Meditation and Pride

I didn’t start meditating until after I came out – which, in my case, was relatively late, around age thirty. 

I don’t think this was a coincidence.  I don’t know if I’d be able to “sit” with all the shame, tension, and deceit that I’d lived with for the first decade of my adult life. After all, I was lying to everyone I knew, especially those closest to me, about something essential to who I am in the world. 

At the same time, I don’t want to shame myself for all that deceit.  It was a survival tactic.  Growing up in Florida, way back in the 1980s, being gay was about the worst thing a boy could be.  So of course, I denied it – first to myself, and then to others.

Eventually, though, I just couldn’t go on living that way.  Even if coming out would basically end my life as I knew it, I felt like I’d rather do that than continue half-living the way that I had been.

Of course, what actually happened wasn’t the end of my life but the beginning of it. Being more honest was the gateway to love, intimacy, friendship, and being more in touch with what I wanted in life.

Not coincidentally, that’s also when I got interested in meditation.  Which, at its heart, is about seeing clearly, truthfully, non-judgmentally… honestly.  In a way, every moment of mindfulness is a moment of coming out.  It’s a small “yes” to whatever your reality is, whether it’s mundane or joyful or even terrifying.  It’s accepting what’s true, even the difficult parts.  It’s having the courage to be ourselves.

There’s a myth about meditation that it’s just about ‘Zenning Out’ and becoming a kind of blank slate with no thoughts or identity whatsoever.  But in fact, we bring all of ourselves to meditation: our backgrounds, our genders, our sexuality, our privilege, our bodies and abilities, our age – everything. We don’t erase who we are when we meditate; we become more in touch with all of these different aspects of our experience. 

Of course, there are moments in meditation where all of these experiences and identities melt away, and we’re left with the raw experience of “just this,” as some spiritual teachers say.  Those moments are profound: simple, quiet, gentle, still. But then we dance back into ourselves, and the cycle begins again.

Finally, one of the most powerful aspects of meditation is its capacity to stimulate empathy.

To share a personal example, when I was growing up, “transgender” was not a word I knew.  I didn’t have any notion that people’s deeply-felt gender identity could be different from their biological sex.  So of course I was ignorant.  We all were.  And when I started to learn about trans people, I had ignorant responses to them.

But as time went on, that changed.  I became friends with trans people, read books, and watched films, and eventually I started to “get it.”  And my meditation practice helped me do that. 

One time, I remember thinking about what it would really be like if my sense of my own gender was at odds with my body.  I explored this one time while meditating, trying to imagine that sense of dysphoria and discomfort: what it might feel like in the body, the heart, the mind.

I also looked more closely at my own resistance. What was really going on? In the thoughts that arose, I saw closed-mindedness, ignorance, and privilege. I noticed my body tensing up to defend itself. Mostly, I noticed that there was a lot of fear.

Conversely, I imagined what it might be like to have that burden lifted, like I’d had my own burden lifted years ago.  I was filled with such joy, just sitting there, imagining trans or nonbinary or gender-non-conforming people being able to be themselves, in all of the infinite variety of human experience.  Of course that was just in my imagination.  I experienced much more of that joy seeing it in real life, among both friends and people in the media.

Developing that empathy has real consequences for justice – especially today, when trans people’s rights and basic safety are being rolled back by people motivated by fear,  opportunism, or ignorance.  When we wake up our emotional capacities, we enable ourselves to care more, understand more, and act more justly toward those who are often stigmatized. We become productively intolerant of injustice.

These are some of the ways that mindfulness has intersected with my self-understanding, my self-acceptance, and my respect for others. It’s why, in my view, Pride is an invitation to everyone, wherever you find yourself on the spectrums of sexuality and gender. As you come to know the truth of your experience and the experiences of others, you grow in your humanity. You nourish empathy and understanding. You cultivate a more mindful, justice-focused life.