Know Thyself

We've all heard of the couple that met in high school, never dated anybody else, got hitched, and lived happily together forever after. I think they live in Nebraska somewhere. For most of the rest of us, it took a while longer to find a life mate. And I think there's a very good reason for that.

We typically think of dating and courtship as a process whereby we get to know other people better, to determine if the person we're dating is somebody that might be a good fit for us. We assume that we're evaluating them and they're evaluating us, and if the evaluations turn out mutually positive, then we decide to make the relationship more permanent. But what is going on in reality is a good deal more complex than that.

True, we are evaluating the other person. But at the same time, we are learning to know who we are as a person in relation to them. Because the truth is that until we begin to contemplate the possibility of loving and living with another person, we know very little about how we would function in such a situation. Our likes, dislikes and needs in the context of a relationship are often as much a mystery to ourselves as they are to a potential mate. If you don't believe me, consider how many gay men and women get married to members of the opposite sex, and eventually figure out that they're gay. If this is true of something as seemingly basic as sexual orientation, it is true of a good many other (perhaps equally important) things.

When individuals tell me the story of how they found their mate, I very frequently hear something like this: "I searched and searched. I was desperate to find Mr. Right, but no matter how hard I tried I could not find him. Every relationship I tried did not work out. So eventually I gave up, and decided I just needed to learn to be happy on my own. And just when it seemed I had found that I really was OK and good and whole all by myself, then I found him." That's how it worked for me. And there's a very good reason for that too.

When we are desperate to get married, we don't listen to what's going on inside of us, and we don't allow ourselves to be ourselves. All we are focussed on is trying to put on a front for the other person that we think they will find pleasing. But when we are dating someone or courting someone in that way, the other person will often smell something wrong. It may come through as insecurity or clinginess or something else in the relationship that just doesn't feel right. They'll sense a problem, and eventually they'll move on -- not necessarily because you wouldn't be a good match, but because there's no strong sense of who you really are to know whether you would be a good match.

The final secret of relationships is the one that is least secret because it is the one story about relationships that is not merely very common but universal. There is no "perfect" relationship, not even those married high school sweethearts who live in Nebraska. There is no relationship, no matter how well matched the couple, that doesn't require work and lots of it.

Learning to know yourself in the context of a relationship is not just about learning what you like, dislike and need in a relationship (things you learn early in a relationship). But it is learning what you only learn when you have been in a relationship for a much longer time: what kind of a mate you are. How you communicate. How you listen. How you make decisions. How you act and react. The first kind of knowing is what helps a couple come together in the first place. But the last kind of knowing is what helps a couple stay together, even couples who face tremendous difficulties within their relationships. The last kind of knowing is perhaps also the single greatest gift of a relationship; because the other person helps reflect those aspects of ourselves back to us, if we will let them.

The Difference Between Us

A gay man or lesbian who lives a life of celibacy or a gay man or lesbian who marries a person of the opposite sex would presumably be safe under the legislation currently being considered in Uganda, and supported and promoted by certain conservative Christian groups based in the U.S. But I and my husband would not be safe. We would be found guilty of a capital crime and we would be executed. That is how some folks here in the U.S. see the difference between us: me worthy of death, married and celibate gay men and lesbians OK so long as they follow the rules.

I could feel lucky that my husband and I are not living in Uganda right now. I could feel lucky that I'm not the one who has to figure out right now if I can muster the resources to flee the country for my life. I could feel lucky that I'm not the one to have to decide whether I am willing to go into permanent exile and never see my family or other loved ones again, or whether I am willing to risk it and stay, and go deep into the closet, and live a life lonely and afraid of touch and intimacy. I could say that my personal fortunes are not somehow inextricably woven with the fortunes of gay men and lesbians in Uganda right now. I could say that there is a difference between us because they live someplace where it may soon be very dangerous to be gay, and I live someplace where I am supposedly safe.

But that would be false.

This morning I attended a prayer breakfast here in Minneapolis for the purpose of raising awareness about what is happening in Uganda right now. If you want to help, one place you can go is to the American Jewish World Service, which is organizing to provide humanitarian assistance and advocacy for the GLBT community in Uganda.

This article provides some more information about the impact that mainstream evangelical groups in the U.S. had on the Uganda legislation.