Becoming seen

Part 1

It happened twice in quick succession and it caught me by surprise both times. There was only a desk between us, but a chasm of (literal) ignorance was bridged in that moment, and all it took was a simple pronoun. 

Each encounter took place in a private office, at my workplace. Both conversations included a personal element that found me recounting a story that included my partner, whom, along the way, I referenced — for the first time with these colleagues — as ‘she’. 

In the saying of that 3-letter descriptor, I was aware, in the back of my brain, that I might be sharing information new to the receiver — the literal meaning of ignorance, by the way, is ‘lack of knowledge or information’. And, indeed, from the look on their faces — days apart, offices quite separate one from the other — that detail about me was, radically, new to them. 

What happened in an instant — but plays out in slow motion in my memory — was a look of astonishment, then discomfort at the disclosure (eyes widening, a slight flush to the cheeks), then evidence in their eyes of the brain processing the information, then realization that their reaction was visible on their face due to their silence — and then, the resumption of our conversation.

These instances both happened quickly, but with deep impact. Any cut draws blood from living, breathing beings, and the right tools must be to hand for the bleeding to be staunched, quickly, cleanly, permanently. In these two instances, my conversational partners reached for the right tools within themselves and closed the unexpected cut smoothly. No words needed. 

No: No spoken words needed. But on their faces their response was readable — silent, multi-faceted, coherent. Both these colleagues were absolutely human, nakedly honest, and totally reasonable in their response. And this is enough for me. 

They cannot know what I know: That coming out is a lifelong process that falls to us in both expected and unexpected moments. What matters — what counts — in every one of those moments is how the participants respond to each other: Will they add to each other’s burden of being present to difference in this world? Or will they share the load through acknowledgement and acceptance? Will they be open to hesitation and the need to process, and then welcome honesty in whatever form it takes? 

With luck (and I do think luck plays a part in coming out over the course of an entire lifetime) — with luck, these moments enlarge our circle of allies and friends. Those two days at work? My luck held, and my circle was enlarged by two.