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.

'Operation Closet Door' (Here's where the fun begins!)

So I decided to come out to my best friend in my site. I had been wanting to do so for a long time now. I felt it necessary to be more open and honest with close friends. I would, of course, love to be more open and honest with my entire community, but I am not sure how that would roll out. For now, I am starting with my friends.

I was happy to find that it was not an issue for him. In fact, he half-suspected already and was very supportive. I hadn't stated it specifically, but I'm sure he could tell for various reasons. I was so relieved! I really can't articulate the feeling of having that conversation go well. It feels amazing.

At a certain point in my service, I was becoming frustrated at the lack of close friends I had at site. By close friends, I mean those who would not treat me poorly once they found out about my orientation. It is hard for me to invest time in a relationship knowing that there is a possibility that the other person would end up hating me. Would you? I have to make friends to integrate, and so I did. But, there was always that secret. I didn't feel like they would be anything more than acquaintances. It is nice to have those folks who I can say 'hi' to everyday on my way down the main street in town. Some of these acquaintances can turn into interesting friendships (gym buddies, people to chat and have coffee with, colleagues, etc). Others don't go much further than the following conversation. Note: The word 'Cune' (pronounced "Ch-oon") is a young male:

Me: 'C'kemi?'(what's up?)
Cune: 'Xhoni! O daku! C'kemi?' (Jon! Oh, dude! What's up?)
Me: Hiq ('nothing')
Cune: Hey, you like Albanian girls? (in English)
Me: Ummm... Sure. I guess.
Cune: They are hotter than American girls? (in English)
Me: They do have very nice hair...
Cune: Maybe you will get married to an Albanian girl one day!
Me: Po.... hahahahaha.... Ah k'shu (Yes, haha, well then...)
*Cough*
(Awkward pause)
Cune: Mire, shihemi me vone! (Good, see you later!)
Me: Shihemi. Pacim! (See you! Bye!)

End scene

I feel like interactions like this make it harder to connect. Talking about women, sex, and drugs is often seen as a way the Albanian guys try to connect with us male American volunteers. I seems like they think we love to talk about girls and drugs all the time, and so they start off like that. I do see potential here for deeper understanding, but honestly I'm not sure how much time that would take. It can be challenging to strike up a meaningful conversation in passing (for both sides). Of course, not all guys are like this. The above conversation merely represents a group of conversations and interactions I've had since coming to Albania. There are countless amazing young men in Albania. One must always acknowledge that, while discussing such things.

That being said, I have seen that when guys are in a group, they tend to speak in this way. They tend to joke a lot more, speak more bluntly, and talk about this kind of subject matter. When alone, it seems that they open up more about themselves and are a bit easier to engage with. Maybe that's a global phenomenon!

Peace Corps was initially a bit scared when I spoke about 'coming out' in my community. They reminded me of the option to evacuate should I require assistance. haha... Although it scared me a bit at first, later I felt comforted by such words. After all, nobody really knows what the reactions might be. This is a post-communist, highly traditional, primarily Islamic country. But once I get past all that, I see hope. I see possibility. I see the vision of Albanian LGBT society living openly and in the light of their communities. I see that future for them, and for me.

I decided that I need to try to come out to my community. I have named this self-imposed assignment  "Operation Closet Door." :-) So far, so good. I haven't encountered any drama, violence, threats, or harassment... yet. It is not easy opening up this topic in a place where such things are never discussed. I feel it my duty as an LGBT activist to have those awkward conversations, and open the door to Albanians who live here. They might not feel comfortable being the first to talk about such things. I also feel it my duty as an American to help. Somebody has to! As Peace Corps has so kindly reminded me - I have the protection of the American Government on my side. If I can use that privilege to help closeted LGBT men and women living here, then that's precisely what I plan to do.