The Aftermath

So as many of you have read, I recently came out of the closet in my town here in Albania. I wanted to do just a bit of follow up.

The Good

Firstly, I am safe. Reactions in my town have been primarily positive. I haven't had any graffiti sprayed across my door nor any rocks thrown through my windows. I haven't had altercations in the streets nor any verbal abuse from the locals. In fact I have had more than a few people become great allies through this experience.

Some local gay people have contacted me and thanked me for coming out, as they don't have the ability to do so here in Albania. That really made me happy to hear! That is exactly why I am doing this. I am trying to use my influence here as an American to do something that others are not able to do.

As a result of my last blog post, I was invited to share about Civil Rights at a book fair in Tirana on Sunday, at a pavilion hosted by the US Embassy. I spoke about my coming out experience as well as a famous San Francisco LGBT Activist named Harvey Milk. 

The Bad

I have had a couple negative reactions, mostly from younger adults. There are now some people here who don't talk to me anymore. I have had one person un-friend me on Facebook and one person block me after un-friending me. Note that I had been friends with both of them for more than a year now. I will admit, it does hurt to have relationships thrown away over something that I cannot change. That is always the risk of coming out. That was the reason that I didn't feel connected to my friends here. So-called 'good friendships' could easily turn into hostile relationships should people discover my little secret. Frankly, I would rather be hated for who I am than be loved from who I am not. The benefit of coming out is that you find people who are willing to love and accept you for who you are.

The Uncertain Future

Who knows what will happen tomorrow or the next day. I will still be here for another 8 months.

I knew that going into this would mean treading new waters. The dangers are not clearly identified and protection is not guaranteed. I get varying degrees of support from friends. Some dissuading me from this type of work, while others being my dearest cheerleaders. Even my good friends who are regularly checking in with me to see how I am doing and dealing with things cannot protect me from the occasional worry that occupies my mind late at night. This worry takes the form of doubt to whether I am making the right choices. I really wish that I had someone next to me to help me through this step-by-step. (I suppose we all do...) I don't have a guide nor the experience, and at times I feel a bit of panic. "Was that too much?" "Are people going to judge me?" "Did I say the right thing?" "Are folks who constantly tell me to be careful going to be there and support my decisions if something goes wrong?"

How can an activist do what they need to do without pushing through discomfort? Without trying something different and bold, and even potentially dangerous? Where would our civil rights be if people never wanted to rock the boat? Who would people follow if no one spoke up? No one is perfect, yet when we look back in history we tend to idolize certain people in the civil rights movement. We clear them of imperfections and put them high on a pedestal. We make them more than human. Yet they all are human. They, like us, like me, have faults. I can only do the best with what I have. I try to tell myself that I don't have to be perfect. I try to be brave and do what my heart tells me is right, despite the fear. I suppose that is what really matters.

Coming Out in Albania

Me being gay in Albania. Pretty wild, right?

My name is Jon. I am a 33 year old American Peace Corps Volunteer living in a small town in eastern Albania. Librazhd is much like any other Albanian town: Chickens everywhere, grandmothers riding donkeys, and a regular call to prayer echoing from the local mosque. This has been my home for the last 17 months, and where I decided to come out as gay.

 

I have been out of the closet from the last 17 years, but Albania is much different from my hometown of San Francisco. So I accepted the fact that joining Peace Corps might mean going back in. However, after I moved to Albania, I found that the LGBT movement here is fast-progressing, and I wanted to do my part to support the brave women and men fighting for this cause. With encouragement from my loving parents, family, friends, and fellow Peace Corps volunteers, I felt ready to take this on.

 

I first considered requesting a move to the capital city of Tirana to do this LGBT work, as it would be safer to do it there. An activist friend suggested that I consider simply being myself in Librazhd. Would it be easy? No, probably not. Could anyone guarantee my safety? Nope. Might this crazy idea actually be worth the risk? You bet!

 

Still, I had worries. Despite making many friends, I felt like they would immediately reject me if they knew that I was gay; I wonder if many people would invest years of their life building friendships that could potentially turn violent.  This fear was also reinforced by people around me and from what I have read. Luckily, support came to me just in time from an unlikely source. 

 

Me and my best friend in Librazhd

The first Albanian in Librazhd I told was my best friend, a straight young man well known in the community. He already knew a lot about me and we had spent a lot of time together, and because I felt that if I were to have a reason to return to Librazhd after my Peace Corps service, I'd have to make at least one true friend here. This meant being my true self. 

 

I sat down with him over lunch and told him my truth. He was very supportive, and in fact had suspicions for some time. His cousin had asked him previously if I was gay, and it made him consider this. He told me:

"It doesn't matter to me. You are my brother. I accept you for the way you are. It makes no difference to me. I love you like family." 

It was hard not to tear up over his unexpected reaction. His sister (who lives in the United States, and who knew about me previously) had hinted that he would be accepting, but I was still worried. In small towns like this, if you decide to reveal a secret, once it is out there is no controlling the spread of gossip and rumor. Still, it was a risk that I wanted to take. I am so very glad that I did. 

 

Since telling my friend, word has been getting out. I thought it a good idea to simply let the gossip spread. I told my friend that if someone asks him about me, he is to tell them the truth. We are a team now. Every day I will come out to at least one new person. By the end of my service, most people here would have heard about the gay American man. 

 

My friends showing their support.

I recall one day coming out to two guys. They asked how I liked the girls here (guys often refer to a beautiful girl as a "peach", a vulgar term for a vagina) and my friend interjected and said "He's not interested in them. My friend Xhon here likes the banana, not the peach. Okay?" They simply said "Oh, okay." Bam, That's how it happened! Ever since that moment they have been very accepting and supportive. As least 30 people here now know about me being gay, and I have not been driven out of town with pitchforks yet. 

 

Albanians seem to value the opinions of Americans. I want to use that influence to help further rights for my LGBT brothers and sisters in Albania. My hope is that people will now have at least one person that they know of who is gay (and hopefully their impression of me is a positive one). I feel that simply to know and accept one gay person is enough to open their hearts to all. Maybe one day it will make it easier for a parent or family member to accept their gay child, brother, sister, or cousin.

"I care for what's in your mind, not about your sexual preference. To me, it's okay, and I care for you. You are my friend. That is what matters." – Librazhd resident, early 20s.

Me being me in Albania. :-)