The Power of My Lived Experience: Love Always Wins

We were heading back to our hotel from a New Year’s Eve celebration in South Beach. We were in a very festive mood, and the night had been grand. And then we heard it.

Faggots.

The word sliced the night air, interrupting what had been up to that point a fantastic evening.

I glanced to my left for a moment to see who had called out, and my eyes immediately locked on a man’s glare from the passenger seat of a white sedan. The driver gave me a menacing grin. I whispered to Ian, “We need to keep moving—and quickly.”

A wave of fear swept over me. Who are these men? Why are they singling us out? Why are they following us? What are they going to do? We’re minding our own business. Leave us alone.

We picked up our pace, but they didn’t leave us alone. They crept alongside us for about seven blocks, sometimes falling away but also speeding up next to us just when we thought they were gone.

We tried to stay near other tourists so as not to be so conspicuous. Blend in, I thought. But I’m not sure it made a difference.

They eventually crossed an intersection as we did, yelled the vile epithet again, and sped off into the night.

I felt a sense of shock but also relief. They were gone. Good riddance.

I was anxious to get back to the safety of the hotel. It was the feeling of malintent that I remember most. They wanted to bully, intimidate, humiliate, or perhaps do further harm.

But I must say I wasn’t completely surprised. Only a few months before I had encountered a couple at a resort in the Palm Beach area, staring at us with contempt, while I waited for Ian to finish check-out at the front desk.

I smiled back with a friendly expression, thinking maybe I had misread their gaze. I try to do my best to be kind, even when in doubt.

The man continued to look at me with a slight snarl on his face. After a few minutes of him glaring, I politely asked him if something was the matter. He sneered and looked away, his wife shaking her head as if I had had the audacity to address them.

Their looks and body language were clear. We weren’t welcome there—at least not while they were there.

I questioned if perhaps I was creating scenarios in my head that were not really the truth of what had transpired. I had lived and worked all over South Florida. I know the region well. I had never experienced anything quite like this in years previous.

These encounters just felt different. I wondered if people are feeling so bold these days. Then a few days later, we had another experience which would confirm my suspicion that people really were feeling emboldened.

We were leaving the beach on another sunny, blue-sky afternoon, when a very attractive woman passed us on the sidewalk on Lincoln Road and cursed at us.

F-cking pedophile.

We were so shocked it stopped us in our tracks. We turned around, thinking we may have heard her incorrectly. She was about ten feet from us and stood her ground, staring us down. It was like she was taunting us to call back, to fight back, to defend ourselves.

We looked at her incredulously, and then went on our way. Some battles aren’t worth waging.

Unfortunately, South Florida didn’t feel as safe anymore.

But for that matter, neither does this country. The polarization so great I find myself now extra cautious, extra vigilant, playing smaller so as not to be too noticed in public spaces.

I’m sure people used to think these vile thoughts and keep it to themselves. But now they say them aloud.

I mean, who knows what people are truly capable of in this country? Especially if they carry a gun.

I expected that with the anti-LGBTQ legislation being in passed in Florida things might worsen. But I honestly thought it would be in the more rural communities—not in the posh enclaves of Palm Beach or South Beach.

The heat has been turned up on the culture wars for sure. However, nothing has really prepared me for being on the receiving end of hate, especially when doing absolutely nothing to provoke it other than living my life.

I suppose this hostile atmosphere has always been here, under the surface, cycling through and flaring up from time-to-time in American history.

Slavery. Civil war. Reconstruction. Jim Crow. Civil Rights Movement.

There’s an ebb and flow, fits and starts, as the arc of the moral universe bends ever more slightly towards justice.

But the hate seems much more blatant and unapologetic now—or at least my experience is catching up to reality now. Black and brown folks are perhaps more accustomed to it than white folks. LGBTQ folks are a little more familiar with it than are their heterosexual counterparts. Women may be a bit more in tune with it than most men.

To be singled out for just existing is extremely disconcerting. You feel vulnerable. Unsettled. Exposed. On high alert. Hypervigilant. Insignificant. Small.

Some people end up dead for just being.

Part of the American story is that we have a penchant for valuing certain lives over other lives. Not all the time. But enough of the time that it can yield very deadly results.

I recognize that this is how many people want America to be: a safe place for them but not for the rest of us.

But I offer a different view, a prophetic vision of how life can be.

They may see us as weak, but we are strong.

They may see us as wretched, but we are worthy.

They may see us as defective, but we are uniquely and marvelously made.

They may see us as less than, but we are more than enough.

They may see us as bound for hell, but we are bearers of glory—just by virtue of us showing up and being seen, shining our lights in this darkness, overcoming evil with good.

Their fear is that if we truly capture upon the greatness that is our soul, then we could not be stopped. Then we would not be intimidated nor blotted out. For this is what some want, the erasure of our very presence from their society.

But we will not be silent. We will speak out. We will raise up a different standard.. We will live in a different way, a better way, a higher way.

Love instead of hate.

Faith instead of fear.

Forgiveness instead of vengeance.

In the days and weeks that have come since these unfortunate experiences of wintertime, I have discovered the greatest gift that I can give myself is to forgive and let go. This takes time and a lot of psychological work on my part. Connecting to reservoirs of spiritual grace helps as well. For me, it is all part of the path to healing and recovery.

I will go back to South Florida to see friends and family. But I will not forget what happened nor will I negate its impact on the formation of my soul. Righteous indignation fuels me in the holy work of healing and seeing others brought into their own fullness. For I know my calling as prophet, teacher, healer, friend, and all are needed these days.

Life is very much a process of recovery of the soul. We recover by living authentically, engaging in meaningful connections, and finding a sense of belonging in this ever-expanding Universe.

Out of our deserts of despair can arise new highways of hope. Others travel our highway—strengthened, carried, and uplifted through the power of our stories—but only if we tell them.

This is my testimony, that on my watch, injustice will not go unnoticed or unencumbered. I will not stay silent. Justice will prevail. For mercy always triumphs over judgment. And I choose mercy. I choose strength.

I will stand in my truth, in the power of my lived experience. I will speak this truth to power that we all have a future and a hope. Good things are coming our way, plans for our good and not for our harm. No matter what others say or conspire against us, it will not prosper.

We stand firm.

We are on the side of Love.

Love conquers all.

Love never fails.

Love always wins.