An Open Letter of Apology to My Guncles

Dear Uncle Ron and Uncle Anthony,
I’m sure you’ve heard the quote by Maya Angelou, “Do the best you can until you know better. Then when you know better, do better.” It’s one of my favorites, and I hope you’ll keep it in mind as you read this and know that the spirit of that quote is why I wanted to write this letter. I’ll get to the apology, I promise, but I hope you don’t mind if I take the long way there.

Until fairly recently, I didn’t like to speak out on much. Well, that’s not entirely true – I speak entirely too much! But mostly about things that don’t really matter. I’ve been heard saying before, “I don’t discuss politics or religion; they’re too private.” I’ve always been one to be brutally honest when asked my opinion, but I haven’t much spoken out about important topics in a proactive way. You know, as an ally. I had a conversation with a co-worker of mine in NYC last fall and I told him that I felt something shifting within me – I told him that with Donald Trump in office and all of the injustice I see in this country, that it was beginning to feel that speaking out was a moral obligation. Since then, well, things have gotten significantly worse in our country in numerous ways. With the heightened attention recently to the rampant racism and intolerance in our country, I’ve been doing a lot of self-reflection. What I’ve realized is that silence is betrayal. And as I’ve discovered all of this, I’ve considered how my (relative) silence must have felt to you as events unfolded around your wedding.

I’m so sorry for not being a better ally then, for not using the power of my voice. I did share my opinions when asked, but I realize now how much more I could have and should have done. I was new to the family and afraid to “ruffle feathers,” but the truth of the matter is – some feathers need ruffled. As I’ve been self-examining, I’ve been forced to admit that my desire to keep quiet on topics that I indeed have strong opinions about is a display of my privilege. My unwillingness to have hard conversations and to face confrontation is me caring more about my own comfort than I care for others that partners in creating long-overdue change. It’s time to stop staying quiet and start speaking up.

For the record, what I should have said then that I can only say now is: I love your love. I wish you could have got married at the first point you desired to do so, because I believe you have every right to. I admire your lifelong commitment to one another, and it serves as an inspiration to me in my own marriage. I believe your love is just as accepted by God as mine or anyone else’s – like one of my idols, Glennon Doyle, always says, “God is inside of you.” I’ve seen God in both of you – Uncle Anthony, in how you take such care of everyone and everything. Uncle Ron, in how you connect with human beings in such a deep and authentic way.

I hope you know that my heart has always been with you. Nothing I’ve said in this letter is any different from how I felt when I first met you two, or on your wedding day, or any day since. But I have grown, and I realize that thinking and feeling these things are not the same as saying them out loud. So, you’ve always had my heard, but I promise you from this point forward, my voice will be with you too. I love you both!