Jason Collins is gay, Black and an NBA Pro. After reading his heartfelt, touching article, it seems as though the only label he wants to be known for is the last one.
Words of wisdom, Mr. Collins. As the world weighs in on his choice to “out himself” publicly, he will need all of his FULL strength to maintain it. Already I have read a variety of commentaries lambasting Collins. He made a big deal out of something that ought to be private, seemed to describe himself as “the other kind of gay man” and doesn’t deserve the title of “courageous” because he waited until his career was safe to do it. As long as the story remains in our immediate pop-culture view finders (which we all know won’t be long; short attention span, we Americans), people from a variety of different perspectives will try to foist their idea of what label Mr. Collins ought to accept and they will do so with zealous entitlement.
When I was a pastor, I preached about the importance of naming. Names have deep meaning in scripture and can be powerful clues to the interior message of a text. In the Old Testament story (Numbers 12:1-16) where Miriam was made a leper for her questioning of Moses, while Aaron, her partner in crime, got away clean, her name became a map to a deeper truth. Miriam means bitter, strong, and rebellion, each of which she employed in her interaction with her brother Moses, but not in the traditional telling of her story. Miriam’s name was a key that helped me unlock the power of who she was, as well as the patriarchal preferentiality of the Bible. The take I had on this ancient story was so unique that I earned a top grade from a notably hard professor, thanks to Miriam’s name.
Names are revealing. A few weeks ago I experienced what it was like to be screeched at via email. A former member of my congregation and non-profit had replied to an email in which I had asked why she chose to no longer support the work I was doing, as it continued the good work that she had enjoyed for years. The first sentence of her reply was “You spelled my name wrong AGAIN!! Even though I SIGNED it correctly in the email!!! You, who always said names were so important, spelled it WRONG!” She was right, I had and she was right too, that it was a name I routinely spelled wrong. And yet, there was more going on in that verbal assault than the importance of leaving out or putting in a silent “e”. This time it wasn’t the misspelled name that was the clue, but rather the written temper tantrum around it.
Names inform our identity. They are the manifestation of the invisible umbilical chord that literally connected us to our parents and still does to our heritage, DNA and shared narrative. Yet it isn’t in the spelled name that the story is told, but rather the context in which the name was given and lived-out. Our names expose where we came from, our family systems, how we handle conflict, love and anger and how we were taught to think, believe and relate with others.
Names are different but similar to labels. Most of us don’t name ourselves any more than we choose the family in which we are born or the belief system or structure of that family. Sometimes we choose labels; usually they are thrust, propelled or thrown over and on us. I was born into Lutheran Christianity. I did not choose that label, even as I became an adult in the church and sought ordination. I would be hard pressed to claim an independent, free-thinking choice of Lutheran Christianity. I was raised in it, taught it from my first day on this earth and breathed it every moment of each day. Choice would mean that I knowingly decided this was my system of belief and faith of preference, on my own through deliberation and study. My narrative doesn’t come close to these criteria. I inherited the belief. And still, in accepting the label, I told a story to anyone who met me, which would then be wrapped up in whatever their name and history informed how they would associate with my label. Phew. Complicated stuff, and when acted out unconsciously, becomes divisive and irresponsible.
We use names and labels as a way to avoid taking responsibility for our grown-up, mature, adult identity. Both offer us loads of excuses as to why we are the way we are, why our lives turned out how they did, why we run with a certain group or pledge allegiance to another. Labels are a lazy way to shun personal responsibility for the consequences that accompany our memberships and loyalty to groups, organizations, faiths and institutions. They are easy routes to cutting off going down the road of introspection
that gives us the power to both love ourselves as well as declare our
weaknesses.
Last week while I was speaking to a group of women about the role religion plays in the on-going inequity of women in society, a woman interrupted and said, “But you’re an atheist, right?” If I agreed I was an atheist, my talk would have been more comfortable for her because “atheist” told a story that meant my knowledge, intellect and understanding were not valid, especially when applied to a religious critique. To get me to agree that my label was “atheist” meant she could have distanced herself from the hard reality that the church she loved and the system it perpetuated, devalued women, even today. It was easier to label me than take responsibility for her identity.
My former congregational member used her anger over a misspelled name to distance herself from owning her choices and claiming her identity. It was easier to spew anger at me over a silent “e” than it was to openly admit a change of opinion and place.
Living full of yourself is responsible living. It is growing up. It is to live consciously, fully awake and aware; thinking and choosing who we intend to be and how we will live, relate and believe. To live full is to claim your right to write your history and future, knowingly choose your labels, determine your systems of ordering and take responsibility for the realities that come from it.
When we agree that our voices alone will label who we are, we can no longer blame or eschew the consequences of those labels and names onto another.
Mr. Collins did right by himself. He chose the time and process for how his news of his sexuality would be known. The “Gay” label is still very much under scrutiny in our world and nation, especially in the machismo arena of sports. It was smart, wise and yes, courageous for Mr. Collins to take control over the information. It is, after all, his life and he is the only one who gets to decide what labels actually fit him. If he wants to primarily celebrate his prowess as NBA Pro that kicks serious fouling ass, that is his FULL prerogative. As a responsible, mature adult living FULLY into himself, he gets to choose and reap the benefits and consequences.
Just like you and me. Live Full!
No comments:
Post a Comment