In my previous collaborations, I have navigated general topics with an underlying personal touch that speaks to how we can address a specific issue with love and compassion. These are, by no means, a way to simplify, much less minimize, how someone experiences different phases of their lives. On the contrary, one can only value more and more the intrinsic differences with which everyone can tell their own story about love, life, family, circumstances and letdowns; and that is a beautiful freedom most of us can share.
I say “most of us” because we can never be entirely certain that “everyone” has had the same privilege, freedom or experience that many of us have. It keeps bringing me back to one of Martin Luther King’s most memorable quotes: “Injustice anywhere is a threat to justice everywhere. We are caught in an inescapable network of mutuality, tied in a single garment of destiny. Whatever affects one directly, affects all indirectly.”
We hear, we talk, we may experience oppression — sometimes directly and sometimes indirectly — but somehow, during our friendly gatherings or professional spaces the topic of oppression is regarded as too controversial, set aside in the time-out corner along with politics and religion. Let’s face it, these are difficult topics to handle, especially if you have never done so in your own personal space. While I will not claim to fully comprehend all the nuances of every individual’s cultural identities, it is in my nature to make space for discussions about culture, including those concerning power, privilege and marginalization, and to learn as much as I can, to bring awareness and communication about these dynamics.
As my husband and I were enjoying our honeymoon trip throughout Europe this past holiday season, we encountered many instances in which, in my personal experience independent from my husband’s, I felt gawked at; probably my own internalized phobia was coming across as others were looking at us. But this oppressive feeling, that so many LGBTQ+ have learned to live with, and even managed to suppress, was made very apparent as we walked around St. Peter’s Square at The Vatican. After we gazed upon the magnificence and awe inspiring beauty this religious institution has created over two millennia, we felt more in tune with the purpose of creation and human existence. The perfection of mind blowing brushes and picture perfect sculpted proportions, as one walks miles of height defying ceilings, chapels and laser perfect details, makes you understand the boundless character of humans. Until one individual decides that a selfie with your same-sex spouse while holding hands, as we made our way out of the city limits, is not accepted and warns you that you could be fined; yes, for holding hands in the public piazza. Now, remember that we can always #lovehandle this situation too.
As frustrating as it might sound (and feel!), this experience of institutionalized oppression is neither isolated nor moot to many of those who identify as religious and or spiritual around us. Certainly, the story of this aggression from an individual on behalf of The Vatican was blatantly received as discriminatory by many, including one prominent priest who reached out to us after reading the tweet my husband put on social media, which (unsurprisingly) got plenty of traction.
It is not in my nature to fight fire with fire, but to understand what fuels it. When I go back to that moment, I cannot deny to have felt extremely insecure, a bit trembling and followed by judging eyes; sensations that should not be felt by anyone. But we must always be compassionate; always. Whenever I need to kindle my compassion, I remember and put first those who I know are faithfully on the side of justice and equality. When meditating about what had happened, I thought of our friend Nancy Rosado and Father José Rodríguez and Mayra Alvear. The three of them formed my vision of what a true religious person looks like in my heart, and I know that as faithful leaders as they are, they would have never allowed for this to happen. Suddenly, I felt hopeful; I felt the enveloping sense that so many like them were coming together to embrace us and lift us up.
When oppression happens, we should allow ourselves to feel enraged, frustrated and raw, because those feelings stem from the primal core that makes us inevitably human and shake us to do something. Nevertheless, after we go through the feral responses, we must breathe and bring to our attention that face, that person, that inspiration that transports you to a space where you can take control of your body, mind and heart, and speak out. Never be scared to feel insecure and broken, because there is always someone who will remind you that you are not alone in this.
I was privileged enough to have been with my beloved Carlos during that time, and I know that after this story came to light, we were immersed in a massive hug coming from so many places around the world, and they came from so many theistic and nontheistic belief systems and spiritual paths. I leave you with this image in your mind and hope you remember it the next time you hold your loved one’s hand, freely, as it should always be.
