As a student of adversity, I've been struck over the years by how some people with major challenges seem to draw strength from them. And I've heard the popular wisdom that that has to do with finding meaning. And for a long time, I thought the meaning was out there, some great truth waiting to be found.
Kako proučavam raznolikost, primijetio sam tijekom godina kako neki ljudi s velikim izazovima naizgled crpe snagu iz njih, i čuo sam popularnu mudrost koja kaže da to ima veze s pronalaženjem značenja. I dugo vremena, mislio sam da je značenje negdje vani, neka velika istina koja čeka da je se otkrije.
But over time, I've come to feel that the truth is irrelevant. We call it "finding meaning," but we might better call it "forging meaning."
No nakon nekog vremena, počeo sam osjećati kako je istina nebitna. Zovemo to pronalaženje značenja, ali bolje bi bilo da to nazovemo lažiranje značenja.
My last book was about how families manage to deal with various kinds of challenging or unusual offspring. And one of the mothers I interviewed, who had two children with multiple severe disabilities, said to me, "People always give us these little sayings like, 'God doesn't give you any more than you can handle.' But children like ours are not preordained as a gift. They're a gift because that's what we have chosen."
Moja posljednja knjiga govori o obiteljima koje se nose s različitim vrstama izazovnih ili neobičnih potomaka, i jedna od majki koje sam intervjuirao, koja ima dvoje djece s višestrukim invaliditetom, rekla mi je, "Ljudi nam uvijek govore ove male izreke, kao, 'Bog vam ne daje više od onoga s čim se možete nositi', ali djeca kao naša nisu predodređena kao dar. Dar su jer smo tako odabrali."
We make those choices all our lives. When I was in second grade, Bobby Finkel had a birthday party and invited everyone in our class but me. My mother assumed there had been some sort of error, and she called Mrs. Finkel, who said that Bobby didn't like me and didn't want me at his party. And that day, my mom took me to the zoo and out for a hot fudge sundae. When I was in seventh grade, one of the kids on my school bus nicknamed me "Percy," as a shorthand for my demeanor. And sometimes, he and his cohort would chant that provocation the entire school bus ride, 45 minutes up, 45 minutes back: "Percy! Percy! Percy! Percy!" When I was in eighth grade, our science teacher told us that all male homosexuals develop fecal incontinence because of the trauma to their anal sphincter. And I graduated high school without ever going to the cafeteria, where I would have sat with the girls and been laughed at for doing so, or sat with the boys, and been laughed at for being a boy who should be sitting with the girls.
Takve izbore donosimo čitav svoj život. Kada sam bio u drugom razredu, Bobby Finkel imao je rođendansku zabavu i pozvao sve u razredu osim mene. Moja majka pretpostavila je da se dogodila neka greška, i nazvala je gospođu Finkel, koja je rekla da me Bobby ne voli i nije htio da dođem na zabavu. I tog dana, mama me odvela u zoološki vrt i van na sladoled. Kada sam bio u sedmom razredu, jedan od dječaka u školskom busu nazvao me "Percy" kao skraćenicu za moje ponašanje, i ponekad, on i njegova kohorta uzvikivali bi tu provokaciju cijelu vožnju busom, 45 minuta tamo, 45 minuta natrag, "Percy! Percy! Percy! Percy!" Kada sam bio u osmom razredu naš profesor rekao je da svi muški homoseksualci razviju fekalnu inkontinenciju zbog traume analnog sfinktera. I maturirao sam iz srednje škole bez da sam ijednom otišao u kafeteriju, gdje bih sjedio s djevojkama zbog čega bi me smijavali, ili sjedio s momcima gdje bi me ismijavali što sam momak koji bi trebao sjediti s djevojkama.
I survived that childhood through a mix of avoidance and endurance. What I didn't know then and do know now, is that avoidance and endurance can be the entryway to forging meaning. After you've forged meaning, you need to incorporate that meaning into a new identity. You need to take the traumas and make them part of who you've come to be, and you need to fold the worst events of your life into a narrative of triumph, evincing a better self in response to things that hurt.
Preživio sam to djetinjstvo pomoću kombinacije izbjegavanja i izdržljivosti. Ono što nisam tada znao, a sada znam, je da su izbjegavanje i izdržljivost put prema lažiranju značenja. Kada ste lažirali značenje, morate to značenje uključiti u novi identitet. Morate uzeti traume i učiniti ih dijelom osobe koja postanete, i morate složiti najgore događaje u svom životu u priču trijumfa, pokazujući boljeg sebe kao odgovor na stvari koje bole.
One of the other mothers I interviewed when I was working on my book had been raped as an adolescent, and had a child following that rape, which had thrown away her career plans and damaged all of her emotional relationships. But when I met her, she was 50, and I said to her, "Do you often think about the man who raped you?" And she said, "I used to think about him with anger, but now only with pity." And I thought she meant pity because he was so unevolved as to have done this terrible thing. And I said, "Pity?" And she said, "Yes, because he has a beautiful daughter and two beautiful grandchildren, and he doesn't know that, and I do. So as it turns out, I'm the lucky one."
Jedna druga majka koju sam intervjuirao kada sam radio na svojoj knjizi silovana je kao adolescentica, i rodila je nakon tog silovanja, što je uništilo njene planove o karijeri i naštetilo svim njenim emocionalnim vezama. No, kada sam je upoznao, imala je 50, i upitao je, "Razmišljate li često o čovjeku koji vas je silovao?" Odgovorila je, "Nekad sam razmišljala o njemu s ljutnjom, ali sada ga samo žalim." Mislio sam da ga žali jer je bio tako nerazvijen i učinio tu užasnu stvar. I rekao sam, "Žalite ga?" I ona je rekla, "Da, jer ima prekrasnu kćer i dvoje prekrasne unučadi ali ne zna za to, a ja znam. Tako da sam ja ta koja je sretna."
Some of our struggles are things we're born to: our gender, our sexuality, our race, our disability. And some are things that happen to us: being a political prisoner, being a rape victim, being a Katrina survivor. Identity involves entering a community to draw strength from that community, and to give strength there, too. It involves substituting "and" for "but" -- not "I am here but I have cancer," but rather, "I have cancer and I am here."
Neke naše borbe su nam urođene: naš spol, naša seksualnost, naša rasa, naš invaliditet. A neke su stvari koje nam se dogode: biti politički zatvorenik, žrtva silovanja, biti preživjeli nakon uragana Katrine. Identitet traži ulazak u zajednicu kako bismo crpili snagu iz te zajednice, i kako bi i njoj dali snagu. Uključuje zamjenu "i" za "ali" -- ne "Ovdje sam, ali imam rak." već, "Imam rak i ovdje sam."
When we're ashamed, we can't tell our stories, and stories are the foundation of identity. Forge meaning, build identity. Forge meaning and build identity. That became my mantra. Forging meaning is about changing yourself. Building identity is about changing the world. All of us with stigmatized identities face this question daily: How much to accommodate society by constraining ourselves, and how much to break the limits of what constitutes a valid life? Forging meaning and building identity does not make what was wrong right. It only makes what was wrong precious.
Kada nas je sram, ne možemo pričati svoje priče, a priče su osnova identiteta. Lažiraj značenje, gradi identitet, lažiraj značenje i gradi identitet. To mi je postala mantra. Lažiranje značenja važno je za mijenjanje samog sebe. Građenje identiteta važno je za mijenjanje svijeta. Svi mi sa stigmatiziranim idenitetom suočavamo se s ovim pitanjem svaki dan: koliko udovoljiti društvu ograničavajući same sebe, i koliko probiti granice onoga što se smatra ispravnim životom? Lažiranje značenja i izgradnja identiteta ne čini ono što je bilo pogrešno ispravnim. Samo čini ono što je pogrešno dragocjenim.
In January of this year, I went to Myanmar to interview political prisoners, and I was surprised to find them less bitter than I'd anticipated. Most of them had knowingly committed the offenses that landed them in prison, and they had walked in with their heads held high, and they walked out with their heads still held high, many years later. Dr. Ma Thida, a leading human rights activist who had nearly died in prison and had spent many years in solitary confinement, told me she was grateful to her jailers for the time she had had to think, for the wisdom she had gained, for the chance to hone her meditation skills. She had sought meaning and made her travail into a crucial identity. But if the people I met were less bitter than I'd anticipated about being in prison, they were also less thrilled than I'd expected about the reform process going on in their country. Ma Thida said, "We Burmese are noted for our tremendous grace under pressure, but we also have grievance under glamour." She said, "And the fact that there have been these shifts and changes doesn't erase the continuing problems in our society that we learned to see so well while we were in prison."
U siječnju ove godine, otišao sam u Mijanmar kako bih intervjuirao političke zatvorenike, i iznenadio sam se kada sam shvatio da su manje ogorčeni nego što sam očekivao. Većina ih je svjesno počinila prekršaje koji su ih doveli u zatvor, i ušli su visoko uzdignutih glava, i izašli su visoko uzdignutih glava godinama nakon toga. Dr. Ma Thida, vodeća aktivistica za ljudska prava koja je skoro umrla u zatvoru i provela mnoge godine u samici, rekla mi je da je zahvalna onima koji su je pritvorili zbog vremena koje je imala da razmišlja, zbog mudrosti koju je stekla, za šansu da usavrši svoje meditacijske vještine. Tražila je značenje i svoje nedaće pretvorila u krucijalni identitet. Ali ljudi koje sam upoznao bili su neočekivano manje ogorčeni zbog boravka u zatvoru, također su bili i manje oduševljeni nego što sam očekivao oko procesa reforme koji se događa u njihovoj zemlji. Ma Thida je rekla, "Mi Burmanci poznati smo po našoj nevjerojatnoj gracioznosti pod pritiskom, ali i našim "glamuroznim" trpljenjem," rekla je, "i činjenica da postoje ovi pomaci i promjene ne briše stalne probleme našeg društva koje smo naučili vidjeti tako dobro dok smo bili u zatvoru."
I understood her to be saying that concessions confer only a little humanity where full humanity is due; that crumbs are not the same as a place at the table. Which is to say, you can forge meaning and build identity and still be mad as hell.
I shvatio sam da je govorila kako ustupci donose samo malo humanosti, gdje je potpuna humanost potrebna, da mrvice nisu iste kao mjesto za stolom, što govori da možete lažirati značenje i graditi identitet i još uvijek biti strašno ljuti.
I've never been raped, and I've never been in anything remotely approaching a Burmese prison. But as a gay American, I've experienced prejudice and even hatred, and I've forged meaning and I've built identity, which is a move I learned from people who had experienced far worse privation than I've ever known. In my own adolescence, I went to extreme lengths to try to be straight. I enrolled myself in something called "sexual surrogacy therapy," in which people I was encouraged to call doctors prescribed what I was encouraged to call exercises with women I was encouraged to call surrogates, who were not exactly prostitutes but who were also not exactly anything else.
Nikad me nisu silovali, i nikad nisam bio u ničem približno kao što je burmanski zatvor, ali kao gej Amerikanac, iskusio sam predrasude i čak i mržnju, i lažirao sam značenje i izgradio identitet, što je potez koji sam naučio od ljudi koji su iskusili mnogo veću oskudicu nego što sam ja ikad poznavao. U svojoj adolescenciji, išao sam u ekstreme kako bih bio "straight". Prijavio sam se na nešto što se zove terapija seksualnim surogatom, u kojem su mi ljudi koje sam trebao zvati liječnicima prepisivali nešto što sam trebao nazivati vježbe sa ženama koje sam trebao nazvati surogatima, koje nisu bile baš prostitutke ali nisu baš bile ni išta drugo.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
My particular favorite was a blonde woman from the Deep South who eventually admitted to me that she was really a necrophiliac, and had taken this job after she got in trouble down at the morgue.
Meni najdraža bila je plavuša s Juga koja mi je priznala da je zapravo nekrofil i da je prihvatila ovaj posao nakon što je upala u nevolje u mrtvačnici.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
These experiences eventually allowed me to have some happy physical relationships with women, for which I'm grateful. But I was at war with myself, and I dug terrible wounds into my own psyche.
Ova iskustva su mi dozvolila da imam neke sretne fizičke odnose sa ženama, za što sam zahvalan, ali sam ratovao sam sa sobom, i iskopao sam strašne rane u vlastitoj psihi.
We don't seek the painful experiences that hew our identities, but we seek our identities in the wake of painful experiences. We cannot bear a pointless torment, but we can endure great pain if we believe that it's purposeful. Ease makes less of an impression on us than struggle. We could have been ourselves without our delights, but not without the misfortunes that drive our search for meaning. "Therefore, I take pleasure in infirmities," St. Paul wrote in Second Corinthians, "for when I am weak, then I am strong."
Ne tražimo bolna iskustva koja sijeku naš identitet, ali tražimo identitet kao posljedicu bolnih iskustava. Ne možemo podnijeti besmisleno mučenje, ali možemo izdržati veliku bol ako vjerujemo da ima smisla. Lakoća ostavlja manji utisak na nas nego borba. Mogli smo biti ono što jesmo bez užitaka, ali ne bez poteškoća koje potiču našu potragu za značenjem. "Zato, ja uživam u slabostima," napisao je Sv. Pavao u Drugoj poslanici Korinćanima, "jer kad sam slab, tada sam jak."
In 1988, I went to Moscow to interview artists of the Soviet underground. I expected their work to be dissident and political. But the radicalism in their work actually lay in reinserting humanity into a society that was annihilating humanity itself, as, in some senses, Russian society is now doing again. One of the artists I met said to me, "We were in training to be not artists but angels."
Godine 1988. išao sam u Moskvu intervjuirati umjetnike Sovjetskog podzemlja, I očekivao sam da će njihov rad biti disidentski i politički. Ali radikalizam njihovih radova ležao je u ponovnom uvođenju čovječnosti u društvo koje je samo uništavalo čovječnost, kao što, u nekom smislu, rusko društvo to ponovno čini. Jedan od umjetnika koje sam upoznao rekao mi je, "Ne treniramo da bismo bili umjetnici već anđeli".
In 1991, I went back to see the artists I'd been writing about, and I was with them during the putsch that ended the Soviet Union. And they were among the chief organizers of the resistance to that putsch. And on the third day of the putsch, one of them suggested we walk up to Smolenskaya. And we went there, and we arranged ourselves in front of one of the barricades, and a little while later, a column of tanks rolled up. And the soldier on the front tank said, "We have unconditional orders to destroy this barricade. If you get out of the way, we don't need to hurt you. But if you won't move, we'll have no choice but to run you down." The artist I was with said, "Give us just a minute. Give us just a minute to tell you why we're here." And the soldier folded his arms, and the artist launched into a Jeffersonian panegyric to democracy such as those of us who live in a Jeffersonian democracy would be hard-pressed to present. And they went on and on, and the soldier watched. And then he sat there for a full minute after they were finished and looked at us, so bedraggled in the rain, and said, "What you have said is true, and we must bow to the will of the people. If you'll clear enough space for us to turn around, we'll go back the way we came." And that's what they did. Sometimes, forging meaning can give you the vocabulary you need to fight for your ultimate freedom.
Godine 1991. vratio sam se da posjetim umjetnike o kojima sam pisao, i bio sam s njima za vrijeme puča koji je srušio Sovjetski Savez, i bili su jedni od glavnih organizatora otpora tome puču. I trećeg dana puča, jedan od njih predložio je da prošetamo do Smolenskaje. I otišli smo tamo, i smjestili se ispred jedne od barikada, i malo kasnije, kolona tenkova se dovezla, i vojnik na prvom tenku rekao je, "Imamo bezuvjetne naredbe da uništimo ovu barikadu. Ako se sklonite, nema potrebe da vas ozlijedimo, ali ako se nećete maknuti, nemamo izbora, morat ćemo vas pregaziti." I umjetnici s kojima sam bio rekli su, "Dajte nam minutu. Samo minutu da vam kažemo zašto smo ovdje." Vojnik je prekrižio ruke, a umjetnik je započeo jeffersonski hvalospjev demokraciji kakav bismo mi koji živimo u jeffersonskoj demokraciji teško mogli izložiti. I pričali su i pričali, i vojnik je gledao, i onda je sjedio ondje punu minutu nakon što su završili i gledao u nas mokre na kiši, i rekao, "Ono što ste rekli je istina, i moramo se pokloniti volji ljudi. Ako raščistite dovoljno prostora da se okrenemo, vratit ćemo se odakle smo došli." I to su i učinili. Ponekad, lažiranje značenja može vam dati vokabular koji trebate da bi se borili za svoju konačnu slobodu.
Russia awakened me to the lemonade notion that oppression breeds the power to oppose it. And I gradually understood that as the cornerstone of identity. It took identity to rescue me from sadness. The gay rights movement posits a world in which my aberrances are a victory. Identity politics always works on two fronts: to give pride to people who have a given condition or characteristic, and to cause the outside world to treat such people more gently and more kindly. Those are two totally separate enterprises, but progress in each sphere reverberates in the other. Identity politics can be narcissistic. People extol a difference only because it's theirs. People narrow the world and function in discrete groups without empathy for one another. But properly understood and wisely practiced, identity politics should expand our idea of what it is to be human. Identity itself should be not a smug label or a gold medal, but a revolution.
Rusija mi je pokazala sladunjavu ideju da opresija stvara snagu koja će joj se suprotstaviti, i postupno sam to shvatio kao kamen temeljac identiteta. Bio je potreban identitet da me spasi od tuge. Pokret za prava homoseksualaca postavlja svijet gdje moja zastranjivanja postaju pobjede. Politika identiteta uvijek djeluje dvojako: daje osjećaj ponosa ljudima s određenim stanjem ili karakteristikom, i potiče svijet da tretira takve ljude puno nježnije i ljubaznije. Ovo su dva potpuno odvojena nastojanja, ali napredak u bilo kojoj od tih sfera odražava se na drugu. Politika identiteta može biti narcisoidna. Ljudi veličaju razliku samo zato što je njihova. Ljudi sužavaju svijet i funkcioniranje u diskretnim grupama bez suosjećanja za druge. No, pravilno razumijevanje i mudro prakticiranje politike identiteta trebalo bi proširiti našu ideju onoga što znači biti čovjek. Identitet sam po sebi ne bi trebao biti samodopadna odlika ili zlatna medalja već revolucija.
I would have had an easier life if I were straight, but I would not be me. And I now like being myself better than the idea of being someone else, someone who, to be honest, I have neither the option of being nor the ability fully to imagine. But if you banish the dragons, you banish the heroes, and we become attached to the heroic strain in our own lives. I've sometimes wondered whether I could have ceased to hate that part of myself without gay pride's technicolor fiesta, of which this speech is one manifestation.
Imao bih puno lakši život da sam "straight", ali to ne bih bio ja, i sada više volim biti ja nego netko drugi, netko tko, zapravo, nemam ni opciju biti niti mogućnost da u potpunosti zamislim. Ali ako prognate zmajeve, prognat ćete junake, i postajemo privrženi herojskoj crti u našim vlastitim životima. Ponekada sam se pitao bih li mogao prestati mrziti taj dio sebe bez šarene proslave gej pridea, čija je manifestacija i ovaj govor.
(Laughter)
Mislio sam da ću biti zreo
I used to think I would know myself to be mature when I could simply be gay without emphasis. But the self-loathing of that period left a void, and celebration needs to fill and overflow it, and even if I repay my private debt of melancholy, there's still an outer world of homophobia that it will take decades to address. Someday, being gay will be a simple fact, free of party hats and blame. But not yet. A friend of mine who thought gay pride was getting very carried away with itself, once suggested that we organize Gay Humility Week.
kada budem jednostavno mogao biti gej bez naglašavanja, ali samoprijezir tog razdoblja ostavio je prazninu, i proslava je mora napuniti i preplaviti, i čak i ako otplatim svoj privatni dug melankolije, još uvijek postoji vanjski svijet homofobije za koji će trebati desetljeća da se prozove. Jednoga dana, biti gej bit će jednostavna činjenica, bez ikakvih šarenih šeširića i krivice, ali ne još. Moj prijatelj koji je mislio da se gej pride poprilično zanio sam sobom, jednom je predložio da organiziramo
(Laughter)
Tjedan Gej Poniznosti.
(Applause)
(Smijeh) (Pljesak)
It's a great idea.
To je super ideja,
(Laughter)
ali njeno vrijeme još nije došlo.
But its time has not yet come.
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
And neutrality, which seems to lie halfway between despair and celebration, is actually the endgame.
I neutralnost, koja, čini se, leži na pola puta između očaja i slavlja, je zapravo završna igra.
In 29 states in the US, I could legally be fired or denied housing for being gay. In Russia, the anti-propaganda law has led to people being beaten in the streets. Twenty-seven African countries have passed laws against sodomy. And in Nigeria, gay people can legally be stoned to death, and lynchings have become common. In Saudi Arabia recently, two men who had been caught in carnal acts were sentenced to 7,000 lashes each, and are now permanently disabled as a result. So who can forge meaning and build identity? Gay rights are not primarily marriage rights, and for the millions who live in unaccepting places with no resources, dignity remains elusive. I am lucky to have forged meaning and built identity, but that's still a rare privilege. And gay people deserve more, collectively, than the crumbs of justice.
U 29 američkih država, legalno bih mogao dobiti otkaz ili bi mi mogao biti odbijen smještaj zato što sam gej. U Rusiji, zakon o anti-propagandi doveo je do toga da su ljude tukli na ulici. Dvadeset i sedam afričkih zemalja donijele su zakone protiv sodomije, a u Nigeriji, gej ljudi mogu legalno biti kamenovani do smrti, i linčevi su postali uobičajeni. U Saudijskoj Arabiji nedavno, dva muškarca koje su uhvatili u tjelesnom činu, osuđeni su na 7000 udaraca bičem, i kao posljedica toga, sada su trajno invalidi. I tko može lažirati značenje i graditi identitet? Gej prava nisu primarno pravo na brak, i za milijune onih koji žive na mjestima koja ih ne prihvaćaju bez resursa, dostojanstvo ostaje nedostižno. Sretan sam što sam lažirao značenje i izgradio identitet, ali to je još uvijek rijetka privilegija, i gej ljudi zaslužuju više kolektivno od mrvica pravde.
And yet, every step forward is so sweet. In 2007, six years after we met, my partner and I decided to get married. Meeting John had been the discovery of great happiness and also the elimination of great unhappiness. And sometimes, I was so occupied with the disappearance of all that pain, that I forgot about the joy, which was at first the less remarkable part of it to me. Marrying was a way to declare our love as more a presence than an absence.
A ipak, svaki korak naprijed je tako sladak. U 2007., šest godina nakon upoznavanja, moj partner i ja odlučili smo stupiti u brak. Upoznati Johna bilo je otkriće velike sreće i otklanjanje velike tuge, i ponekad sam bio toliko okupiran nestankom sve te boli da sam zaboravio na radost, što je isprva bio manje dojmljiv dio toga za mene. Brak je bio način da izrazimo našu ljubav više kao prisutnost nego odsustvo.
Marriage soon led us to children, and that meant new meanings and new identities -- ours and theirs. I want my children to be happy, and I love them most achingly when they are sad. As a gay father, I can teach them to own what is wrong in their lives, but I believe that if I succeed in sheltering them from adversity, I will have failed as a parent. A Buddhist scholar I know once explained to me that Westerners mistakenly think that nirvana is what arrives when all your woe is behind you, and you have only bliss to look forward to. But he said that would not be nirvana, because your bliss in the present would always be shadowed by the joy from the past. Nirvana, he said, is what you arrive at when you have only bliss to look forward to and find in what looked like sorrows the seedlings of your joy. And I sometimes wonder whether I could have found such fulfillment in marriage and children if they'd come more readily, if I'd been straight in my youth or were young now, in either of which cases this might be easier. Perhaps I could. Perhaps all the complex imagining I've done could have been applied to other topics. But if seeking meaning matters more than finding meaning, the question is not whether I'd be happier for having been bullied, but whether assigning meaning to those experiences has made me a better father. I tend to find the ecstasy hidden in ordinary joys, because I did not expect those joys to be ordinary to me.
Brak nas je uskoro doveo do djece, i to je dovelo do novih značenja i novih identiteta, naših i njihovih. Želim da moja djeca budu sretna, i najviše ih volim kada su tužna. Kao gej roditelj, mogu ih naučiti da prihvate ono što je krivo u njihovim životima, ali vjerujem da ako ih uspijem zaštiti od raznovrsnosti, podbacit ću kao roditelj. Budistički učenjak kojeg poznajem jednom mi je objasnio da Zapadnjaci pogrešno misle da je nirvana nešto što stiže kada su sve brige iza tebe i da te očekuje samo sreća. Ali rekao je da to ne bi bila nirvana, jer vaša trenutna sreća uvijek bi bila u sjeni vaše radosti iz prošlosti. Nirvana je, kaže, kada dođete do toga da imate samo sreću kojoj ćete se veseliti i kada u onome što su bile tuge pronađete sadnice vaše sreće. I ponekad se pitam bih li mogao pronaći takvo ispunjenje u braku i djeci da su došli spremniji, da sam bio "straight" u mladosti ili da sam sada mlad, kada bi to, u oba slučaja, bilo lakše. Možda bih mogao. Možda bi moja složena zamišljanja mogla biti primijenjena na druge teme. Ali ako traženje značenja znači više od njegova pronalaska, pitanje nije bih li bio sretniji što su me zlostavljali, već je li pridavanje značenja tim iskustvima mene učinilo boljim ocem. Ekstazu pronalazim skrivenu u običnim radostima, jer nisam očekivao da će te radosti biti obične za mene.
I know many heterosexuals who have equally happy marriages and families, but gay marriage is so breathtakingly fresh, and gay families so exhilaratingly new, and I found meaning in that surprise.
Znam mnoge heteroseksualce koji imaju jednako sretne brakove i obitelji, ali gej brak je tako svjež, i gej obitelji su toliko uzbudljivo nove, i pronašao sam značenje u tom iznenađenju.
In October, it was my 50th birthday, and my family organized a party for me. And in the middle of it, my son said to my husband that he wanted to make a speech. And John said, "George, you can't make a speech. You're four."
U listopadu sam navršio pedeset godina, i moja obitelj organizirala je zabavu za mene, i u sred zabave, moj sin rekao je mom suprugu da želi održati govor, i John je rekao, "George, ti ne možeš održati govor. Imaš četiri godine."
(Laughter)
(Smijeh)
"Only Grandpa and Uncle David and I are going to make speeches tonight." But George insisted and insisted, and finally, John took him up to the microphone, and George said very loudly, "Ladies and gentlemen! May I have your attention, please?" And everyone turned around, startled. And George said, "I'm glad it's daddy's birthday. I'm glad we all get cake. And Daddy, if you were little, I'd be your friend."
"Samo djed, i ujak David i ja održat ćemo govore večeras." Ali George je inzistirao i inzistirao, i John ga je najzad podigao do mikrofona, i George je rekao vrlo glasno, "Dame i gospodo, mogu li dobiti vašu pozornost, molim vas." I svi su se okrenuli, zastrašeni. I George je rekao, "Drago mi je da je tatin rođendan. Drago mi je da ćemo svi jesti tortu. I tata, da si malen, ja bih bio tvoj prijatelj."
(Gasp)
And I thought -- (Applause) Thank you. I thought that I was indebted even to Bobby Finkel, because all those earlier experiences were what had propelled me to this moment, and I was finally unconditionally grateful for a life I'd once have done anything to change.
I pomislio sam - Hvala ti. Pomislio sam da sam dužan čak i Bobbyju Finkelu, jer su me sva prijašnja iskustva dovela do tog trenutka, i napokon sam bio bezuvjetno zahvalan za život koji sam jednom htio promijeniti pod svaku cijenu.
The gay activist Harvey Milk was once asked by a younger gay man what he could do to help the movement, and Harvey Milk said, "Go out and tell someone." There's always somebody who wants to confiscate our humanity. And there are always stories that restore it. If we live out loud, we can trounce the hatred, and expand everyone's lives.
Gej aktivist Harvey Milk, kada ga je mlađi gej muškarac upitao što može učiniti kako bi pomogao pokretu, odgovorio je, "Idi i reci nekome." Uvijek postoji netko tko želi zaplijeniti našu čovječnost, i uvijek postoje priče koje je povrate. Ako živimo glasno, možemo nadići mržnju i proširiti svačije živote.
Forge meaning. Build identity. Forge meaning. Build identity. And then invite the world to share your joy.
Lažirajte značenje. Izgradite identitet. Lažirajte značenje. Izgradite identitet. I onda pozovite svijet da dijeli vašu radost.
Thank you.
Hvala vam.
(Applause)
(Pljesak)
Thank you.
Hvala vam. (Pljesak)
(Applause)
Hvala vam. (Pljesak)
Thank you.
(Applause)
Thank you.
Hvala vam. (Pljesak)
(Applause)