Moving On In Trust

I considered donning one of my eight cow suits to get into character for this week’s thoughts, but decided that wearing a cow suit alone at my dining room table at 6am is weird.  Continuing with a farm animal theme, I’m as happy as a pig in slop that the recent election is over, and I look forward to “mooooving” on.

Before I do, however, I want to share a couple experiences as Pocatellians campaigned for and against and ultimately voted on Proposition One to retain the city’s anti-discrimination ordinance.

Two Sundays ago I visited with an MSNBC reporter on my front porch. I suppose it was more of an interview than a visit, but the camera was off as much as it was on. This reporter has released two video reports showcasing some of the efforts within the Fair Pocatello Campaign and the footage of Myrtle and I weren’t in either of them.  (I HAD to introduce my 31 year old box turtle to him.) I am relieved and not surprised that my interview hasn’t surfaced.

The relief comes in knowing that I don’t interview well. Sure. Give me some questions beforehand and let me go on a bike ride to process them, and I might be able to come up with something polished and articulate. But on the fly, I ramble, stutter, and cope with nerves through self-deprecation and snickering.  It was also the day before a scheduled haircut, so I was looking like a shaggy, makeup-less muppet whose eyebrows could use a good tweeze.  I’m also relieved because I’m carrying more weight than I usually do this time of year as I’ve traded riding for writing, and if I’m going to make some sort of national debut, I’d like to be looking lean and svelte.

My lack of surprise that my interview hasn’t appeared is that when it comes down to it, I love this place. It’s my home. I’m like a 3-legged farm dog that’s happy to work and be alive and enjoy an occasional scratch behind the ear. I found myself telling the reporter about the City Creek Trail, Lava Hot Springs, my two minute commute to work, and my fabulous high school and college years. I was much more interested in discussing the wonders of southeast Idaho than any troubles of growing up and living here.

My personal story doesn’t contain discrimination (that I know of); it contains fear of it based on other first- and second-hand accounts of GLBT people, newspaper editorials, and overheard derisive comments in both personal and professional settings spanning many years.  The reporter asked me if that level of fear had changed at all since I’ve been more vocal and shared personal stories in this forum. That’s a question that could take miles and miles on my bike to answer.

In putting myself out there, I’m putting a lot of trust in people. I’m trusting that I’ll get the same great service from local businesses that I always have; that friends that knew me before I started to write will still be my friends after;  that my quality of life will not diminish as a result of respectfully stating my opinions and sharing my perspective.  (I have had a couple negative experiences that I may share at some point, but the positives outnumber them.)  It can be scary to put such trust in people.

It’s been scarier to realize that at times I lack the same trust I’m asking of others. I told the reporter that I have found myself second-guessing people when I shouldn’t. When I read names of friends and acquaintances on the referendum petitions, I can’t assume what is in their heart and I have to trust that we can continue to live and work side-by-side. When a man of one faith calls for the right to fire me for committing one “sin” over another, I have to trust that not all people of his faith agree that faith warrants a license to discriminate. And, even if they did, if I treated them differently with knowledge of their opinions, I’d be doing exactly what I’m trusting others not to do.  I’m not asking anyone to alter a belief; I’m trusting everyone to treat me with the same fairness I afford them.

I’ve got bikes to ride, cow suits to wear and whimsical blogs to write.  One of my favorite characters Ferris Bueller said, “Life moves pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.”

Although I’m hoping we can move on and move on quickly, I’ll be sure to stop my bike and look around because I don’t want to miss any of the greatness southeast Idaho has to offer this summer.