The first question was easy.
My colleagues and I were nearly done with our final training session. It was dark outside of my classroom, not only because it was December, but also because it was late. We were wrapping up many hours of professional development after a full day of being actual professionals, so I was grateful for easy questions.
"How many of you can call yourselves a 'person of color?' If you are among that group, type 'IN'! If not, type, 'OUT'!"
The speaker was eminent educator for those of us who work in bilingual education: Dr. José Medina. In case you neither Tik, nor Tok, he is a force for linguistic justice in public education. Besides very practical strategies for language teachers and learners, he emphasizes equity for all students who experience marginalization in the classroom. His fabulous and engaging personality reached across the Zoom connection that evening, making sure we were as involved as 10 or so people seated at their respective electronic devices could be.
My most prominent hue being the blue veinery, criss-crossing my fairly fair skin, it was easy to type "OUT" in the chat comments. My colleagues and friends in that meeting mostly counted themselves as "IN," and we were on to the next question.
"Now! How many of you count yourselves among the LGBTQ+ community? Same thing! 'IN,' if so, 'OUT' if not!"
As I watched "OUT" after "OUT" pop up in the chat, I realized I was about to out myself, by typing "IN."
Which felt simultaneously obvious and irrelevant. I mean, look at me.
But, also, look at us.
In answering that completely unexpected and ironically binary question, I not only knew that I'd be lying if I typed "OUT."
I also knew I would also be hiding behind my family; playing coy with haircuts and bowties when other people risk their safety, jobs, homes, families, and lives for being truthful in moments just like that one.
I would be betraying what I have always taught my own children about human diversity, about being brave enough to be truthful, and knowing that the people in your life desperately need the most honest version of you.
Before I could think about it, I submitted my comment with a click on *Enter,* while trying to appear nonchalant in front of my webcam.
Nobody cares. Obvious and irrelevant, right?
Then, why were my hands shaking?
The meeting ended soon afterward. I put on my coat, grabbed my bag and keys, and left my classroom. Motion-sensing lights in the dark hallway popped on, one by one, bathing my way in white light, as I walked to the exit.
A growing stillness settled within me.
My car waited in the nearly empty parking lot. I got in, started the engine, and selected a playlist for the drive home. The music started and the heater was warming up when I turned onto the highway and sped toward town.
Breathing felt easy and my thoughts were simple. It's hard to explain. I felt like I finally owned all of myself. June could not be further away, but I felt, well,
(Thanks to Golden Hour Images 2 for the beautiful photos.)
