For All The Saints!

Nov. 1 is 'All Saints Day,' the day we remember all those persons who have gone before us and impacted our lives in some way. As I think about the saints in my life, I realize that there are some I know, because I have read about them, or personally interacted with them. There are also many others who have sacrificed to provide the freedom for me to be who I am.

Instantly as I think about folks who have made a difference for me as an LGBT-person—Harvey Milk, Tina Brandon and Matthew Shepherd. These individual raised awareness and rallied individuals giving their lives in the process. But what about the nameless and countless others who also gave their lives? The prisoners in death camps who wore pink triangles as Hitler tested the waters to see if society would tolerate the elimination of an entire group. The LGBT persons who died in hate crimes before we ever identified their torture as a hate crime. The thousands of gay men who died of AIDS as our nation was slow to respond in diagnosing and treating this epidemic. Yes, I have the freedom to blog as an 'out' lesbian because thousands of others gave their lives to raise awareness.

I have also been thinking about my personal saints. My grandmother is one of my saints; she taught me to love and accept people for who they are without judgment. Grandma lived a long life with a variety of experiences, both good and bad. She learned that it’s easier to judge someone before you know their story, but when you know it, you often feel like an ass, (she wouldn’t have phrased it that way), because you were off base. My grandmother passed away before I was at the point in my personal journey of coming out to myself or others, but I have no doubt that she would have loved me unconditionally.

Another one of my saints is my brother Ken. Ken was 19 years older than me. As a young child, Ken used to take me on adventures to parks, Worlds of Fun, movies and more. We would bake together and just have fun. Ken worked as a fork lift driver, but was not the stereotypical, masculine dock worker. He was very in touch with his feminine side and not afraid to show it. I am pretty sure that Ken was gay, but he passed away in 1992 from complications of AIDS. I wish that he had still been around for me to talk to when I was struggling with my own identity. I wish that if he was gay that he would have felt accepted enough to come out, but the culture was much more homophobic back then.

Who are your saints? The people who love and accept you unconditionally? The people who have paved the way so you can be who you are and proud?

Karen Bratton
President
Star City Pride