Accepting Difference

minou & margot
Originally uploaded by Mathieu Struck
To date, being in any room of AA has felt safe, like being at home, a place where I have a sense of belonging. Many folks share this experience.  It's often the reason people keep coming back.

Tonight, at a regular meeting that I attend, this sense of safety/ being at home was challenged.

The chairperson and his speaker, both tout themselves as "cowboys"; one, by appearance only while the other is the real deal, complete with horses and a rodeo background. This information was shared at the onset of the meeting, followed by the speaker making an off-color joke about "Brokeback Mountain". A number of guys who are not regulars to this meeting but came to support the speaker laughed aloud. Most of the regulars did not. I felt a "twinge" in my chest, noting it, and then releasing it. I sat up in my chair with the intention to listen with openness and take in the speaker's story.

About half-way through his sharing, the speaker made more inappropriate comments, with "hits" toward women, seniors. You could feel the tension building in the room. I was simultaneously aware of my own discomfort and what was "here" in the room, yet stretched myself to "get something" of value I could take from the speaker's story. He did soften when he spoke of reconnecting with his daughters. He also talked about how he uses the Prayer of St. Francis, which I related to very much. I wanted to be able to find likeable things about this man. I didn't like the stereotyped judgments that were also present in me about him, like "redneck" and "hillbilly" to name a couple. All of this was here.

When it was time to open up the floor for sharing, the room fell silent. People who were regulars did not raise their hands. Then, a number of the guys who were from the speaker's home group began to share. Many returned to the "Brokeback Mountain" reference. One such member went as far as to say that he likes AA because "it makes us REAL MEN". The last person to share was also a member of his home group. He spoke about how he likes the guys in his regular meeting because he doesn't have to worry about any of them "lookin' at me in a funny way" -- this comment was made after he too made a Brokeback Mountain reference. At this point, I was well aware of the waves of transference that I was riding. I reminded myself that I had a choice to not personalize these comments, nor was there a need for me to defend being gay. This was a by-product of my healing session yesterday, for sure.

At the close of the meeting when it was time to hold hands in the circle to say the serenity prayer, I was to hold the hand of the last man who shared. I took his hand firmly in mine; his, however, went sort of limp, the disconnect very apparent. I felt my feet planted firmly on the floor, saying the words of the prayer with solidness. It felt like I was acknowledging for myself that regardless of the commentary and the ignorance and fearfulness that lied underneath all of it, I knew I belonged in this room as equally as these other men. The only requirement for membership is a desire to stop drinking. This is ultimately what bonds us when we are in the rooms of AA. Anything else can be turned over to G-d. Or simply let go.

The words of both the Serenity Prayer and the Prayer of St. Francis teach us about accepting difference. I am reminded when I recite the St. Francis one in particular, that I am asking G-d to help me to be the one who understands, rather than understood. That loves rather than seeking to be loved. To be a channel of peace, of harmony. I am grateful to have had the experience tonight to practice these powerful lines and to reap the benefits.

As some regular members gathered after the meeting was over, several approached me and wanted to "stir up" the pot, so to speak, and engage in another form of bashing about what was said. To have participated in this would've been both hypocritical and found me out of integrity. I listened for a few minutes and politely excused myself. In this moment, I remembered a gem my sponsor offered me just a couple of days ago: "Once anything is over, it is already in the past." What transpired in the meeting was indeed a part of the past. I could enter the now.

And, in the now, I choose accepting differences. This affords me spaciousness and room to breathe. It also allows compassion to be here -- for the men I encountered, for myself, for the regular members, and for those I have not yet met who may be different from me. I will ask G-d to hold us all when I pray before going to sleep tonight.