The Stories That Affect Us

I was at a meeting today and there was a man in his 40s - heterosexual, rational, and in control. He started to tell us a story about personal growth.

When he was a teenager, he and and his buddies used to beat up gay men and men who were effeminate. Where he grew up, it was one of those things you "just did," and he said he was actually afraid of gay people, a true homophobe.

When he went to college, he attended NYU, an excellent school smack dab in the middle of one of the largest gay meccas - the West Village. Arriving for the first time, he walked out of the subway and into Washington Square only to discover thousands of gay men walking around. He told himself he had two options - beat them (literally), or join them (figuratively). And he knew the only logical choice was to try to overcome his fears.

In time, he got to know them, and he came to have a very close group of gay friends. When AIDS hit, he lost many friends to the disease and it affected him deeply.

Then he said - "These people were so loving, so caring, and so accepting," and he stopped for a moment as he started to cry, "and the world hates them."

I was taken off-guard by his story and his emotion, and I stared at the floor to focus myself. I focused on hearing his words and feeling his sentiment. And I started to cry as well.

Not necessarily because the world does hate us, but because of the shame he seemed to have felt for having been loved by his enemy. At the complete injustice he feels for a group of people to which it appears he has nothing to gain from fighting for. And for the sheer beauty of the power that love has to transform people.