Last night we went to Nicole's cousin's engagement party. As seems to be Long Island/NYC tradition, it was a lavish affair despite the family being very middle-class. People really stretch their pockets for these kinds of things here and it is such a culture shock from what I grew up with. Whether you want to attribute that to my southern background or being raised by one parent from the midwest and another from rural upstate New York, it's all the same as far as this goes. We are modest, humble people, and while these are beautiful events, I've been to enough by now to know it's the norm here and that it will be a struggle for me someday when it's for my own child who will expect what they see around them. Especially because I married a Long Islander (and into a family here) for whom this doesn't seem so crazy, so I feel like I will be the only one thinking it doesn't make sense to go broke for parties.
But anyway...those are feelings that come up with every engagement party, bridal shower, baby shower, First Communion, etc. that I attend, so I will try to check my conflicting emotions and stick to the topic.
At the party (which was complete with a seated 5-course dinner, DJ and dancing, favors, table assignments, open beer and wine bar, personalized menus, centerpieces, a sweetheart table, and a "practice" father-daughter dance) Nicole and I kind of sat back during the dancing and frivolity. We generally do, because it's never comfortable to be the one same-sex couple on the dance floor at someone else's main and very heterosexual event. Neither of us are extraverted or enjoy dancing, so it's typically not that difficult. But when a slow song comes on and we get kind of mushy, we usually just look at each other but don't get up and dance. We know we aren't in an environment where everyone is necessarily comfortable with gayness, and we don't want to draw attention at someone else's party. We don't want someone's engagement to have shadows of "there were two GIRLS dancing together there, who were they, are you related to them??"
About an hour before the end of the party, the DJ invited alllll couples up to the dance floor while he played "Unchained Melody" (also known as the song from Ghost). I told Nicole that if enough people truly went up there and I felt we could blend in, then I'd want to dance. So the floor soon got crowded and we went up there. About five seconds later, Nicole's 19-year-old cousin and his boyfriend joined, coming up right next to us, and I immediately felt shame for not having come up sooner. This kid was 16 when we our engagement made him feel he could finally come out (not to anyone's surprise, but to his father and brother's not-unexpected levels of almost cruel disapproval where they still use the term "faggot" in everyday conversation). He looked up to us and used us as his litmus test for what he could expect to experience. Seeing the warm reception that his big cousin Nicole got when we got engaged made him feel like he could be warmly accepted and loved by his extended family, if not by his own father and brother. At our wedding, he was near tears as he told us how happy he was for us and how we had changed everything for him.
And now, here we were modeling shame, or at the very least discomfort, at probably the first big family event where he has actually found the courage to bring a date, much to his father and brother's chagrin. All it took was our bit of reassurance to give him the freedom to enjoy dancing with his boyfriend like he'd probably wanted to all night.
I told Nicole as we danced that we have to be better about that and less scared or less desirous of being invisible. We knew her cousin was right there at our table and we didn't even think about the impact our behavior would have on him, the example we were setting without knowing it. Imagine in a room of less familiar people where we don't know who is out there, what young kid might be struggling with feeling comfortable in their own skin. As confident adults, we have a responsibility to be ourselves where it is safe to do so. We don't have to be anything we aren't - we will NEVER be cutting a rug on a dance floor for hours - but intentionally avoiding something we want to do because we don't want to make waves, essentially apologizing for our existence, is not something we want to model for anyone. And we certainly don't want our kids one day to feel a sense of shame from us - "All the other married people are dancing to this slow song, why aren't you?" Yeah no. It's not just about us.
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