This past weekend, I had one of the most fulfilling experiences I've had in a long time.
I had the immense privilege of meeting and interviewing members of the cast and crew of The Vagina Monologues, currently in production at UB.
The 42 women that make up the cast represent everything that the college population should be today: educated, accomplished and dedicated to a cause and belief in a better world.
Seeing such an incredible group of women working together in a productive fashion got me thinking about the cumbersome relationship I've had with my own community.
The demographic I hail from, LGBT (homosexual male in particular), is chaotic, to say the least.
Unlike virtually every other cultural group, we don't grow up among our brethren, and most of us spend easily the first quarter of our lives pretending to be something – or someone – else.
By the time we come tearing out the closet door and stepping into the rainbow sunshine, the exposure to so much light can make one blind.
I can't count how many times I've witnessed a perfectly kind, sweet and logical person turn into the complete opposite of himself once he's seen the possibilities the gay lifestyle offers.
Painful memories of the past are forgotten, old friends and occasionally family members are disregarded, and the party scene becomes paramount. There is no empathy, compassion or humility, and common decency would seem to be forgotten. Souls are lost, appearances undergo metamorphosis and treasured memories become relics.
Yeah, it's true that the current status of the gay community is pretty bleak. But to repair the cracks on the outside, one must fix the fissures that exist on the inside.
Yes, it's true that this allegorical tale may not apply to every out and proud gay across the land, but in my experience, for every ambitious, educated and occasionally fun-loving gay I've met, I've head-on collided with five casualties of the community.
Perhaps it's not completely our fault. Maybe it goes back to the nature-nurture debate. Perchance our mommies loved us too much and our fathers never gave us the time of day. The answers may never be known.
It is my humble belief that my fellow homosexuals and I should stop being so incredibly selfish for a change and try to work toward the common good for a hot minute. It's going to be an enormously ambitious undertaking, but the end results can be amazing.
Here is what I do know: my people are in a state of what appears to be terminal disconnect. We are consumed by vanity, pride and deep social pools with no real depth. We have been so willing to recreate ourselves from whom we once were that we have completely forgotten who we have always been.
We are sons, fathers, brothers, cousins and grandchildren. We are friends, lovers, caregivers and caretakers. We are the past and future.
We may have left behind the heterosexual world where we came from, but we have obligations to it, which we cannot afford to disregard. We need to make sure that the stereotypes attached to our culture are not allowed to continue.
What the common gay man would seem to forget is the immense struggle this community has gone through to get to where it is today. From the Stonewall rebellion of 1969 to the plight of Harvey Milk to the crippling AIDS epidemic to the present struggle for marriage equality, the history of this remarkable people is hardly commonplace – or restricted to the dance floor.
One of these days, I'd like to see my own version of The Vagina Monologues, one in which all the gay men of the world have set their pettiness aside and admitted what unites us all: each other.
I'll close with a lyric from legendary R&B singer Angie Stone: 'My people, hold your head up / My people, don't get fed up / My people rise, my people fight / My people do all right.'
E-mail: shane.fallon@ubspectrum.com
