Changing Course

This story has been brewing most of the week.

San Diego Republican Mayor, Jerry Sanders had publicly planned to veto a city counsel resolution supporting same sex marriage. Two years ago, he campaigned that he supported civil unions and domestic partnerships but not gay marriage. When the resolution came to his desk, though, he could not veto it. It seems his 21 year old daughter and many friends and "members of his personal staff" are gay and he could not bring himself to literally or symbolically say to any of them that "their relationships -- their very lives -- were any less meaningful than the marriage that I share with my wife Rana."

When I read most of his words on Wednesday, I thought, "Good for him!" But today, I saw a video clip of his press conference for the first time and I thought, "Holy shit!!!" Oops. I mean... "Wow."

It is powerful to watch a man "lead with his heart." It feels rare to see a father-politician who feels a responsibility to his constituents, his conscience, and his family. It is rarer still to see an elected official publicly address this dichotomy.



Having a strong opinion on matters like gay marriage is natural. Also natural, is the tendency of most of us to post a sign at the threshold of that mental alcove that says, "You either agree with me or you are wrong!"

Empathy for the "enemies" of your social justice (or your religious) movement is controversial and scarce. I know for me and for many who are "with me" (and for many who are adamant in their absolute opposition of gay marriage) the personal cost of expressing understanding for divergent opinions is often simply too high and too detrimental to the normal functioning of the digestive system.

This Jerry Sanders clip made me weep. It was an intense reminder that soul searching and personal change are complicated and emotional processes. Having an opinion or agreeing with one opinion and then "flip-flopping" (as some might pithily categorize) is less like jumping over a piece of masking tape dividing the room and more like taking a long, lonely walk over a high, rickety bridge. At many points during the march you want to turn back to the safety of what you've always known and those you've always believed. At some point, you look forward with trepidation knowing you do not really trust or completely agree the people with whom you are about to align yourself. In many cases, you can already hear your former allies whispering ugly things about you. Some on the bank you are heading toward are unwelcoming: disgusted it took you this long to make the journey.

But you keep walking because it is not about them, it is about you. You can't change others, you can only be honest about what you have learned about yourself. You realize that standing for what you were taught, or what previously made sense, or what you thought you knew before doesn't fit anymore. You realize that changing your mind (whether you admit "I was wrong" or not) will cause some to view you as weak and unreliable; and some will watch your back as you walk away and believe you are betraying them with the admonition: "YOU ARE WRONG."

They can't see, you are not putting blame or judgement on the place you are leaving. You do not want this to force the severing of ties, but you have accepted that this might change some of your relationships forever. You mentally stepped out on this bridge a long time ago and the closer you get to the middle, the only thing you are sure of is the instability of the bridge itself- you can't stand on this thing forever! Maybe you can get to the other side and help design a sturdier bridge where willing participants will be safe to meet in the middle. But maybe just getting to the other side and figuring out where you fit in there and what it all means will consume you for a while...

Okay, okay, enough with the Mother-loving "bridge metaphor"!

But a big hug to the mayor of San Diego. And to all the moms and dads out there that stretch their hearts and everything- time, humor, money, corporate/political currency, food, shelter, expectations, hopes, dreams, identity, privacy, sanity- every resource they can scrap together to raise you and put you out safely into the world... The parents that give with all their heart the things you never knew to ask for... and then at some point you turn and require more of them.

Either directly or implicitly, you ask them for little, tiny extras like, "Celebrate my 'space' and independence" or "Embrace my diversity," or "Question your Mores," or "Condemn your religion" or "Change your world view." And they work with you, still. They consider making the lonely trek across the rickety bridges, or they look into hang glider rentals, or price having a zip-line installed... Some take the opportunity to hold a career-altering press conference.

Others quietly smile at the notion of their future grandchildren who will (hopefully) also have impossibly idealistic expectations of you, and will hold your tender, swollen hearts as high over the ruinous rocks as you have casually held your parents'.