’ve had, like the experiences many of us have had, have been far from pleasant or ideal.  Things have not “been fair.”  But these downs—all of these negative experiences and painful struggles—have been MINE.  They help to define me and create my story just as much as all of the good things I so easily own and celebrate.  Without these experiences and the knowledge that has come with them I wouldn’t be in the position I’m in now, a position of hopefully helping others to be true to themselves.

So, yes, I sometimes watch YouTube videos with a wistful eye and wish that my life could have been something else.  We all do that.  It’s human nature.  But we can’t let that desire for a life that simply isn’t ours force us to abandon our own stories.  In the end this becomes just as destructive and damaging as letting someone else define us. 

There is absolutely no one in the world better suited to tell your story than you.  You’ve been there every step of the way.  You’re the only one who can truly speak to your motivations and your decisions.  You’re the only one who can detail your joys and sorrows.  You’re the only one who can competently identify the themes in your life because it is your life. 

And, believe me, people want to hear your story. 

  

Community

Recently I took the opportunity to sit in on a YouNow session with the very talented and inspirational Travis Bryant.  If you don’t recognize his name, you can find him on Twitter @TravisBryantNYC and you can catch his videos on Youtube by searching for “Travis Bryant.”  Travis is a youtuber.  He’s part of a growing group of individuals who document parts of their lives and create entertaining and thought provoking videos for the world at large.  If you want to check Travis out, start with this video.

During the course of the live streaming conversation between Travis and roughly one hundred fans on YouNow, Travis started talking about trying to encourage a positive and supporting community for all of his fans to be at home in.  This resonated with me.  I quickly typed a question into the chat field.  “How much of your desire to create community comes from the fact that you didn’t really have a place to belong when you were younger?”  Travis saw the question (which is a bit of a miracle if you think about it because with one Travis and 100+ fans, you can imagine that the flow of conversation moves pretty fast).  He confirmed what I suspected: It definitely comes from not having a sense of belonging while growing up. 

Human beings are communal creatures.  We crave community.  We look for groups of people that meet our needs and help inform and affirm us as individuals.  It’s not just a social need that is being met when we connect with community; we learn from the community and, through our participation, the community is made stronger. 

Before I go any further I want to pause and define what it is that I mean by “community.”  Often times I think returning to the origin of words helps us understand the word the best; that is certainly the case with a word like “community,” which has somewhat lost some of its power in recent years as it has moved into the ever-broadening lexicon of “buzzwords.”

The entry at dictionary.com for “community” isn’t the best but it includes this discussion of the word’s origin:   

Latin communitatem" was merely a noun of quality ... meaning 'fellowship, community of relations or feelings.” 

I don’t like this discussion for two reasons.  First, as I’ve gotten older I’ve come to understand what my third grade teacher used to yell at us about when we did vocabulary words:  You can’t use the word you’re trying to define in the definition of your word.  Dictionary.com is basically telling us that the word community comes from a Latin word that means community.  Thanks, dictionary.com.

The second reason I don’t like this discussion is that it’s too truncated.  I wonder what those ellipses are replacing. 

The one thing that this explanation has going for it is that it describes what this “fellowship, community” is established around:  relations or feelings.  This is key.  Remember this.

As I said above, “community” has become a buzzword in many circles.  People are looking for a thing called community.  People are establishing something called community in new ways and in unexpected places.  We are beginning to understand that something called community is no longer bound geographically or involves a shared ownership/stake in a tangible thing (“community pool,” “community garden,” etc.).  This revolution in the consideration of community, what it is/how it looks/where it is found, is a direct result of the advancement of technology, specifically social media.  Remember this, too. 

So what is it about this thing called “community” that calls to us?  Why do we crave it?  What do we get out of it?  And, most importantly, what happens if we don’t have it?

In 1986 social Psychologists McMillan and Chavis published a theory in The Journal of Community Psychology .  The theory was called “Sense of Community” and McMillan defined it like this: 

“Sense of community is a feeling that members have of belonging, a feeling that members matter to one another and to the group, and a shared faith that members’ needs will be met through their commitment together.”

Please note that I don’t believe that McMillan’s use of the word “faith” here should be understood in a religious context.

In 2013, David Spinks explores the research McMillan and Chavis did and identifies four factors that contribute to a sense of community.  They are:

1.     Membership (including a process of gate keeping, creating trust and emotional safety, a sense of belonging, personal investment or having a stake in the community, and a rallying symbol like a jersey, gang colors, pink ribbon, etc.)

2.     Influence (influence of members over the community and community over members; members need to know they have a say that matters and the community means something to its members)

3.     Integration and Fulfillment of Needs (members feel rewarded/completed/fulfilled by their participation in the community)

4.     Shared Emotional Connection (this includes a shared/common history and sense of a future trajectory in and for the community; “This factor is believed to be the ‘definitive element for true community.”)

I would also like to suggest as part of the shared/common history of members within the community there is a transmission of values and ideals.  That is to say that the things that are important within the community, the mentality and traits that are valued by the community and the behaviors exhorted by the community, are handed down from generation to generation or sideways from existing members to new members.  Another way to think about this is that it’s through community that we send and receive elements of our culture.

But notice how most of these four elements connect in some way with that idea of a shared relationship or feeling?  There is a fellowship (companionship) centered on emotional elements.

So here’s the question with which we should struggle:  What happens if we lack that sense of community?  What happens if we are denied access to this thing that psychology tells us with greater and greater urgency is so important to not just our development but our ongoing mental well-being?

I know a number of families who have adopted children across ethnic lines.  On the surface it’s a beautiful thing but it does come with some struggles.  Part of the struggle comes when the identity question, complicated by the adoption, surfaces.  One of the families, who adopted two children from Korea, experienced significant struggles with one of the children.  Part of the problem was the community question; the family, though quite active, couldn’t seem to find a community that would meet the child’s needs.

That was an obvious example.  It’s obvious in that there are physical traits that enter into the equation when considering the community question.  It’s difficult to participate in and develop a connection with a community when you never completely feel accepted by the community because of physical traits that define you as different.  In an overwhelmingly White community with minimal multi-ethnic understanding or even tolerance, where do you find community when you are obviously not White?  You’re an outside out of the gate and connection with the community is going to be complicated. 

What if the example isn’t so obvious?  What if it’s not a question of appearance or physical characteristics?  What if it’s a question of an identity that is in development, an identity that is labeled as “deviant” by the communities a child is socialized in by a family that doesn’t know any better?

This is what happens with so many LGBTQ people.  I almost said “kids” but it’s not just kids.  Adults, too, who struggle with identity struggle in part because there is no community for them, no way to gain that sense of belonging, sense of normalcy, sense of “you’re okay, we’re in this together.”  In fact, many LGBTQ people receive the opposite from the communities they are naturally matriculated into—political organizations, churches, skill and development organizations.  This isn’t as bad as it used to be.  For example, the Boy Scouts no longer discriminates against LGBTQ people (at least policy wise) but remember that just because there is an absence of discrimination doesn’t mean there is actual acceptance. 

And that’s really the problem, isn’t it? 

Michael Friedman, PhD, wrote an article entitled “The Psychological Impact of LGBT Discrimination” in 2014.  In this article Dr. Friedman identifies a number of troubling statistics and phenomenon faced by LGBT people including:

·        As many as 50% of LGBT teens experience a negative reaction from parents when they come out.

·        30% of LGBT teens experience abuse

·        LGBT children make up 40% of all homeless youth due in large part to family rejection

·        LGBT adults who report rejection by their families are six times more likely to experience depression, three times more likely to use illegal drugs, and eight times more likely to attempt suicide than their “non-rejected” peers.

·        85% of LGBT children are verbally bullied in schools during the course of a school year.

·        40% of these report physical bullying

·        19% of these report being physically assaulted (Remember, too, there is a thing called reporting bias in which people aren’t always honest and forthcoming when it comes to reporting these things because they fear the potential for repercussion.)

·        30% of those LGBT students who experience bullying cite the bullying as a principle reason for missing school because they feel unsafe.

·        LGBT students who experience bullying are six times more at risk for depression and suicide than their straight peers.

How do you experience community when you are denied the experience of family?  How can you experience the element of trust and safety if the people who should love you are the people who abuse you because of something you can no more change than the color of your eyes?  How can you discover a sense of belonging when you are perpetually in transition?

And, again, it’s not just kids.  Adults experience this as well.  42% of LGBT adults experience workplace discrimination; according to Dr. Friedman, this is four times the rate of straight employees.  Those who have experienced workplace discrimination because of their sexual identity have higher levels of psychological stress and health related problems, less job satisfaction, and greater absenteeism. 

I hope you’re getting the idea.  So many experiences in the lives of LGBTQ people alienate and isolate LGBTQ individuals.  Just because a person might appear active and busy, involved in different organizations and appears to be socially engaged, it doesn’t necessarily mean that the individual’s need for community is being met.

Justin Worland (@justinworland), a writer for TIME Magazine, wrote a piece on March 18, 2015 entitled “Why Loneliness Might Be the Next Big Public Health Issue.”  Mr. Worland doesn’t speak directly to the LGBTQ issue in his piece but he does bring up some important points to consider.  These points are developed out of a study published by Brigham Young University, which, coincidentally, isn’t too likely to consider taking up a study about loneliness in LGBTQ populations.  If they were, I think they might find the opposite of this observation is true in LGBTQ circles:

Many social scientists say technology and housing trends are increasing the risk of loneliness. More Americans are living alone than ever before, and technology like texting and social media has made it easier to avoid forming substantive relationships in the flesh and blood. Yet research shows that relationships can improve health in a variety of ways, by helping us manage stress, improving the functioning of the immune system and giving meaning to people’s lives.

For a long time I’ve been skeptical of technology’s ability to host and house sustainable community.  It’s fleeting, it’s not tangible, there’s no sense of physicalness and the security that it can give or the emotional support that can be shared.  Emoji are cool but I have yet to see a study where an emoji can trigger the same emotional/psychological reaction as a hug can. 

And yet I think the one population among whom technology encourages a sense of connection and community is in LGBTQ circles.  Why?  Because it can be anonymous; honesty in the real world comes with a price whereas honesty online can be safe as long as you protect certain truths.  I mean, think about:  You are reading the blog of an author who won’t use his real identity to publish anything because of the real life consequences his coming out would cause.  Cyberspace may not be as stable as the real world (but, remember, stability is a subjective thing particularly when you remember the statistics Dr. Friedman cites with reference to LGBTQ youth) and emoji aren’t hugs, but in cyberspace stories can be shared, a common history discovered, and acceptance can be found.  At least in some measure.

This brings me back to Travis Bryant and many other youtubers out there.  I only discovered Travis about two months ago.  I haven’t met him in person.  I haven’t talked with him outside of the conversation I cited at the beginning of this post.  But I *do* see something special in him and people like him.  They are able to share their stories and create a community around themselves where others can share their stories by participating in the life of the community.  By taking just an hour of his time on a Sunday afternoon to sit in front of a camera and hang out with 100+ fans, Travis models behavior and acceptance that too many teens (and adults) are literally dying for.  In the two months since I first stumbled across Travis’ videos rarely has there been a week in which I haven’t thanked him for his willingness to share his story and be a role model for the LGBTQ community.  Not only does this model turn writer normalize an identity that on the surface may be gaining greater acceptance but he is willing to open up about his struggles and encourage a positivity that I would bet the majority of those 100+ fans who were in that virtual room on Sunday don’t experience in their day to day lives. 

That is community.

The Story of YOUR Life

In “These Are The Days,” as Tyler struggles to come to grips with his sexuality and the dysfunction of his family, he often looks at Caleb and Caleb’s family and expresses a desire to have the things Caleb has.  To Tyler, Caleb has everything figured out and has a healthy family that supports him unconditionally.  At one point Caleb shares some advice his mother shared with him:

“When I came out to my mom,” Caleb started slowly, conjuring the memory in his mind.  “She said that we all wish we could be something or someone other than we are.  All of these people we want to be like, we don’t know their whole story.     Are they really that smart or good or inspirational?  Do they really have it all together?  And more importantly, how did they get that way?  Something or someone happened in their lives to help them become the person we see, who we end up being jealous of.  My mom said that instead of focusing on other people and their stories we should focus on our own story and make it the best it can be.”

People are constantly looking around themselves and comparing their own lives to what they imagine to be the lives of the people they respect or envy.  Notice I said “imagine.”  Our imaginations are really good at filling in the blanks that exist in our appraisal of other people’s lives.  Let me give you an example.

I’m fascinated with youtuber culture.  I can’t tell you how much I enjoy watching someone who is figuring out their gifts, who has the ambition to figure out the technology, and who not only  discovers a voice inside of themselves but a following in the world that wants to hear that voice.  There are some people on youtube who have literally changed the medium.  People like Zoella (who just crossed the ten million subscribers mark on her youtube account today) set the bar high.  They originate quality entertainment, collaborate to augment their own skills and gifts, and even sometimes articulate very real struggles they face in their lives. 

Those of us who peek through the youtube window into the homes and lives of these internet celebrities sometimes walk away wishing that what we just saw was a part of our own lives.  We all do it.  I’ve done it.  I talked about this a little in my first blog post; a part of me watches these incredibly talented people who seem to have their lives together and/or seem to be having the universe handed to them and I envy that.  I sit and wonder what my life would be like if I had the access to today’s technology fifteen years ago or if I could figure out “a voice” or “an angle” that would help me accumulate a following and all of the opportunities that come with that. 

The problem is, of course, that the five to fifteen minute video that is opened to the world via youtube only shows a small portion of the 23+ hours that remain in that person’s day, not to mention the 167+ hours that are unrecorded from that person’s week, 52 weeks out of the year.  Like I said, some youtubers are good about speaking to the world honestly about some of their struggles.  Going back to Zoella, I’m deeply impressed that she has so openly spoken of her struggles with panic and anxiety.  Some youtubers have powerfully shared their coming out stories.  Others never draw attention to their low points or their struggles or the challenges they face in life. 

And that’s okay.  Maybe that’s not a part of their voice or their vision.  I don’t think it’s the responsibility of every youtuber to offer the world a 100% accurate portrayal of their lives.  I do think it’s important for us to remember, though, that when we look at youtubers or recording artists or actors or that kid in our class or the person at work—all of these people who seem to have it all together, who appear so talented, who are lucky enough to have everything go so smoothly for them—we have to remember we don’t know their entire story.  We only know what we see.  Everything else that causes us to wish their life was our life is simply a product of our imagination. 

In reality the only person’s story we know completely (or as completely as we possibly can) is our own.  Too many times we look at our own stories and discount, discredit, and disregard them.  Our experiences are mundane, our talent is negligible, our opportunities are limited. 

Here’s the problem with that thinking.  When we compare the story we create for that person we envy to the story we muddy up for ourselves, we corrupt our story. 

How many of us would sit by and listen to someone tear another person apart?  “Your life is a mess!  Why can’t you be more like so-and-so?  Why are you too stupid to figure things out?  Why can’t you be funnier?  Why can’t you do your hair different?  Why don’t you have cooler friends?”  If we were walking down the street and came across someone being so insulting and abusive to another person, very, VERY few of us would keep walking.  We would do something to intervene.  But this kind of abusive talk is what we subject ourselves to all of the time when we compare ourselves to other people, when we minimize our own story and glorify the stories of people we don’t even know.  And like all victims of verbal abuse, we eventually begin to believe the things we so harshly tell ourselves. 

There is no greater power that we can be given than to take ownership of our story.  By all means, be honest with yourself about your shortcomings.  I’m never going to record an EP and I’m never going to paint a masterpiece.  But I am much more than my shortcomings and I will not give my shortcomings and my failings center stage in the story of my life.  I will be candid about the difficult things as best as I can, but the story of my life is not the story of a victim.  I will not exaggerate my gifts and talents but I will take pride in my knowledge and my abilities and how I am able to use these things to help others.  I will tell my story by telling my story not by drawing comparisons with the stories of people I wish I could emulate. 

God knows it can be a struggle to wrestle control of your story away from that voice in your head that likes to tell you what you lack and how far short you fall.  I think the power of our narrative is like any other muscle in our body; we have to exercise our commitment to telling our story for it to become as natural as catching yourself from falling on the ice. 

Before I end this entry, I want to address the irony of my advice to you.  “Physician, heal thyself” or some other similar sentiment has probably crossed your mind while reading this post.  How can someone who seems to be trapped by other people’s expectations be qualified to comment about the need to resist being trapped by our understanding of other people?  I’m not going to insult you by saying, “Take it from me.  This is a lesson from the trenches.”  Instead I’m going to remind you of a couple of things I’ve already said.

First, taking control of your story is a struggle.  It’s not something that happens all at once.  It’s also not something that, once done, won’t need to be done again several more times.  We all have ups and downs, good times and bad.  And that little voice inside each of us is always ready to start tearing us down again.  How we struggle to own our story is one of the fundamental themes of our stories. 

Second, we find those things in us that we can do and we embrace them.  I can’t come out at this point in my life, but I can write.  I can share my knowledge and my experience.  Like I said, I won’t exaggerate my gifts and talents but I will take pride in how I use these things to help others.  And that’s really what the writing of Troy Comets is all about—offering people the help and support and experience that is in me that only Troy Comets can express right now.

So, how about you?  How do you own your story?  What struggles have you had to overcome to take control of your story?  What nips at your heels, trying to trip you up and so you fall back into that old habit of talking to yourself in derogatory ways? 

As always, share what you’re comfortable with and if you ever need to talk, I’m always here.