Of Lambdas, Triangles, And Visibility

I often wear a small gold Lambda earring in my left ear. Most people do not really notice it, or if they do, they do not comment on it. The most recent time anyone asked about it was during General Convention last June. The first incident occurred one late afternoon when I stopped at the Claiming the Blessing booth in the Exhibit Hall to see what they had to offer in terms of literature and, more importantly, to get a bag of the popcorn I had been smelling throughout most of the day at the booth I was staffing just up the way. The young woman volunteering at the booth asked what the significance of of my earring was.

I was a little taken aback. Here I was at the booth of an organization advocating for the blessing of same gender relationships by the Episcopal Church, and the volunteer was asking me about what I thought was a fairly well-known symbol of the lesbian/gay rights movement. So I gave a short impromptu lesson on the history of the early lesbian/gay rights movement and how the Lambda was adopted as a symbol by the Gay Activists Alliance in the early 1970's.

The next day, I had a similar conversation when I stopped by the Thoughtful Christian booth. That incident was less startling to me, because I had no assumptions that the folks staffing the booth should know what the Lambda was.

Earlier this week, eight months later, in the aftermath of the Primates Communique, I found myself thinking that I needed to be more visible as a gay man in the Episcopal Church--the little gold Lambda was not enough. Now, I am not closeted by any means, but it is not a topic of everyday conversation either at the Church Center or at my local parish. However, if the church is going to once again ask its lesbian, gay and bisexual members to bear the burden of the cost of preventing immediate schism in the Anglican Communion, then the church needs to put names and faces to those members--to ME. I dug into the back of my closet (clothes closet, people!) and found the hooded cotton vest that holds my collection of lesbian and gay buttons. I have a number of buttons that contain or are in the shape of a pink triangle. However, I knew exactly which button I wanted--an enamelled black circle with a large pink triangle on it.

I used to wear that button frequently when I was involved in the Connecticut Coalition for Lesbian and Gay Civil Rights. Then, as now, it was a personal way to be visible. I have worn it for four days now, and I plan to continue wearing it while the Episcopal Church struggles with itself and the Anglican Communion. I know people have seen it, but only one young co-worker asked its significance. So I gave him a short impromptu history lesson on the origins of the pink triangle as an identifying marking on the uniforms of homosexual men in the Nazi concentration camps and its subsequent adoption by various lesbian and gay rights organizations and communities. I did not have to tell him why I was wearing it, because he came up with that answer on his own.

As much as I wear it to educate others, it also educates me in just how uncomfortable and vulnerable being intentionally visible can still make me feel.

Peace,
Jeffri