Weekly Message from T. J.
Always Remember
I think I will always remember last night, when Doug Jones defeated his opponent in the special election for the seat in the Senate vacated by Jeff Sessions in the State of Alabama.
I think I will always remember a few days ago, hearing from my close friend, a native of Alabama, who was almost certain that Jones could not win.
I think I will always remember three years ago, sitting across from my close friend, a native of Alabama, in our favorite coffee shop drinking cinnamon coffee, listening to him tell me, one of the first people in his life, that he was gay.
I know I will always remember the description of what his surrounding culture taught him growing up about what it was OK to do and not to do, who it was OK to kiss and not to kiss, where it was safe for him and where it was not.
My friend’s story is one of the blessed many that begins in ways and in places that told them something about them was not right. Yet in spite of this early messaging, he found a way to family and friends who love him and embrace him for who he is and for who he loves.
But my friend’s story is not everyone’s story. One of the most powerful and tragic images from this week’s special election was from this father. I urge you to watch the full video.
Father, who says he's a local peanut farmer in Wicksburg, outside Roy Moore rally talks about losing his gay daughter at age of 23 to suicide. "I was anti-gay myself. I said bad things to my daughter, which I regret." pic.twitter.com/J0oOU0EJI2
— Vaughn Hillyard (@VaughnHillyard) December 11, 2017
When a friend sent it to me, I wanted to respond that this father is mispronouncing “pervert.” It’s pronounced “R-O-Y M-O-O-R-E.” But this video and this confession from this father deserve more than name-calling.
What touched me the most about this video wasn’t the father’s confession for the words he spoke to his daughter during her life. What touched me was that this father can’t even explain exactly why he came to an election event or what he was really hoping to accomplish—it was as if he was simply compelled to be there to honor his daughter.
But what is clear is his recognition that the life of his daughter, and the lives of so many others who are told so often, in so many parts of this world that they are not worthy, that they are not welcome, those lives are worthy to him, are precious to him. And what is painfully true for this father is that in a world where news is being called fake, where talk seems to be cheaper and cheaper by the day, we are reminded that words matter. The words we use and share with those we love can live longer even than those we love.
When the memory of today’s victory fades, I think I will always remember this father, whose words about his daughter and so many more of this world’s children changed my own life a little.
I think I will always remember even more fondly the beautiful life of my friend, an Alabama native, who lives a life filled with love and joy today.
And I know I will always remember the café table and the cinnamon coffee when a lifetime of hiding, of hating, of hurting lost in a landslide to love.
And may it ever be so!
Blessings,
T. J.
minister@unitariansofhi.org
A beautiful message. I also have a friend who grew up in the south, and she struggles to this day to reconcile her faith and her sexuality. The attitudes that she was (and still is) surrounded by are so entrenched and pervasive, but are fortunately slowly changing. “May it ever be so” indeed!
I’m in tears reading this. Thank you, TJ for your awesome words.
Wow…The father’s vulnerability and emotion showing such love for his daughter are so powerful, and so are your words, T.J. Thank you! The ditty we learned as kids, “Sticks and stones can break your bones, but names can never hurt you…” Simply not true! As you said, “words matter.”
Knowing individuals changes our preconceptions. Sometimes I know when I hear a southern accent, I need to listen more attentively with love.
Mahalo TJ. Your words are so true and so important. I look forward to hearing and reading what you have to say and again you do not fail to say “it” just right.