A Different Angle: a random collection of essays and observations, mostly about lesbian/gay/bi issues. © Todd VerBeek, Radio Zero(tm)

So Many Ideas, So Little Time

A few weeks ago, I went to the 1993 Creating Change conference. This is a multi-day skills-building and networking conference put together by the National Gay & Lesbian Task Force every year. This event drew over 1,000 people from all over the country and a few outside.

It was an overwhelming experience. I learned a lot of course, which I'll be trying my best to pass on other folks around here. But even more important to me is what I experienced. So I'm going to try to share a little of that with y'all.

This year's conference (well, "last year's" by the time you read this) was in Durham, North Carolina, the first time it's been in the South. In Western Michigan we bitch and moan about the political and social conservatism... but there I was in Senator Jesse Helms' backyard!

But did the locals complain about how bad they had it? Nope. On the contrary, they dismissed the pity of New Yorkers and Californians and bragged about how far they'd gotten in spite of having "the devil himself" (as one Carolinian described Helms) in the neighborhood. That's an attitude I'd like to duplicate here.

There was one series of feelings that came to me repeatedly during the conference. I'd be in a session listening to someone talk about what they were doing in their community for youth service, political empowerment, media presence, or whatever. I'd get excited, exclaiming to myself what a great idea it was, and how neat it would be to do the same thing in G.R.

Then I'd start trying to figure out some of the details: which organization would be best to do it, who might like to get involved, etc. And I'd keep coming up with the same answers: a handful of people, each of whom is already putting more time and energy into those various organizations than they can really afford... including me.

So it was a cycle of excitement and frustration. There's so much I could be doing. But I can't do it all. I could do so much with Windfire... except that I'm busy with the Political Action Network. I could so some wonderful stuff through the Network... but I'd have to neglect the Mich. Alliance for Lesbian & Gay Youth Services or the Campaign for Human Dignity to do it. I could get involved with the AIDS Resource Center... if I weren't trying to create more time for my social and personal life. Maybe if I could clone myself?

From time to time at the conference, I'd bump into various gay celebrities. Urvashi Vaid, the previous director of NGLTF, who shouted down President Bush, was everywhere. Frank Kameny, who organized demonstrations in Washington in the 60's and founded the Task Force 20 years ago, was there... both embracing and arguing with Vaid. Michael Petrelis got up and ranted about something (I forget what).

These are "giants" in the movement, and I was in awe. But the next person to talk might be some "nobody"... a big bearded guy from Kansas, whose political base back home is a group of gay Republicans... a 19-year-old from New York complaining about older leaders dismissing her as just a kid... and so on.

I realized that some of these people may be more well-known than others, but there's really nothing different that separates the "noted activists" from the "regular folks". Whether you're looking for revolution or evolution, the game of social change is one that anyone can play. (Hell, if a shy stay-at-home long-time closet case like me can do it, the job requirements must be pretty generous.)

On the way to the airport to go home, I shared a shuttle van with another conference attendee. We hadn't run into each other at the conference, but we recognized each other right away. And it turned out he was on my flight to Chicago, before he headed west to Omaha and I headed north to G.R. So Michael and I hung out together, waiting for our flight and during our layovers at O'Hare.

As I got on my plane home, after saying good-bye to this new friend, another thing dawned on me. Most of the people I meet through volunteer work are pretty cool folks. While I liked the people I went to school with, and enjoy working with the people at my job, the people I've met through my involvement in the gay, lesbian, and bi communities are some of my favorites.

Epilogue: This week I got a one of those not-quite-square, colored envelopes in the mail. "Christmas card," I figured. But there was no return address, and my apartment number was missing; apparently they'd gotten my address from the phone book.

It was a handmade card with a kinda sexy semi-abstract painting. Cool. The inside was even better: "Thank you so much for being dedicated to helping those who have not found themselves. Thanks to your dedication, I have found myself." (It was unsigned.)

And people wonder why I do the things I do.

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