Bravery

Recently, in a comment from a dear friend, she said I was brave. Brave to stand up and deal with the crap from my family, I guess. Over the past 6 years, I have thought a lot about bravery at my job and in my life. It is a word that I use and others have used for me, one that I am not sure always that it fits me.

I am a music therapist and work with children undergoing painful medical procedures and painful physical rehabilitation. I go into these procedures with the nurses or therapists and use music to reduce the children’s pain and anxiety. I watch these kids deal with pain and suffering that I have only a slight understanding of having never experienced anything like what they have. The other day, I was working with a kid and told her she was being so brave. She said “No I am not. I am crying and scared.” That made me think more about courage and bravery and what it feels like.

When thinking about bravery, I think first about being a lesbian and working for my civil rights. And when it comes to civil rights activism, Peaches and I are no slouches. Throughout both our lives, we have fought for LGBT civil rights. Many, many years ago, I was an outspoken lesbian in a scary western state. I got threats of death and rape frequently on my phone. There was even a cross burned on the lawn where I lived. I am glad I moved when I think of that. Together, Peaches and I have protested for LGBT rights, women’s rights, and AIDS funding. More recently, Peaches and I proudly stood up at rallies and protests for same-sex marriage. Being both secure in our jobs and lives, we could stand in front and be photographed and interviewed. Our local NPR station did a 3-part story on us getting legally married; with a one-year later follow up story too. So many of our friends told us how brave we were to be so visible and to stand up next to those who want to put you down.

When Peaches and I were married in our church (you see there is the legal marriage in 2004, the church wedding in 2001, and the civil union in Vermont in 2001), our friends and family came to support and toast us. So many people talked about our bravery to live out-loud. Our friends and family spoke of how we do not hid who we are and buck the system by getting married when the state (at that time) would not allow it. Many of my friends live still in that scary western state and do not have the social and state protections we have here in MA. They toasted our courage over and over.

Recently, when I filed a civil rights discrimination complaint, Peaches hugged me and told me I was brave. I sat there, swallowing my tears, trying not to cry, and was shaking all over. I felt so small and was so thankful she was with me.

I think about all those times when I am told I am being brave and you know what? I don’t feel courage or bravery; instead I feel scared shitless or like crying. When I at the protests, it is scary. I feel so small but I have to be there. I have to make them see me. That isn't courage or bravery, it is determination to not be less than everyone else any more. As I think about bravery, I doubt there is really a feeling of bravery. I think it is still doing what you have to do despite feeling like running for the hills and hiding.

I told the kid at work that I think when people are brave they feel scared and cry but keep doing what they have to do, which is what she had done that morning. She looked at me as only a pre-adolescent kid can do and said she did not believe me. But I think I am right. Come on, I've got almost 30 years on her. So to my friend who told me I was brave and that she hopes to be as brave as me, you are. Just like I know that little girl is brave, I know you are too.