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Saturday, August 19, 2006

Reflections: Going to Grad. School -- Part II

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 19 August 2006, at 12:38 pm, and posted here on 24 May 2007:

Dear God,

Please let me thrive at Teachers College. Let me strive for excellence without being self-defeatingly competitive. Let me collaborate and become part of the community, and not try to be a star out of insecurity, or for any reason.

Let me be humble, open, creative and disciplined. Thank you for helping me reach this occasion. Amen.

Love,
Sarah

Yesterday, I wrote out the prayer above, and then, getting way ahead of myself on the one hand, or doing advance-planning on the other, I spent an afternoon of my vacation, playing with ERIC (http://www.columbia.edu/cu/lweb/eresources/databases/2552765.html) and Columbia University Electronic Dissertations (http://digitalcommons.libraries.columbia.edu/dissertations/). I wanted to start thinking about what it could be like to create a dissertation, to do a huge piece of original research. Of course, I have to earn the M.A. first, which will take at least two and a half years, since I'll be working full-time while studying part-time. Still, it was fun to do a bit of dreaming and free-associating.

The following essay, which I submitted with my M.A. application, provides context for a number of searched items in the list below:

Sarah Siegel’s Personal Essay for the Teachers College Application


Why would I wish to pursue Adult Learning and Leadership as a formal Masters, and ultimately Doctorate, when already, I have done my best to live the name of the program during much of my career? I want to go beyond my good hunches.
I want to understand the building-blocks of how adults learn and how they lead organizations effectively. Most of all, I care about inspiring leaders to be brave and authentic, and I am in need of further inspiration myself now. The Adult Learning and Leadership program, I feel, would add significantly to the inspiration I’m seeking, and I believe, too, that I would be a useful member of the Teachers College student community.

At IBM, I have had several careers, the majority of which have required some fundamental self-reinvention. How have I made the transition from each one of the careers to the next? Practically, it feels like tacit knowledge and I want it to be explicit. What if my experience were broadly, consciously replicable? An academic framework would help me see the possibilities. I feel ready to go beyond on-the-job learning – valuable as it has been, and as well as it has served me so far.

How can I share lessons learned about brave and authentic leadership in a way that inspires other leaders? It is not enough simply to tell my story, that I helped start up the first sales team of its kind in the Fortune 500 – dedicated to serving business-to-business gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) and GLBT-friendly clients worldwide; and that the team is now more than twice its size, and so has not only lived on beyond me, it is thriving; and that it is facilitating a culture-change, encouraging an unprecedented openness and authenticity in the business world. My hypothesis is that the openness is leading to more courageous leadership, and to more leaders reaching their potential. Perhaps it would be worth researching and trying to prove my hypothesis.

Another big research topic for me could be how leaders among varying cultures learn, and become brave, along with what it means to be authentic from their particular cultural perspective. In my current role, I have facilitated (instructed) leadership development programs in Asia, Europe and the United States, and would like academic, industrial-strength help in determining the value of the insights gained during my travels.

For example, while facilitating a program in China, there was no budget for break-time snacks, but rather for books; every day, the class voted on the most active participant, who won a book on Leadership for his or her contributions. In other geographies, there was a budget for snacks, but not yet for books! Some kvetch about jobs going to Asia, but whose hunger is greater for education than for snacks?

Or what about leaders in India, who in my experience of training them, due to explosive growth, necessarily are called to leadership earlier in their careers than leaders in most other countries? What bravery is involved there? And how can they learn quickly what most of us around the world learn over time?

Earning the Adult Learning and Leadership Masters degree would validate or re-shape my instincts, and would inform my judgment, increasing my ability to inspire leaders to lead bravely and authentically. In my current and future roles, it would also let me consider more than simply delivery of leadership development programs; I would be able to understand their backstory and finale, that is, I would be able to explore program design as well as senior leadership of organizations. The M.A., and ideally, the Ed.D. ultimately would help me be of greatest service in the adult learning and leadership arena.

* * *


Columbia dissertations that include these keywords or keyword-phrases and amount of dissertations that correspond:

Diversity in the workplace 14
Corporate culture 78
Minority executives 13
Globalization 82
Adult education 294
Experiential learning 21
Storytelling 14
Transfer of training 52
Management 607
Decision making 309
Bravery 0
Courage 23
Change 975
Leadership Development 181
Leadership 350
Lesbian 14
Homosexual 17
Jew 15
Jewish 109
Authenticity 36
Identity 541
IBM 36
Global business 184
Learning 844

It feels like the revelation I had with "e-business" all over again. In the late-90s, I remember thinking, so many IBMers are thinking about how to get to the next level of e-business adoption, trying to think of the next great e-business innovation. So much imagination is being channeled in that direction. Why channel mine likewise when, instead, I could channel it in a direction that far fewer IBMers are taking: how to reach the business-to-business market of gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender (GLBT) business decisionmakers, i.e., current and future clients....I'm likelier to make a more visible contribution to the company doing so than continuing to focus on e-business like so many others are doing.

Notice the number of Columbia dissertations, for example, that have been written on the topic of, say, "Management" and then compare it to the number that have been written on, say, "Courage" or even "Globalization" relatively. It's interesting to write all of this at this embryonic phase of my grad. school education. Let's see how my thinking and learning changes over time.

Meanwhile, among the specific dissertations that looked particularly interesting yesterday, I found the following sample:


The journey of becoming a diversity practitioner: The connection between experience, learning, and competence
Terrence Earl Maltbia, COLUMBIA UNIVERSITY TEACHERS COLLEGE

Faculty Advisor: Victoria Marsick
Date: 2001


The impact of gay identity and perceived milieu toward gay employees on job involvement and organizational commitment of gay men
Richard Randall Rogers, Columbia University

Faculty Advisor: Peter C. Cairo
Date: 1998

And during a previous session of columbia.edu web-trawling, I found the following organization to join:
http://www.tc.edu/students/queertc/index_files/page0003.htm If it turns out to be rewarding, I'll write about it in a future journal entry.

Note added on May 25, 2007: I did join QueerTC and was fortunate to serve on a panel for the organization this spring.

Before, during and after school begins on September 1st, I ought to check out a site that was recommended as a link from Teachers College's web site: http://gradschool.about.com/od/survivinggraduateschool/.

Reflections: Going to Grad. School -- Part I

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 19 August 2006, at 12:37 pm, and posted here on 24 May 2007:

Returning to the Ladies Locker-room at the YMHA (Jewish Community Center) after swimming this morning, I am unable to use my favorite shower because the woman who had been sharing my lane has taken it...even though my towel and shampoo is hanging on the hook right outside it. My routine is disrupted. Now what?

She hears me move my stuff and says, "Oh, sorry."

"It's fine," but the alternate shower I choose has no soap, and really, it isn't fine. It's my shower. Every morning that I swim. At least when I'm not on vacation and arrive there super-early.

Noticing her shampoo-bag is a plastic shopping bag with "Graphos" written on it in Hebrew, I call from my shower to hers: "Did you live in Israel for a time? I noticed your bag."

"Yes. I just got back from a year there."

"How great." I step over to the next empty shower-stall to pump a handful of liquid-soap, saying, "I lived there for a year, too, a long time ago, in Jerusalem." The shower-water's louder than I'd like, but I talk over it, "What took you to Israel for a year?"

"Oh, I was in a seminary."

"Neat." So she's a rabbinical student maybe.

"Where were you when you were there?" she asks me.

"I was at Hebrew University during my junior year of college, and we used to have to take a cross-town bus every morning to the Givat Ram campus to swim. And now, there's this gorgeous pool, an infinity-style one, where the water spills over the edges on purpose, but not when I was there. Right on the Mount Scopus campus. Where did you swim while you were there?"

No answer. Oh, she left to dry off. For how long have I been speaking to myself, I wonder.

"Sorry, I didn't hear you," she says, apparently returning to hear my question and then answers:

"There was a pool in a building called the Soldiers' House. And I went there. There were soldiers everywhere on the main floors, and I went to the bottom of the building, where the pool was. It was nice, actually."

Typically, during vacation, my partner Pat would be with me and I'd talk with her in the locker-room, but she's volunteering at the soup kitchen today and so I'm alone. Or when I'm working, I get there earlier than Pat and my routine is simply to rinse off in the shower quickly, and then swim my laps and shower afterwards, all-the-while speaking with no one -- and there are far fewer people to choose from at the earlier hour in any case -- but the Graphos bag causes me to reminisce. She happened to have picked a locker near mine and so we continue the conversation.

"Are you working toward ordination?"

She looks at me oddly.

"I thought that since you were at a seminary, maybe you were a rabbinical student. Which seminary?"

"It's called Midreshet Rachel [http://www.darchenoam.org/mr/mr_home.htm], and no, I was just there to learn how to live according to the Torah [Jewish Bible]. I studied Hebrew and read in the original, which was just so great. Do you read Hebrew?"

Oy. I wonder what she'd think of my rejection of traditionally-observant Judaism, and how friendly she'd feel if I told her that after substantial Jewish education until high school, I opted to live a non-Orthodox life ultimately. "I do read Hebrew; I went to a [Modern Orthodox] day-school, growing up, and it is really rewarding to be able to read the text in the original, I agree."

I could finish getting ready and just leave, or I could introduce myself and maybe make a new friend. "I'm Sarah. What's your name?"

She tells me and I say, "Typically, I'm not here this late, but I'm on vacation this week."

"From what are you on vacation? What do you do?"

"I train our managers to be good leaders. I'm an instructor. I work for IBM, doing Leadership Development training."

"I love leadership development stuff. I worked for [a major U.S. airline] for five years, and I was a sales exec., and was always talking with HR on how to motivate the sales force further. But now, after 15 months away from it, and being back to work again -- this is my first week back -- it's just so hard....I did the year of study just for personal meaning. I mean, I didn't want to be one of those people, who says, 'I wish I had done XYZ....'"

"That's terrific. I'm going back to school part-time myself in a couple of weeks, for an M.A. in this field, actually: Adult Learning and Leadership." I see that her bag's packed. "Are you leaving now?"

"Yeah."

"Me, too. I don't have to worry about drying my hair, since I'm on vacation."

"My mother tries to make her hair look like that. It's cute."

We're walking down the hall, which is decorated with children's art from the summer camp associated with the Y and I'm thinking about their stage of schooling and then fast-forwarding to my first experience with Higher Education, and it's as if she reads my mind:

"You are going to enjoy this education so much. When we went to college, we didn't really know where it was leading, but now, you've been in the field and you'll see that you'll be able to focus and learn so much better."

"You're right. When I went to college, I didn't know what it was going to be in service to [-- my Comparative Literature / Humanities degree] -- had no idea, and this feels so much clearer."

We approach the exit and reflexively, I follow the ritual of putting my hand on the mezuzah [the small rectangular casing on all the doorposts of Jewish homes or institutions (with the exception of bathrooms), which contains the "Shema,"the central prayer of Judaism, and which is meant to protect the inhabitants from harm] and then kissing my fingers as I pass through the doorway. She misses carrying out the ritual herself. I must have distracted her. As we wave goodbye to each other, walking to our cars, I smile to myself, considering how my early Jewish education really does seem to have stayed with me after all; I was first taught to kiss the mezuzah when I was six years old, if not earlier.

On the way home, I call my mom on my cell-phone and we talk about how school is around the corner, and about the swimmer I met.

"She sounds terrific; she said everything you needed to hear at this stage." It's true. My sister Kathy, whom I've mentioned before in communiques to my Leader Readiness facilitator community, is a professional educator (principal of Brooklyn International High School http://www.brooklyninternational.org/), with a Masters in Education and another in Applied Linguistics, and she says the same thing to me, or Master Trainers Lynne Cummins and Jim Soltis offer similar encouragement, fortunately, and yet hearing it from a stranger/angel(?) seems to help me the most.

Tuesday, May 30, 2006

My Swimming Autobiography

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 30 May 2006, at 6:18 pm:

Vacation was perfect.

I swam a lot throughout it and for further relaxation, the last day, did this inventory of meaningful swimming experiences from two-41, in six states and six countries [Between 2006 and 2013, or 41-47, added additional experiences: Revisited some bodies of water in Israel along with new ones, added a pool in the U.K., and another part of a familiar ocean, but in a new country -- my first time in the other hemisphere; added several more through age 53, which I'll be for another week, including two new states, as well as returns to Israel and China]:

Stamford, the early years -- two-10

Fun
Jewish Community Center (JCC) pool and trampolines on Briar Brae Road in Stamford, Connecticut; my sisters and I would alternate between the pool and tramps for hours; there was never any adult supervision at the tramps, which were the woven kind, stretched over two rectangular pits, and we would jump from one to the other and do flips, sometimes landing with one of our then little legs between the springs, but were never afraid.

Power
In-the-ground swimming pool off of Mayapple Road in Stamford, where I took swimming lessons from a small, blond doctor's wife, who gave me tremendous confidence.

Betrayal
Swimming hole off of High Ridge Road in Stamford, where I swam with my mother and sisters, and cut the top of my foot on a rock -- and still have a scar.

Freedom
Dorothy Heroy Stamford community pool off of High Ridge, near the border of Pound Ridge, New York, where my sister Kathy and I would bike nearly every day in the summer.

Family
Out-of-the-ground pool in our yard, under a canopy of leafy trees, which meant lots of whirlpools by my sisters and me, gathering leaves from the pool's surface, and skinny-dipping with my sisters at night with only the porch-light above us as our guide.

Rarity
Best friend Alicia's in-the-ground oval pool, at her house on Rockrimmon Road in Stamford, next to which we hunted for Native American arrow-heads in the woods.

Allure
Best friend after Alicia, Jennifer Juliet's (J.J.'s), in-the-ground pool at her house on Haviland Road in Stamford; her mother lived in a bikini during the summers.

Mud
Lake in Shelton, Connecticut, at Camp Rippowam, during my first year of sleep-away camp; I liked canoeing on it better than swimming in it.

Israel, at eight
  • Salt
    The Dead Sea in Israel, where we loaned my crush and classmate a body-suit to swim in, since her mother hadn't thought it would be warm enough to swim.
  • Wonderment
    Ein Gedi, in Israel, under a waterfall with my mother; I loved my mother's plaid bathing suit and sketched a drawing of us in my journal afterwards.
Awakening
Long Island Sound in Stamford with my best friend; her sheer presence in her white bikini when we were 11 fully awakened my attraction to girls.
Frustration
Lake in Palmer, Massachusetts, at Camp Ramah, site of my Bat Mitzvah, where I tried cultivating a boyfriend, rather than studying my Torah portion and bombed at both.
Crush
Community pool in Yorktown Heights, New York with a crush from a summer drama program; at summer's end, I cried when my parents picked me up.
Adventure
Mediterranean Sea, along Chofit, Israel, next-door to my relatives' village; my cousin and I swam and body-surfed regardless of black flags posted at the lifeguard stand.
Nature
Natural pool in a gorge in Ithaca, New York; my only boyfriend ever and I visited his openly gay brother and partner for a weekend, and they took us swimming.
Sublimation
Pool on the Givat Ram campus of Hebrew University in Jerusalem; my friend and I swam 50 minutes daily for the year, including a cross-town bus-ride each way.
Israel, at 20
  • Beach
    Mediterranean Sea in Tel Aviv, Israel with my childhood Israeli friend; he wasn't much of a swimmer, though he could do innumerable pushups on his knuckles.
  • Escape
    Dead Sea again and this time, at 20, a friend and I were there with men who expected intimacy with us, and who weren't happy when it didn't materialize.
  • Danger
    Sea of Gallilee in Israel, where my friend Cathy, with whom I swam daily, stepped on a piece of glass just off shore, under the water, and needed First Aid.
  • Attraction
    Ein Gedi again; my summertime roommate Lori, along with one of the guides and I bathed there during a hike from the Sea of Gallilee to the Mediterranean Sea.
Tragedy
Italian Center in Stamford with friend Leslie during the summer after returning from my year abroad in Israel, and then Leslie was killed five years later by a drunk driver.
Vindication
University of Michigan's pools on Central Campus, where I ran into the woman for whom I had longed for two years, who I felt now showed interest in me -- too late!
Joy
Indoor pool in Chicago; my ex-girlfriend and I lived in a building that was built in the '30s and we hosted a party, turned off the lights and most of us skinny-dipped -- most of us innocently -- though a couple of our friends became a couple that night.
Youthfulness
Off the Belmont Rocks in Lake Michigan in Chicago; I dove in after my rugby coach Denise -- ah, youth....
Consolation
Marshfield YMCA in Chicago, down the street from my new apartment and I swam there nearly daily; the pool kept me company after the breakup.
Bonus
Health club in Schaumburg, Illinois, which offered a deal to Advantis employees, of which I was one before moving to IBM and to New Jersey in 1996.
Surprise
Rooftop pool of W Hotel in San Francisco, along with an exec who was a good swimmer.
Womb
JCC's indoor pool on Newfield Avenue in Stamford with my mother; I was three weeks late in being born, and so I guess I liked swimming around her then, too.
United Kingdom, in my early-30s
  • Home
    Winchester, United Kingdom (UK), at the local health club, when I'd visit the employee from Hursley who worked on my team at the time.
  • Refreshment
    London, near Golder's Green, where I swam prior to meeting with a Jewish lesbian woman who turned out to be the daughter of a man my mother had dated and liked.

Art
During business trips at the Inter-Continental in Chicago, offering the second-most dramatic pool I've ever swum in, as it was in Art Deco style.
Vacation
Ogunquit, Maine, where Pat and I stayed at a gay-owned B&B; lesbians raced in the pool while gay men lounged in the adjacent jacuzzi, to one another's amusement.
Drama
The Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island, in a giant outdoor pool designed for Esther Williams, which was the most dramatic pool I've swum in due to its size and history.
Expansion
Pacific Ocean off of Conchas Chinas Beach in Puerto Vallarta, Mexico with Pat and three friends, where the tide threw us against the shore and gave us shell-burn.
Garden
Snorkeling for the first time in the Gulf of Mexico in Costa Maya, Mexico with Pat and friends, including Paul Noga and his partner, during the EAGLE cruise.
Appreciation
Our friends' house in East Hampton, New York; lounging on my side on a pool-float, one of their comments made me feel ultimately aesthetically appreciated.
Competition
Atlantic Ocean with a friend during our visit in East Hampton; we treaded water for nearly an hour and then I felt her racing me back to shore....She won.
Marvel
Mt. Scopus campus pool at Hebrew University -- the first infinity pool I had swum in; it didn't exist 20 years ago when I was a student abroad there.
Pleasure
Outdoor pool in Stony Creek, New York, during the "Adirondyke Weekend," accepting a dare to dive in the pool in my clothes and then my Adidas track-pants slid off.
Melancholy
Community pool in Rye, New York with my friend Sarah and her kids, and sadly, couldn't recapture our childhood swimming experiences with her children there.
Solitude
Beijing indoor hotel pool, which was big and nearly round, and colder than any indoor pool I've ever swum in; there was no lifeguard and I was completely alone in the pool.
Disaster
Hotel pool in Shanghai in October, where I did butterfly, figuring I could work out the pain in my neck through swimming -- turned out not to be a good strategy.
Relief
Outdoor pool at friends' condo in St. Pete's Beach, Florida over New Year's -- my neck was still tender and so I just sat in the water, and it felt good to have no gravity on my neck.
Redemption
Young Men's Hebrew Association (YMHA) in Clifton, New Jersey, where Pat and I joined as a couple, and which has the most calm pool ever, with blue-on-blue tile.
Utility
Boston Sports Club in Lexington, Massachusetts, where the soap in the showers smelled better than the pool looked, but it was utilitarian and just fine.
Revival
Lagos community indoor pool in Madrid, Spain, which was hectic and a bit cold, but with views of gorgeous trees, and filled with older women and young gay men.
Delight
In El Escorial, Spain's community pool, including infinity edges, a gorgeous female swim coach of a beautiful teenage swim team; during one swim, a couple in the other lane were boldly affectionate, and during another swim, witnessed an adorable swim class for toddler-aged children and their parents.
Added nearly a year later, on 25 May 2007:
Molasses
In Allouez, Wisconsin, at the YMCA's pool from the '50s, Olympic-size and shallow the whole length, which is what I believe made it so slow for swimming, but it was near Pat's brother's house and so it was ultimately convenient during our vacation.
Awe
In Sturgeon Bay, Wisconsin's Y, the family of a ship-building baron had donated an ultra-fresh "aquatic center," which was Olympian-ready and giant. The water-aerobics class was held next to the lane-swimmers, with plenty of room for everyone.
Spirit
In Ann Arbor, Michigan, at the Central Campus Rec. Building's Bell Pool, which sported maize and blue banners at each end; other than Beijing's, and the out-of-the-ground pool next to our house, it was the coldest pool in which I'd ever swum.
Added on 3 November 2007:
Beep
In Bangalore, India, at the Windsor Bengaluru, where I could hear the auto-rickshaws and two-wheelers beeping beyond the wall of greenery every time I came up for air while doing the breast-stroke, and the pool was nearly as cold as Beijing's and Ann Arbor's.
Contest
In Whitefield, India, at the Palm Meadows Club, where we live, it's a competition in the lap-pool among us and the kids from around the world, floating on various blow-up toys.
Infinity
In Cochi, India, at the Taj Malabar, it felt like we could have swum over the edge of the infinity pool into the lake beyond it and then out to the Arabian Sea; it captured my imagination.
Silk
In Agra, India, at the Oberoi, the air was hot and dry and the pool smooth and huge, with a portion indoors, where a giant, gold Ganesh on the blue wall beckoned us to swim toward him over and over.
Added on 25 May 2008:
Salt II
At our friends' condo-pool at John's Pass, St. Pete Beach, Florida, where the swimming pool was a salt-water pool -- unnerving to be in a blue-bottomed, concrete enclosure, rather than the ocean and yet to taste salt-water; Pat liked our extra buoyancy.
Cooler
At our friends' pool in their backyard in South Pasadena, Florida, where the water made the hot air suddenly cooler, and where the salamanders feasted on what Rita skimmed off of the pool's surface...and where the neighbors' grandson, his grandmother and I played an endless, fun round of beach-ball volleyball.
Added on 20 September 2008:
Sugar
The Radisson Hotel on Cesar Chavez Boulevard in Austin, Texas offered sweet, warm water and the second-longest hotel-pool I've ever swum in (the longest was at the Grand Hotel on Mackinac Island). I plowed through the already-warm, early-morning darkness, while the pool-lights changed, green-red-blue, without a clock and guessed 30 minutes perfectly -- confirmed by looking in the window, at the bottom of the CNN screen on a TV monitor at the bar of T.G.I. Friday's restaurant, which overlooked the pool.
Added on 6 May 2009:
Exhalation
Danbury, Connecticut's Courtyard Mariott provided a pool not much bigger than a bathtub, but it was so lovely to immerse myself and to swim a few strokes back and forth with my French friend, Sonia, who was staying at the hotel during a business trip.
Added on 20 June 2010:
Race
Upper Saddle River, New Jersey at our friends' home in a salt-water pool big enough for a race. I won, going and Rahel might have won, returning. Rahel's daughter, Aspen, was the water-winged three-year-old sprite, who made me, if not Pat, feel like a friendly giant.
Added on 21 January 2011
Mist
Los Angeles, California, at a hotel on Wilshire the name of which I can't recall, the air was so chilly and the water so well-heated that I swam through mist till the rain began.
Added on 23 May 2012
Hike
Juneau, Alaska, at Juneau High School in August, 2011, to which we hiked for the afternoon from our ship. The pool was sponsored by BP Oil and the walls were painted green and sported the BP logo.
Chill
Dallas, Texas, at the Hyatt in October, 2011, where the indoor pool was not heated, nor the room it was in, and my visit was during unusually cold weather for the time, in the low-50s; it woke me up prior to dressing for a business dinner.
Added on 29 May 2012
Grief
Clifton, New Jersey, at L.A. Fitness gym, where we have to go, now that the Clifton YMHA closed due to low membership and being sold to a special needs school; we miss the Y.
Added on 24 November 2012
Dream
Jerusalem, Israel, at the Mt. of Olives Hotel, with my wife Pat. Being in Israel with someone who loved me (other than my parents), was dreamy. And fun to see fellow swimmers served watermelon while perching in the shallow end.
Cork
The Dead Sea, Israel. Pat & I were human corks. It was >100 degrees and it felt just as special to stand under the public showers afterward, blasting ourselves with fresh water, to rinse off all of the salt.
Congestion
Across from the Dead Sea, Israel, at Hotel Rimmonim (Pomegranates). Refreshing after the concentrated salt across the road at the Dead Sea, but then too much humanity, and plastic cups, bobbed around the giant and crammed pool till Pat & I opted out.
Vigor
Kibbutz Lavi, Galil, Israel. That morning, we were in the heat of Metro-Dead Sea, then by afternoon, in the relatively chilly air of the country's north side. We jumped in the cool pool that was indoors, but with all of its glass-doors and windows open, and with a brisk breeze blowing through.
Jelly
Tel Aviv, Israel, Mediterranean Sea. Pat and I submerged ourselves in the green-yellow dirty/cloudy water and it was also rough, pushing us around, and not in the fun way I remember when my cousin Nitza and I used to body-surf in it near Netanya when we were 15. We ran into a number from our tour-group who had welts on their arms and legs; they'd been stung by jelly fish at the same beach!
Rinse
Dan Panorama Hotel, Tel Aviv, Israel. We showered swiftly by the pool, and then slid into the shallow end, feeling relieved to rinse off the sea, and that the jelly fish had left us alone.
Ache
GuarujĂ¡, Brasil. I was with four work colleagues, rather than Pat, at the most gorgeous beach in the world: powdery-fine, white sand and glowing blue sea-water. All of us went barefoot and two of us rolled up our pants to our knees and waded in. The waves splashed above my knees and salted the cloth. I ached to dive in. It was a happy torture.
"Comfortition"
Slough, United Kingdom. It was 6 am, with only the under-water lights of the indoor pool lit. Swimming next to a colleague was both comforting and pressure-filled, which made me swim faster. I coined the term, "comfortition," while swimming and realizing the two at-odds emotions.
Treadmill
Westford, Massachusetts. The pool at the Marriott Courtyard Hotel was long enough for seven strokes per lap. Still, I loved it, as outside was the aftermath of a Nor'easter storm and yet, indoors, I was swimming in warmth.
Expansion II
Bangalore, India. April swimming at 9ish am in an outdoor pool that wasn't heated -- possible for me only during the hottest time of the year in India. Both times, had it all to myself and felt like my limbs could stretch to the four corners of the pool as I did breaststroke.
Added on 16 February 2014
Underwater-Disco
Minneapolis, Minnesota, at the Hilton. Instead of tiles, the pool floor and walls were covered with aluminum-y metal and the light played off of it, making me feel like a Disco star while I swam.
Traffic Jam
Dedham, Massachusetts, at the Hilton. The many-child family was an obstacle course and the water was as warm as a bath, but the pool-size was decent and I was desperate for a submersion after our four-hour ride through a hectic snow flurry-storm up New Jersey and much of the slice of New York we drove through. Loved the chill, coming from the glass walls, and contrasting with the heat of the pool.
Added on 2 March 2014
Steppe
Reykjavik, Iceland at the Laugardalslag public pool -- indoors. It was the hugest pool I'd ever swum in, vast, and I felt relatively tiny in it. Pat & I had the whole thing to ourselves while swimming and giant music speakers in the center of the ceiling played American '70s classic rock.
Glow
Reykjavik, Iceland, at the Laugardalslag public pool -- outdoors. Pat and I stepped out into 2-degree-Celcius weather in our wet swimsuits and with our soaked heads, feeling certain that Icelanders were crazy for doing this habitually. How could all of the other people outside look so unbothered by the weather? And then we found a hot-pot of geothermally-heated water and sunk into it, laying our heads back till our ears were covered with loving, warm water. When we exited the warmth, we couldn't remember where the door was to get back to the locker room and walked around for a time, searching. Marvelously, we were not cold, though we were still wet and it was still 2 degrees out.
Mung
Arnessysla, Iceland, at the Laugarvatn Fontana. In contrast to the public-pool experience, where I neglected to mention that there were strict matrons, making sure everyone washed naked with soap prior to suiting up, this place -- despite its crisp lake-and-mountain views -- felt unsanitary in a particular geothermal pool. Pat & I walked in up to our hips and Pat declared, perhaps a bit too loudly, as she reflected later, privately, and with a grin, "I'm not staying in this one; it's full of mung!" When we returned to the locker room, someone had taken Pat's towel...not the ultimately relaxing experience we had hoped for, but then we climbed a glacier and saw the Northern Lights that night and felt better.
Goo
Svartsengi, Iceland, at the Blue Lagoon. I think of this as the Goo Lagoon because while it was spacious, the geothermally-heated, mineral-rich liquid we moved through was super-viscous and my feet wondered at the unsavory bottom, full of toe-stubbing opportunities and gloppy squishiness. Also, people were drinking drinks while immersed and there were no signs, let alone human monitors, requiring pre-immersion showers, so I wondered at the cleanliness -- or lack -- of it. The best part was wrapping my arms around Pat's shoulders and resting my cheek on her back and being ferried part-way 'round the space for a ride. My favorite experience of geo-thermal water had been at the public pool four days prior.
Added on 1 February 2018
Mood-light
Jerusalem, Israel, at the Mamilla Hotel. Felt underground, but not in the way the ancient part of the Old City's underground looked, all stony and tunnelly. It was warm and shallow and mood-lit and purple-tiled. Spent better time on the elliptical, watching Katy Perry sing on my monitor while listening to two apparently local women and neighbors of the hotel, speaking animatedly in Hebrew during their workout.
Wedding
Beit Herut, Israel, at the community pool. I didn't swim there as an adult, but during a 2015 visit with Pat, remembered an experience I had at 15, when I swam in that pool all summer while staying with my second cousins: One evening the pool was transformed by a small sailboat filled with flowers, floating in its middle as part of a local family's wedding celebration. My same-aged cousin Nitza and I sat in the adjacent park when it grew dark while bats flew and swooped just above our heads it seemed. I was afraid and Nitza wasn't.
Color
Tel Aviv, Israel, at the beach in front of the Hilton. Each morning of our stay, I took a dip not so much for exercise, but to feel the warmth of the water under the early sun and to smile at the bright yellow, little fish that swam under me. That beach was supposed to be where most of the gay men hung out in Tel Aviv, but during these early-morning swims, I was surrounded by what appeared to be heterosexual couples who were nearly octogenerians.
Skyscraper
Shanghai, China, at the Ritz-Carlton. I wasn't as intrepid in 2016 as prior (see "Solitude" above), and so I couldn't immerse myself any deeper than waist-level due to the cold temperature of the water. In 2005, the water was even colder, yet I managed to swim in it for 30 minutes. This time, my swim cap was unnecessary, as I paced half a length and back on foot, looking out the window at eye-level with higher floors of the other skyscrapers around us. I avoided eye-contact with the other swimmers, a couple of whom I recognized from our tour, and then sheepishly climbed out.
Club
Tenakill Swim Club, Tenafly, New Jersey. Joined my cousins Carol and Alex, her where-did-the-time-go-mature son, for a partly-sunny conversation on classic pool-side lounges, and then for a dip with Alex. I felt immersed not only in the cool pool, but in a community that represented generations of club members. For that afternoon, Pat & I, too, were in the club.
Oasis
Santa Fe, New Mexico at the Genoveva Chavez Community Center. More lap-lanes were available than in any other pool I'd ever seen. This indoor pool seemed double or triple the Olympic-sized pool, where we swam in Reykjavik. A ~12-foot-high digital clock on the wall made it easy for me to clock 30 minutes. Walking back to my rental car after a welcome, needle-spray shower, the enormous pool was visible to my right, and a regulation-size ice skating rink to my left. I swam in the pool three luscious times.
Added on 4 May 2019 
Welcome
Memphis, Tennessee, at the Memphis Jewish Community Center. A trip to the land of R&B and horses and mega-synagogues after Chanukah in 2018 included daily dunks in the welcoming, gentle, giant, indoor pool of the local JCC. Pat & I talked and trod water for 30 minutes each time, then lay on our backs and let go luxuriantly, letting the water cradle us. At Temple Israel on Friday night, we introduced ourselves and sat next to a kind woman we had seen at the pool.
Added on 7 July 2019
Genius
Cambridge, Massachusetts, at the Hyatt Cambridge. Who's swimming with me in my sunlit lane? A prospective MIT professor and her husband? Visiting researchers? Certainly, I'm in the right 'hood for such swimming companions. These 75 feet of salty water are my reward for catching a 6:22 am train out of Newark Penn Station. It's my pleasure, doing the backstroke with one eye shut behind my dark goggles against the sun blazing past the retracted roof.
Added on 21 August 2021
Splendor
Memphis Tennessee, in our backyard. COVID-19 was raging and we thought we might never swim again if we didn't buy a house with a pool so last July, we did. Nearly every summer evening, Pat & I glide down the clean, wide steps and into gently rippling deep end, where we chat while treading water for 30-50 minutes. The water and we lap luxuriantly.
Added on 12 June 2023
Goudanator
Somewhere in the Southern Caribbean in April, 2022. We shared the ship's pool in the early mornings and watched the crews clean it nightly after sunscreened party animals crammed it from mid morning till sunset. Time spent there shed the ounces earned by eating gouda and more gouda at each Dutch-influenced country, where we docked.
Wetsuitable
Tel Aviv, Israel, Hilton Hotel. Just like in 2015, the pool would have been more immersible if I had had a wetsuit to wear. My ears stung when I submerged in the water, and that's how I knew it was warm enough only for treading water. And this time, I dipped only my toes in the Mediterranean Sea some hundreds of feet away.
Last Resort
Eilat, Israel, Dan Eilat Hotel. I was the only non-Israeli swimmer in the pool, it seemed, since COVID-19 had slashed tourism in June, 2022. There were, however, plenty of Israelis to zigzag around. What a lovely view of the Red Sea into which I also dipped only my toes.
Treat
Snow Lake, Mississippi. Jumped off a dock and back into a happier version of my childhood (see "Mud" and "Frustration" above). "Here's to new beginnings!" Keegon, my friend and fellow-writers'-retreat-comrade, called out as we held hands and launched ourselves. What a treat to bob with other writers, including Rebecca, Sharon, Alice, Sheri, and Elizabeth, and the baby turtle that peaked at us periodically. I also skimmed the surface both as a brand-new paddle boarder and pontoon passenger thanks to our hosts, Tracey, another writer, and her lovely husband Brian.
Added on 21 July 2025 
Genug/Enough
Berlin, Germany, Ritz-Carlton Hotel in June, 2025. Windowless and demanding with the push-button current that I could flip on and off more easily than I could my emotions at being in a Holocaust-memorial-filled city, and where I swam before our private dinner at the Reichstag with other American Friends of Hebrew University.

Sunday, April 10, 2005

B.I.H.S.' International Festival

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 10 April 2005, at 6:10 pm, and posted here on 24 May 2007:

My sister Kathy, I've mentioned here before, is the principal of Brooklyn International High School, which is made up of new immigrants and refugees from many different countries. Every year, they have an international festival, which is basically a talent show, where the students get to show off the culture of their native land or demonstrate how swiftly they've assimilated into American culture, or some combo of both.

I skipped synagogue on Friday night to go, and Pat was sick, so I went on my own.

Here's what was worth the price of admission:

It begins with an international fashion show, where the female students dress in the fashions of their native countries and walk onstage to pop music and a peer emcee's announcements: "Here's Miss Russia, and Miss Vietnam, and Miss Morocco, and Miss China...and Miss...and Miss...and lucky Miss Argentina, with Mr. Ecuador and Mr. China:

Miss Argentina, in a bright, red, satin gown, is rolled onstage in her wheelchair, all smiles, beautiful and apparently completely paralyzed; Mr. Ecuador and Mr. China lift her to a standing position from her wheelchair, so she can preen like the other girls, and her smile's blinding, and she is placed back in the chair gracefully by the boys and rolled over to where the girls of the other countries are standing proudly.

I burst into tears in the dark. It's just what the world ought to be like all the time.

Monday, April 4, 2005

Rome and Religion Reflections

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 4 April 2005, at 6:37 pm, and posted here on 24 May 2007:

With the pope's passing this weekend, I'm thinking of the trip I made to Rome in late-January and about religion altogether. I was in Rome on business, but had two days ahead of my meeting to tour around the city with colleagues.

The Vatican

The Saturday we arrive, I am so happy to be somewhere western again, as we are coming from Bangkok and cool as Bangkok is as a cultural experience, it is easier to be somewhere relatively familiar after a week of being somewhere so unfamiliar. And one of my colleagues is Italian-American and seems now to be in paradise.

We check into the hotel and eat our complimentary breakfast there; I am thrilled for the great cheeses and blood-oranges, neither of which are readily available in Bangkok.

My colleagues want to go straight to the Vatican, which we do, by 8:30 am. At the admissions booth, one of my Catholic colleagues says, "I think all Catholics should get in for free."

"I think all non-Christians should get in free," I respond, smiling.

"Good point," he says, smiling, too, realizing that I am talking in terms of a recruitment tactic.

We walk around and it is remarkable to see all of the famous modern artists the collection includes and the Sistine Chapel and all of the ornate murals along the way and I tell my colleague, I do believe that Jesus is an agent for good and that he was an amazing person, but I just can't get to the Divine part. I'm fairly sure I could have had I been raised to do so, since I tend to believe Jewish doctrine that doesn't necessarily make logical sense.

He looks at me, smiling ruefully, wishing I could understand what he understands, and we keep walking and I feel I am there for a foreign cultural ride. We see preserved popes from the past, lying in St. Peter's and it is unusual to me, but again, I realize it is just what a different culture and religion values.

I look around at St. Peter's grandeur, the church's giant majesty, and say to another Catholic colleague, "How can anyone see this and challenge the supremacy of Catholicism? Do you think this was built to glorify God, or to demonstrate the might of the Catholic Church or...?"

"Yes," he answers. And then, "Think of the ancient Temple in Jerusalem. Probably, it was also built for both reasons." I agree.

When we walk through the part of the Vatican Museum that exhibits all of the jeweled ritual items, I recall a Temple in Bangkok from the week before, which is likewise full of treasures. Every culture has its place for gems, it seems.

Julia

On Sunday, my two Catholic colleagues opt to go to Mass in St. Peter's Square and invite me to join them, but I prefer to spend the day with Julia, an EAGLE - Italy member.

We have a breakfast-picnic on a hilltop next to the Finnish Embassy and tell mini versions of our coming-out-stories, complete strangers that we are. It's the most at-home I have felt in 10 days. Julia is half-German, half-Italian and my heritage is Russian and I'm American, but our lesbianism gives us remarkable common ground...and our common knowledge of English, luckily for me.

Julia is generous and drives us all over Rome and particularly to where I want to go, which is especially to the Jewish Ghetto section.

There are posters pasted to walls there in Italian and Hebrew, advertising, Il giorno della memoria/Yom Hazikaron/Day of Remembrance on 27 January, which is the 50th anniversary of the liberation of Auschwitz, if I'm remembering correctly.

We enter the large synagogue and there will be a tour shortly. Meanwhile, there's a small museum, where we can see ritual items and it's a contrast to the Buddhist temple and the Vatican Museum; I'm whispering animatedly about the significance of each item to Julia. When I describe what Pat refers to as "the little Torahdress," I miss Pat and want her to be here with us.

We look at Torah crowns in sterling silver that are shaped like pomegranites, and with tiny bells hanging from them, and ornate Torah pointers, and utilitarian circumcision gear and castle-tower-shaped spice-boxes....And then it's time for the tour.

The tour guide is an Italian Jew and probably in her late-twenties and quite cute. I don't remember any details any longer, just the gorgeous, high-ceilinged sanctuary and the guide herself.

We take some photos in front of the synagogue, and a few other people are milling around outside it, too, and just then, a bus full of soccer players from the out-of-town professional team drives by, yelling the equivalent of "Faggots!" at all of us. At first, I'm thinking, they were yelling specifically at Julia and me, but Julia assures me that to them, everyone local is a "faggot;"it's just part of their pre-game, self-fortifying ritual.

The irony of having a gang of guys yelling this anti-gay slur at me as I stand in front of a landmark in the Ghetto, where Jews lived necessarily during the Holocaust and now a number still choose to live, does not escape me.

We head to the Jewish bookstore, where the cash register is also staffed by appealing Jewish, Italian women -- they're having a discussion about a holiday and it sounds native to them, and that's how I infer they're Jewish.

The store is a bit busy and I look around and the Italian Jewish community looks familiar, like I could be in a Jewish bookstore in New York or Chicago or Miami and the people would look similar -- except that they are more stylishly dressed than the people I've seen typically in NYC's or Chicago's or Miami's Jewish bookstores. It's not a stereotype; it's an observation: The Italians I've seen in Rome and Milan, on average, look better/more inventive in their clothing than people I've seen in the States, Jewish or otherwise.

We have lunch in a restaurant in the Ghetto and I order hot broccoli with Parmesan cheese on it. The server says it comes cold and I ask that they heat it up, or Julia does for me in Italian.

At the beginning of the day, I teach Julia an expression I think will be handy for her to know in relation to me: "high-maintenance." She doesn't get it. A few hours later, at lunch, she says, "I think I know what 'high-maintenance' means now." We laugh.

While we walk around the famous historic sites of Rome, I learn that in addition to being an IBMer, Julia's also a documentarian; she edited a film that was used for the Millennium, which tells the story of Rome's origin, including the myth of the wolf who fed the twins, as well as produced a documentary in 2001 in tribute to Piera Zanotti, an Italian lesbian pioneer.

The documentary and Julia made the rounds to all of the big GLBT film festivals in Europe and the United States: "Odio i saluti/I Hate Goodbyes."

Julia burns a DVD of it for me and graciously drops it off to me during the week. I watch it and cry at parts because of the bravery that Piera and her comrades display, and feel passion as I see still photos and current film of beautiful women, and am so grateful for who I am. The film recognizes a woman who believes that she ought to be able to be identified as a lesbian publicly and not just privately, and lives her beliefs -- since the '50s. She's a role model.

World Pride==>World Peace

While we drive and walk around, Julia describes how hectic it was for her while working on the World Pride festival that was in Rome and full-time at IBM -- and how worthwhile it was.

She smiles as we look at the infrastructure improvements of the city and says, "During World Pride we used to say, 'Isn't it great how Rome has done so much work to prepare for us?' when really, the work had been done to prepare for the Millennium celebration." Julia's a hero, too, for the millennium. Piera led the way and Julia's carrying the torch now.

I'm reminded of the front-page "New York Times" article that ran last week, on the 31st of March, where there's a photo of all the major religious leaders of Jerusalem (Christianity, Islam and Judaism) coming together in an unprecedented show of inter-faith unity to protest the upcoming World Pride 2005 in Jerusalem this summer.

My rabbi, who's mentioned in the article, since she leads the world's largest Jewish GLBT congregation, says on Friday night, "I think..." -- and Pat leans over to whisper to me, "...we ought to be given the Nobel Peace Prize this year" -- "...our [GLBT] community ought to be awarded the Nobel Peace Prize for how we've brought together the world's religions," the rabbi finishes.

Silence=Deaf, and Dumb/Ignorant

I'm also reminded of how I'm at dinner again recently with an IBM friend from beyond the United States -- who I wrote about here when she surprised me by coming out to me last year, as I had no idea she was a lesbian -- and how I'm telling her about a class I've just taken from a deaf rabbinic intern at my synagogue.

I tell her how he has taught us about how Judaism treats deafness and has told us about how respectful the Bible is, but how exclusive the rabbis of the Talmudwere 1,000+ years later:

Deaf people were disqualified from fulfilling commandments, the rabbis of the Talmuddeclared, since back then, deaf people had no means of communication compared to today's technologies, so most of the rabbis thought deaf people were developmentally disabled as well, and how could someone who's developmentally disabled be expected to fulfill the commandments of Judaism?

I preface this bit of learning for my friend by saying that a number of years ago while studying Talmud in Chicago, I had learned about another group that was disqualified by the Talmudic rabbis, specifically for the commandment to blow the shofar(ram's horn) on the Jewish New Year: the "toom-toom," which was Aramaic or Talmudic Hebrew for someone who's intersex.

I remember feeling excluded, since although I'm not intersex, I'm certainly androgynous. I told my friend that toom-tooms were excluded because in Jewish law, according to the Talmud, women are excluded from blowing the shofar and since the rabbis couldn't be sure which gender was predominate among toom-tooms, better to err on the side of caution because God forbid a mostly-female person fulfilled the commandment. Mind you, I've always felt excluded as a woman by Orthodox Judaism, but that's business as usual. This seemed extra-harsh.

My friend shakes her head and starts to say, "That's why -- forget it...." She doesn't want to say, "That's why I think religion can be so harmful," since she knows that I value mine and she doesn't want to offend me, so I finish the sentence for her and she affirms that it strikes her that so much trouble has come from it historically.

The next day, I remember why I want to tell her about how infuriated I was initially about the toom-tooms, so that I can tell her about some peace I gained from a classmate in this Deafness and Judaism course.

During the Deafness and Judaism class, I say, "Great! Now I'm potentially doubly-excluded if I ever go deaf!" and I talk of how bitter I felt in Chicago when I learned about exclusion of the toom-tooms.

One of the other students, I tell her, himself apparently a transgender man says, "At least the rabbis [a thousand years ago] talked about intersex people, which is remarkable. Even today, hardly anyone wants to discuss the topic."

"So to him," I tell my friend, "Any sort of discussion is at least acknowledgment of these people's existence. How's that for a positive spin?"

She answers, "...I think neglect is much worse than having a negative attitude towards someone or towards a group, so the transguy is right on....As long as "something" is at least acknowledged in its existence, it means it's being discussed, too...which is the main thing that helps eliminate the fear that most humans have about anything "strange" they don't know. Talking about "otherness" means getting to know it and that's a very good thing, of course, because we don't fear what we know."

Amen.

Tuesday, June 22, 2004

Impressions of 2004 GLBT Pride Parade in NYC

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 22 June 2004, at 8:22 am, and posted here on 24 May 2007:

Here's what gives me hope from yesterday:

  • The dykes on bikes motorcycle delegation seem an ultimate representation of women doing what they want with their time and money, and with their loved ones and with one another
  • This morning, on my way to work, hearing Alba Ruiz(?) of NYC pop radio station 102.7FM, broadcasting her people-on-the-street interviews, asking, "What does gay pride mean to you?" with all of the answers including that it means equality and recognition of our humanity
  • Hetrick-Martin Institute's float, with all of the GLBTQI students marching/dancing happily for the day
  • My synagogue's big delegation, Congregation Beth Simchat Torah (see cbst.org for a beautiful "Prayer of Gratitude for LGBT Pride")
  • Gay and lesbian police officers and firefighters, including a recruitment truck for the NYFD
  • The Lavender Light Gospel Choir float, with its participants' loving, earnest singing
  • Various countries' floats, especially Venezuala's artful cardinal-costumed marchers and Brazil's for its sheer amount of people; reminds me of how most of us in the United States are originally from another country
  • I'm no longer 11 or 15 or 21 or 26 or 29, but rather nearly 39 and closer than I've ever been to being happy with who I am.

And yet...

I'm conservative in many ways and yet love-and-desire-driven, which is why I live my life as a lesbian, rather than living conventionally in terms of the shape of my family.

Yesterday, I saw a woman at the parade, who had written in grease-pen on her bare back, "I'm proud of my sister." She was outrageous. I think I saw her with her lesbian or bisexual sister later. Her sister looked a lot less wild....

When the Broadway version of the "Rocky Horror" float went by, I tried explaining to my friends that when people went to see the film religiously on Saturdays at midnight when I was in high school, and dressed up as their favorite characters, I stayed away. I didn't want to be part of that crowd, even as part of me was desperate to find a group of friends with whom I felt at home with my sexual orientation, even as I denied the reality of my orientation till senior year of college.

I didn't see "Rocky Horror" until a few years ago, until it was a Broadway play and I was with Pat for nearly a decade. God, what was the big deal? It was kind of fun, but also, I could have lived my whole life, never seeing it and still being fine. My favorite part of the show was the lipstick of the main character, which reminded me of the sparkly quality of bumper-cars.

Confidence with my sexuality, or really, confidence with all of who I am is my continual aspiration. Just when I think I'm all set, internalized homophobia springs forth from me into the energy in the air, even if I say nothing aloud, and then comes back into me as further potent poison.

I'm watching the parade and the boldest among the celebrants repel and compel me in parallel. I want to be good-natured and just surrender to it, but then, it occurs to me at various points, being here at this parade would make a number of G, L, B or T people homophobic, let alone non-GLBT people. And then I think I'm being a poor sport because would I be as put off if there were a greater number of scantily-clad lesbians? Is my reaction just sour grapes at having to watch so many guys, wearing nothing but pouches?

When one tries to shut people up historically and continue to oppress them and treat them as though they're not human, they can become extreme and fulfill one's expectations around their lack of humanity. Paradoxically, I think they're only further demonstrating their humanity, just under duress in some cases, and in others, independent of anyone's reaction to them.

The day started so conventionally, with a gay neighbor and a lesbian friend coming over for breakfast on our deck. It was a perfect day weather-wise and part of me wanted simply to stay on the deck, enjoying our friends and our home.

We went into the city because our gay friend loves to go every year and because our lesbian friend is from another country and had never seen an American pride celebration, and we had offered to be her hosts for her inaugural experience.

And because of "Al tifrosh min hatsibur," / "Don't isolate yourself from the community;" I'm reminded of the quote from Ethics of the Fathers that I've referred to in this database previously. And maybe in a number of years, after another series of pride festivities, I'll be able to say, "...and I'm no longer nearly 39, and happier than ever with who I am."

P.S. 7 July, 2004:

The more I reflected on my impressions over the past couple of weeks, the more I was reminded...that I need to reduce internalized homophobia through self-esteem-building activities. Being a spectator did not build self-esteem for me in the way that being among one of the parade delegations would have. Next time I participate in the GLBT Pride Parade in NYC, I hope to be in it, not watching from the side-lines.

Sunday, November 2, 2003

Impressions of David's and Gerard's Wedding

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 2 November 2003, at 3:24 pm, and posted here on 24 May 2007:

Gorgeous day for a wedding. "The Tide is High" by Blondie plays in the car from the airport. Windmill by the Lake reminds me of my 7th grade Connecticut State Science Fair project, "An Answer [to the energy crisis] is Blowing in the Wind." Thought my 7th grade dream was being realized in Canada, but the driver suggested that it was more for show than anything. I hope he's wrong.

No security on duty on the ground floor of 79 Wellington when I arrive at ~9:30 am. New York City, by contrast, is still fully paranoid.

Richard's office is art-filled and book-filled and has GLBT signage on parade. I love it. Nice of him to agree for me to use it while he's in Orlando. The sunflower painting by Richard's late partner's remarkable, beautiful.

I'm looking up at the walls when Esther appears at the doorway to make sure I'm settling in all right and to plan for our GLBT Leadership Conference women's reunion lunch. We eat at Marche, a Swiss restaurant....

During lunch, one of the women says that getting involved in the GLBT network at IBM is "...like jet-fuel for your career." She's referring to all of the neat people she's meeting since coming out and getting involved, to whom she might not otherwise have had exposure at this stage of her career.

"A lot of people don't know what they're missing," I say.

Another: "I used to be one of those people, insisting that I had more in common with straight people. I didn't realize for a long time...."

"I think we crave one another[, we need one another in a way that is perhaps less common among non-GLBT IBMers,]" I say.

We talk about how much better even our network would be if it included even more women and also more people of color. I learn that the South Asian diversity network group (DNG) is Canada's largest.

We talk about the series, "How to Be an IBM Leader" as a way to partner with other DNGs (see Reference section of the EAGLE database). It could be revived in Canada, I suggest.

One of the women has to leave early to meet with an openly gay customer and see if he's amenable to IBM's helping him with a large project. I learn later that he wants to start with perhaps commissioning an evaluation of the concept of the project and if it makes sense after the evaluation, then he'll consider spending the multi-millions.

Back at the restaurant, one of the women offers some unconventionally packaged hard candies to all of us. "What is it?" asks one of them.

The one who offers responds, smiling, "It's a clothes-remover." Everyone laughs....

I reach the wide-open courtyard approach to the ultra-ultra-modern Toronto City Hall and think of how gorgeous the day is and how auspicious for David's and Gerard's wedding, which is in 15 minutes. On my way to the entrance, I see a big, white bull-terrier, who reminds me of a bigger version of the dog Pat used to have before we got together, Megan Jonquil, may she rest in peace. Seeing the dog also seems like a good sign.

As I come to the entrance, I think to myself, if we hadn't suffered the indignity of being second-class citizens in our own country, none of us would have had this beautiful adventure.

Brad sees me enter the building and ushers me over to the area, where David and Gerard and David's mother and younger brother are being photographed, pre-wedding. It's so great to see someone I know in such a new space. Also present are Jim and Roberto, and by process of elimination, another Brad, whom I've not yet met. He's impressed when I say, "Hi, Brad," before he introduces himself. I disillusion him that it's really just by process of elimination that I know who he is.

David comes over to greet us and I'm dazzled and very moved. I touch the right side of his face with my palm and he smiles warmly -- I'd never do that in any average setting.

I know how David disdains ties and even sport-jackets/blazers; I'm floored by the transformation of David in an elegant tuxedo with patent-leather shoes. Brad starts looking at down at David's shoes and fixing his own hair in the near-mirror of them and David's a sport.

David explains that he's wearing something borrowed, something blue, something old and something new. The something borrowed is a set of Tazmanian Devil cuff-links that are Peter's; the something blue is his tie; the something old is his underwear -- which he reassures his mother is just old, not tattered; and the something new is a gold Canadian maple-leaf tie-tack from Gerard.

We all go up to the Wedding Chamber, where we need to wait for two heterosexual couples, who are ahead of David and Gerard. While we wait, we learn from David's mother that she was 22 minutes late to her wedding because her father kept taking photos of her. The minister got worried in her husband-to-be's behalf, but the soon-to-be husband, David's late father, wasn't worried at all. I realize then that I haven't seen [David's mother] since David's dad's memorial service more than a year ago.

[David's mother] shows us a charm bracelet she's wearing, which includes a heart-shaped stone that her friend found on the beach and which she was holding between her hand and her husband's at his death.

Then I think of my own father, who died 21 years ago, and of his death anniversary, which will be in two days, on November 1st. He was comatose during his final days of six months of common bile-duct cancer, so I suppose my mom or any of us could have put something in his hand and held it, but we were too in despair, since he was no longer himself at all. Well, at least something happy's happening finally around this time of year, as I'm always sad around this time of year typically.

It wasn't that way before my dad died. As a toy and game designer, he was extra-fun when it came to Halloween, helping my two older sisters and me with creating costumes, which many of us even wore to Stamford High School -- one year, he made me an S.H.S. [Stamford High School] School Spirit costume out of a floor-length sheet of silver mylar. The year he died, he made no costume and I didn't even go to school. He died the next day.

Sad that David's dad can't be here with his mom, and for David.

The service is about to begin. Roberto's operating the video camera and the rest of us from IBM sit in a row behind David's mother and brother, along with a dear friend of Gerard and David, Ken, who it turns out takes part in the service.

The judge begins in a soothing, gentle voice, welcoming everyone. He lets David and Gerard and Ken take over and add meaning prior to fulfilling his official role of marrying them.

They invite [David's mother]to say a few words, and [his brother] to read a poem, and they explain the significance of part of the flowers they're wearing on their lapels: They've got pure white freesia surrounded by rosemary, which is a common herb of the Czech Republic, where David's mother's family's from, and they are enwrapped in a thin, white, Mexican wedding-cord, which is in a figure-eight around them, to signify infinity; Gerard's family's from Mexico.

David's mother is so clearly, selflessly present and joyous for David; she says during her remarks, "A mother's fondest wish for her son is that he grow up to be happy and successful."

Their friend Ken says that prior to the wedding, he asked David and Gerard what the occasion meant to each of them and Ken wants them to tell us as well. David talks about how important it is for Gerard and him to be able to marry legally. Gerard talks about the day being the culmination of more than a decade of wishes -- on cake-candles and shooting stars -- how he always wished for nothing more than to be able to marry David.

The judge begins the official part, saying, "I was among the people, who made the decision [to agree to same-sex marriages under Ontario law] because it was just a human thing....The day of the announcement, the first people were two girls and a baby, but they were uncertain, so we sent them away. The next day, the comedian Maggie Kasella(sp?) came with her partner and since we weren't yet used to doing these, I called her the husband by mistake."

She said, "Don't worry. This is all going into my next routine."

He is not being intrusive with these anecdotes, but rather wants to help everyone see that he has had a role in David's and Gerard's wedding being possible, and that indeed, it is still new for everyone, both the couples and the officiants. Afterwards, I ask him how many same-sex marriages he's officiated at and he tells me, "About 150." Well, he is smooth and lovely for David's and Gerard's ceremony. No faux pas.

For the entire service, my throat catches and I have tears that seem to be waiting at some gate, and then they say such loving vows to each other, which they have written themselves and exchange rings, and I burst quietly into tears finally. I look to my right and all of us are crying. Everyone.

For me, it isn't just about how moving their love is -- and it is deeply moving. It is from relief at seeing two of my people being respected as a couple by the Law. I feel so hopeful. They sign the marriage license, with Mrs. Chase and Peter as witnesses, also signing, and I think of my parents and their witnesses. This is just like it was for my parents. This marriage is real.

At David's and Gerard's intimate reception in New York City this past Saturday -- which includes close family, and only a few IBMers from the early days of the GLBT Executive Task Force, all women -- David's brother Peter reads a note from a heterosexual friend of theirs who can't be there in person. She writes of how steadfast their relationship has been while all of the "straight folks" around them have fallen in and out of such crazy relationships.

It is only right, she writes, that they, who have been happy together for 16 years, are able to marry. Her note ends with, "Now that David and Gerard are married, all is right with the world."

I am honored that David has also asked me to say something at the reception in New York and here's what I say:

I love David and Gerard. I was so privileged to be able to attend their wedding ceremony in Toronto on Thursday.

Between the ceremony at the Wedding Chamber of Toronto City Hall and our dinner at the Four Seasons, colleagues of ours, Richard and Roberto, hosted a gathering in their loft.

I overheard a moment between David and his mom while we were there that I know they won’t mind my sharing. David was looking around at the lovely almond wedding cake topped with orchids and the gorgeous, pure white flowers of all sorts that Roberto had arranged around their home in honor of the occasion.

David was marveling wordlessly and his mother said, “You deserve it. You’re a good man.”

Ultimately, I flew up to Toronto for 30 hours because I had been at David’s father’s memorial service and felt that I wanted to be there as much for a happy occasion as for a sad one. I only wish that David’s father could be here physically as well as in spirit to acknowledge how wondrously grown-up and boyishly-happy David is now.

At the ceremony in Toronto, David’s mother said a few words and among them if I remember correctly, was a reference to Gerard’s quiet strength. It can be true that whenever David and I are together, it’s challenging for anyone else to get a word in edge-wise, but Gerard manages and when he does, I’m humbled because it’s never, ever just chatter.

Gerard was so beautifully-declarative when he told everyone on Thursday that the wedding was the fulfillment of more than a decade of small wishes. He said that every time he blew out candles and every time he saw a shooting star, what he wished for each time was to marry David.

David and I met through IBM nine years ago. Along with Carol Vericker, everyone agrees that David is among the original agents for all the progress we’ve made at IBM with welcoming gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender customers and employees.

What most people don’t know is that David also has impeccable taste in selecting the perfect lesbian gift. When I worked in Schaumburg, Illinois nine years ago, I took a business trip to New York City and if I remember correctly, I asked Carol ahead of my trip if there were any kindred spirits I could contact while in Manhattan.

Carol gave me David’s contact information and David agreed that he and his partner Gerard would take off an afternoon to show me around Greenwich Village. They didn’t realize what a mitzvah, what a good deed, they did; until we met, they didn’t know that I had grown up in Stamford, Connecticut and used to take the train into New York in high school and take myself to Greenwich Village because I knew that was where all the gay and lesbian people lived and I wanted to be among them, if even just for an afternoon at a time.

Unfortunately, because I was deeply closeted then, I never asked anyone to direct me anywhere, and just got off the subway in the vicinity of where, ironically, my parents and sisters had lived before they moved to the suburbs before I was born. I never did find Mecca, and so David’s and Gerard’s walking tour hit the spot.

It became time for me to head to the airport that day, but I knew I couldn’t come home empty-handed and so I asked David and Gerard to help me find a gift for Pat. We happened to be in a silly novelty store at the time. David came over and said, “How about this?” and picked up a beer or soda-can-handle that looked like the curvy blond female character from “Li’l Abner,” in a midriff and Daisy Dukes hot-pants.

Pat is a big Diet Coke fan. I looked at David and at the plastic woman he was clutching and said, “It’s perfect!” and kissed him on the cheek enthusiastically. I knew we’d be friends then. And of course, it was a hit at home.

I’m so pleased that these two, good, profound, thoughtful and playful men have joined their lives to each other’s and are generously in Pat’s and my life, too. I’m also happy to be reminded that wonderful things happen along with sad ones. Today is the 21-year death anniversary of my father and usually, for the several days that lead up to it every year, I’m quite sad and contemplative.

This year, and from now on, I will have a happy association with this time of year, too. I want to believe that both of our fathers are here in spirit, smiling.

Besides the privilege of having their friendship, I’m most grateful to David and Gerard for being role models for Pat and me. Their love for each other urges us on in ours as well. If there’s a bouquet here today, I hope to catch it.

Sunday, September 14, 2003

I'm Posting this Now Because...

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Note: Originally posted on the EAGLE online community site, behind IBM's firewall on 14 September 2003, at 8:35 pm, and posted here on 22 May 2007:

...I've come to see EAGLE as a global community/family that supports me greatly

I've been so out about my pursuit of motherhood here, and everywhere, that I feel I need to update you, providing more of the history than ever, and leading up to a resolution finally:

In August, 2001, I met with a friend and for the first time, really allowed myself to ask questions about motherhood. I didn't want to talk to my mothers or sisters because I didn't think they could be impartial about it. My friend gave me permission and encouragement to imagine myself as a mother. She listened to my questions and shared her experience of having two teenage sons, the second of whom was about to enter college.

"As much as I will feel lonely with the house being empty finally, I'm so glad to have them, even if just for vacations from now on," she said.

Two weeks later, one of her two sons, died of a heart attack while running with a dormmate during his first week of college. I attended the son's funeral on September 12th, 2001.

She has never been the same, and yet still is glad that she had her son for the 18 years she did.

From then on, I felt more compelled than ever to give birth to a child of my own. My friend was inspirational to me, even as I dreaded ever having to face the same tragedy, God forbid. She remained encouraging and sweet about my budding pursuit.

I remember reading about how parents weathered September 11th better than people without children, as they had to pull themselves together to make their kids feel safe and in the process, they felt purposeful. Oh, how I related to that. I wrote about it in this database, I think, if I remember correctly, about how I wished I had someone young of my own to help soothe at that time.

On my sister Kathy's birthday, November 29, 2001, I began taking a prenatal (folic acid) pill daily.

In December, we met with a doctor on my Aetna list, who was conveniently in New Jersey, and who said very affirmatively, "We'll get you pregnant." I was buoyant as we drove home.

After speaking with an EAGLE member, who was also trying to get pregnant through an anonymous donor, I was inspired to do what she was doing and began writing to the future baby every single night before bed, so I could chronicle for it how anticipatory its parents, Pat and me, were, and how excited we were to be welcoming him or her ultimately into our home.

In February, 2002, after a three-month waiting period of seeing if an ovarian cyst I had would disappear on its own -- it did -- I was inseminated for the first time with a dose from an anonymous donor, who was smart, healthy, and had Pat's features and heritage. Stats like that, they'll give you, without revealing any contact information.

It didn't take. Four times more and a histoselpingogram(sp?) later, I still had not conceived. Then I discovered that the doctor had never done the most basic fertility test on me and I was as traumatized as anyone would imagine, knowing that I had tried five times without ever knowing if I were even fertile.

I complained to Aetna, and then switched from that doctor to one who wasn't on the Aetna list, but who had helped my sister Kathy get pregnant. He took tests and determined that I was perfectly fertile, even in good fertility shape for my age, 37, and he was purely optimistic, like the first doctor had been, only he was with a famous, famous NYC hospital and had helped my sister, so I couldn't believe our good fortune in finally choosing to go there; you get what you pay for, I figured.

As soon as I got home, I became super-depressed, like I had hardly ever been. It was swift, that is, it didn't last long, but it was devastating; a day or so after it had passed, I realized that I was depressed at the prospect that it was finally real. Finally, a baby was in the offing and I was scared of how real it was.

The doctor's approach was to try one more time with the IUI method, and then, if that didn't work, to try up to three cycles on Clomid, a medication that causes depression and all sorts of PMS-type physical side-effects -- a much more extreme version of them. And if that didn't work, I should try IVF, where they put the embryo(s) directly into my womb through medical technology.

The regular IUI was unsuccessful, and so I went on Clomid, which really, really unnerved me because I don't really even like to take aspirin, but I reasoned, I can do this if a baby is the end-result.

I can't take a dramamine without becoming a zomby for two days, so medicine really effects me and the Clomid did as well. God bless Pat and Joseph, who probably bore the brunt of my non-stoicism. One of the months, I opted to go to London on business, rather than get inseminated, and so I had wasted a month on Clomid, and ended up taking it for four months instead of three.

The lab associated with my doctor was closed in July, the third time I wanted to have a Clomid-influenced IUI, so I opted to go to another hospital. It was the 4th of July, 2003 and I was lying in the substitute-doctor's office, but I thought it was a good sign that my friend Leslie's baby was on the wall as part of the collage of holiday cards all of these clinics post to get people excited about their possible future as parents.

Leslie's baby did not turn out to be a good sign. I turned 38 on July 13th, hopeful that I might be pregnant then, but I wasn't, for the third time on Clomid.

Meanwhile, a colleague of mine, who's older than I got pregnant and told me not to give up; "It'll happen."

The next IVF cycle, my regular doctor told me, was not till October.

Could I afford to wait till then, I asked?

A three month break would be OK, he said, although anything beyond that was probably pushing it.

I enjoyed the break. I told Pat that I needed to stop writing to the future baby and I did.

By Labor Day, at the beginning of September, I knew it was time to start gearing up again. I called the doctor and the person that pre-certifies me with my insurance and the IVF nurse, and then kept putting off calling them back when they returned my calls.

I spoke with a colleague, who told me from her own experience,"The animal urge to have a child passes. It did for me....Any time I am compulsive about something, as I became about getting pregnant, I know I have to look at it."

Both comments resonated with me. With nine heartbreaks over a year and a half, the urge was pretty much gone, and I did feel the last few times as though I were just marching along without being at all reflective.

How could I stop, though? Certainly, I needed to try the heroic measure of IVF, even though women my age have only typically a 40% chance of becoming pregnant through IVF, and even though I was alienated by what the process would require: an incredible series of tests and shots and monitorings and scientific tricks, and even though my sisters both had miscarried their first pregancies, one after the third month.

This weekend, thinking about a business trip made me stop and get serious finally. I realized that I didn't want to miss an upcoming trip to Paris in order to do the IVF. I realized that this would be only the first of untold trips and meetings I'd have to miss because of my child. I was sobered. I was ashamed, and finally, considering a number of other factors, I was resolved to stop trying to conceive, to give up my life-long expectation and two-year active dream of bearing a child.

Finally, I acknowledged that all along, I refused to consider adoption as a viable option; if I didn't give birth to him or her, I had no desire to raise him or her. It really was all about my genes going out into the world, rather than a burning need to mother just any child.

Did I really ever want to do the part that came between my giving birth and his or her being sweet to me in my old age? I always figured, I'll gain the will to become selfless in the way that parents need to be; it'll develop in me once the child's here.

Only one colleague from EAGLE, a mother herself, and otherwise, only Pat ever said to me that they worried that as active as I am with my work, I might not enjoy having to make sacrifices in my career for the child. Again, I dismissed the worry, figuring, I'll rise to the occasion.

My mother said, "Won't you always wonder if you could have had a child, if you had just tried the IVF?"

"Yes, but I'm prepared to live with that because the expense to my heart if it doesn't work again, or if I miscarried or if the child had a disability is too great. I don't know how I'd survive that."

My mother, my sisters, friends I told over the weekend, all understood my sadness and my resolve ultimately.

Tonight, I feel like I'm ready to finally grieve the loss of the nine unsuccessful attempts, since each of those times, I told myself not to despair and to keep hoping. Now, I ought to give myself permission to collapse and grieve fully, but there's no time. Monday's an all-day, off-site meeting in Armonk and Tuesday night is a panel that means a lot to me and I have to stay highly-functional for both.

Will it be that my life will be about staying functional for others who need me, even if not one single child? That's not so awful.

I need to keep applying all of the loving way I am to my relationships and my work. I've done that for 38 years, so why should I change now, just because I'm suffering a giant loss?

It's my losses that make me as loving and sensitive as I am, including the loss of my:

Father of blessed memory
Expectation of living heterosexually, once I was 21 and could no longer deny my total attractions to women
Friend Robert to AIDS
Sense of fundamental safety, since September 11th
Dream of giving birth
Continual loss through acknowledgment of the Jewish and GLBT and other lives lost in the Holocaust and other genocides....

All of these losses bring gains; I:

Became less aloof and more accessible
Found the world's most lovely person to be my partner
Gained an appreciation for my friends who remained and for others' losses of loved ones from AIDS
Now arrive at airports with plenty of time to spare, rather than running to the plane like I always used to do, and more seriously,
Gained a further appreciation of the survivors' basic and graceful humanity, including my own
Am not yet sure what I'm gaining from not giving birth, but I trust I will gain something from it -- perhaps another reminder of my humanity and an added ability to relate better to people who suffer tragedies
Pride in the resilience of people to persevere against the odds.

Accordingly, I remain hopeful that God has other plans for me and that good things will continue to happen in the world and for me, but I am sad, too, and need to let myself be sad, even as I continue to help others and myself.

Sunday, June 29, 2003

Seeds of Revolution

The postings on this site are my own and don’t necessarily represent IBM’s positions, strategies or opinions.

Remarks Delivered to the APGA (formerly known as AABGA)
Annual Conference, Boston, 29 June 2003
by Sarah Siegel, program director, GLBT Sales and Talent, IBM

Note: I delivered these remarks in 2003 and posted them here on 22 May 2007.

David and Elayna, thanks for inviting me to speak to your colleagues. Some of my favorite experiences in nature have been in public gardens and arboreta. I grew up in Stamford, Connecticut, where my mom still lives. Is anyone here from Bartlett Arboretum or the Stamford Museum and Nature Center?

I met David DeKing through Jose Ortiz of The Metropolitan Museum of Art’s Cloisters.

I’m reminded of how Jose, along with a group of his most enterprising colleagues, had been telling their management for some time that it made sense for the Museum to have a booth at the annual Gay Expo. It was an intriguing idea, but not a top priority.

And then, with its being the number one tourist destination in New York City, the Metropolitan Museum was hard-hit by September 11th.

Museum and Cloisters visits were down in 2001, way-down, since New York tourism had diminished so. The Museum was ready to experiment.

A booth full of enthusiastic gay and lesbian employees along with reps from HR smiled back at the expo attendees. They gave away family passes, sold memberships on the spot and welcomed a number of employment inquiries.

I think this is a terrific example of marketing leadership. Some organizations might think that marketing to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people is a cool concept for when times are flush, when there’s room for risk-taking, but The Metropolitan Museum of Art, including the Cloisters recognized that it was precisely at the time when it was most eager to increase visits that it needed to do something fresh and more inclusive.

I don’t know how many of you here are already fully, visibly, actively inclusive of GLBT employees, members, visitors and trustees compared with the number of you, who have considered how natural it would be to be actively welcoming to GLBT people, but who haven’t yet made the progress.

For example, I wonder how many of your membership brochures have language that is inclusive of couples and families with same-sex partners. You’d only have to switch the language, so that it reads “spouse or partner” instead of just “spouse.”

Or you could do what Bartlett Arboretum has done and simply designate a “family/household” category of membership. Just for fun, I checked the Bartlett Arboretum’s site on the web and was happy to see its inclusiveness.

When David invited me to speak, some people asked me, “But what does the American Association of Botanical Gardens and Arboreta have in common with IBM?”

One simple answer is that we are your customers and hopefully, increasingly, you are ours.

The nearly 320,000 IBMers and their families worldwide, a number of whom are gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender, or GLBT for short, are among your 60 million visitors, and with your operating budget topping 620 million dollars, I trust that an increasing share of that budget is being spent on information technology, such as, ever-more sophisticated database software; web site development and hosting; and hardware just for starters.

Certainly, I’m happy to take orders for any technology needs you might have after this session, and seriously, I do hope that all things being equal, everyone I ever talk to who needs technology services and products can feel good about choosing IBM, knowing that we’re visibly, actively welcoming of all customers, including GLBT and GLBT-friendly ones.

What else do AABGA and IBM have in common? Both are employers of all sorts of humanity. In my experience, employees who feel respected are remarkably productive and more innovative. For example, a number of GLBT IBMers, including me, prepared the proposal to senior management for launching the GLBT Sales and Talent team in 2001.

Doug Elix, who heads our Global Services business, which includes our consultants and which is the largest and most profitable division of IBM, said yes right away to becoming the senior executive sponsor for the team, including funding headcount market research and program dollars.

Doug recognized that along with Asian, Black, Hispanic and Women’s segment teams that already existed, it made sense to dedicate a full-time team to the GLBT segment, which includes members of all of the other diverse constituencies and all levels of organizations, including, increasingly, openly GLBT, and GLBT-friendly, executive technology purchase decision makers.

In 2001, it was a breakthrough idea, as we became the first technology company in the Fortune 500 to have such a team, and it happened because the culture welcomed such innovation.

My colleague Irwin Drucker, who’s in IBM Procurement and openly gay, raised his hand in 1999, even earlier, to be the program director of Gay and Lesbian Supplier Relations, which focuses on IBM spending its vendor-money with GLBT-owned businesses. Other companies have programs for women and minority-owned vendors, but IBM is the first to have one dedicated to spending money with GLBT business owners.

I love that this year’s conference-theme is “Seeds of Revolution.”

Marketing to gay, lesbian, bisexual and transgender people and their GLBT-friendly associates is not at all revolutionary. IBM, along with arboreta and botanical gardens all over the world, has always been doing so.

What is revolutionary is that IBM is acknowledging the full humanity of its GLBT and GLBT-friendly customers so visibly, by assigning full-time staff and program dollars for business development, advertising and cause-related marketing in this arena.

I want to use the rest of my time with you to describe how it made sense for IBM to support a GLBT sales focus, and to offer you customer insight from my experience over the past two years of serving the GLBT, and GLBT-friendly, market.

At the end of the session, I’ll provide a tip-sheet you can walk away with on how your organization can get started with GLBT sales and marketing.

It might surprise you to learn that IBM has had black and female employees since 1899 – 10 years before the NAACP was founded and 20 years before women got the right to vote.

Also, 11 years before the 1964 Civil Rights Act, our CEO at the time, T.J. Watson, said there would be no “separate, but equal facilities.” IBM was building a number of manufacturing plants in the South and this was also a year ahead of the Brown decision ending “separate but equal” in public education.

IBM added “sexual orientation” to its non-discrimination policy in 1984. I wonder if all of the botanical gardens and arboreta represented here, which have non-discrimination policies include “sexual orientation.”

If not, I hope you’ll be inspired to update the policy, so that gay, lesbian and bisexual employees will feel explicitly welcome in your organization. I know that as a lesbian, I feel better, knowing I am among the people who are explicitly welcome to work for IBM.

Another surprise, probably: IBM is the first company in the world to add “gender identity or expression” to its global HR policy; so far, most other companies only cover U.S. or North American employees while this policy covers all IBMers in all of the 160 countries where we operate.

It would be fully inclusive if each of your organizations who already have a non-discrimination policy were to add “gender identity or expression,” too, so that transgender and gender-variant employees feel welcome to work with you as well.

Now that you know that IBM’s heritage is an inclusive one, the ease we had in gaining support for launching the GLBT Sales and Talent team won’t prompt you to say, “IBM, really?” but rather, “IBM, of course.”

IBM has diversity task forces for eight constituencies: Asian, Black, GLBT, Hispanic, Men, Native Americans, People with Disabilities and Women.

It also has employee networking groups for each of the constituencies and probably has the world’s largest GLBT employee group, with 1,100+ members in 30 chapters worldwide.

My counterpart, Joseph Bertolotti, and I consider all of them to be among our virtual sales force and we’ve established a GLBT Sales Network accordingly, so that they can develop sales leads with us as needs arise among any of their GLBT customers or friends.

We had done some experimenting with GLBT events and advertising since 1995, but each effort was a one-shot and so while each was appreciated by the community and increased its brand loyalty to IBM, there was no sustained activity around welcoming GLBT business.

We had even assigned a third of a headcount to the gay and lesbian market from 1997-2001, which was dedicated to the market only a third of the time, so the results were good, but limited.

When Doug Elix agreed to sponsor the team, I raised my hand to be one of the members, and we did a job posting for the other peer position.

I remember wondering how many people would apply. I was shocked that close to 100 candidates emerged, which reminded me that the homophobia that has held me back most in my career is my own. Not everyone was even G, L, B or T. One of the non-GLBT candidates said simply, “It seemed like a great startup opportunity.”

My favorite part of my job has been working with non-GLBT sales colleagues to drive revenue from openly GLBT decision makers among IBM’s Fortune and Global 500 customers. We’ve driven millions and millions of dollars in GLBT-attributable revenue since our launch two years ago.

I’m going to share some of my customer experiences with you, so that you’ll have a close-up view of what has worked for me in appealing to the market, and they might inspire you to want to serve GLBT members, visitors and trustees actively, if you don’t already.

The first customer example shows how IBM’s GLBT sales focus resonates with non-GLBT, that is, GLBT-friendly customers:

I attended a dinner to benefit Equality Forum, a GLBT organization, and sitting to my right was a married couple. They wondered what IBM was doing there as a major sponsor and I wondered at their connection to the organization, since they appeared not to be G, L, B or T.

They told me that the man was the chair of the Media Arts department of a nearby university, and that a group of his students had done a GLBT photography exhibit recently and that the university was supportive of the organization, just like IBM.

I told him about my role and then he said, “I’ve been talking with one of your competitors and they haven’t been helpful. I need to outfit my computer animation lab with all new equipment and I’d rather work with a vendor who will care.”

“As a matter of fact,” I told him, “Mike Fuller, the head of the whole Education industry at IBM is here tonight and I’d love to introduce him to you.”

I asked Mike to come to the table to meet the couple and the department chairman ended up choosing IBM, and writing really gracious e-mail to me about how helpful IBM had been.

Through IBM’s support of Stonewall, a GLBT organization in the UK, we met an openly lesbian decision maker at a Global 500 firm there, which is already a big IBM customer. The account team, however, had not yet met with her.

We invited her, along with her partner and one of her GLBT-friendly colleagues and the colleague’s husband to join us at the IBM table at the Gay and Lesbian Alliance Against Defamation Media Awards dinner in New York City a few months ago.

It was a memorable evening, just as we’d hoped; the customer took photos of the celebrity award presenters and entertainers, including Nicole Kidman; Marlo Thomas; Tony Bennett and kd lang.

Her mother, who was in the hospital, healing from hip surgery, instructed her to take photos. Along with the four customers, I invited Liz Grant, an openly lesbian IBM colleague from London, who knew the customers already through Stonewall activities with them, and who would also be able to introduce them to the account team upon their return home.

Liz followed up with the customer and now, the customer’s talking with the account team about potentially helping her with a substantial consulting project.

There was the deeply closeted senior executive of a giant financial services firm, who wouldn’t return IBM’s phone calls because he didn’t see how IBM was different from its competition…until he learned of our GLBT Sales and Talent mission.

We respected that he did not want to be identified as gay, and he was willing to speak with the rep accordingly. The rep is now demonstrating IBM’s services capabilities further, now that the customer’s granting him an audience.

Perhaps my favorite recent experience involved hosting a couple at a Human Rights Campaign dinner in the Midwest. HRC is probably the biggest GLBT organization in the world.

I invited a customer from one of our Fortune 500 accounts to attend with her partner and then also invited the IBM client director of the account to join us.

The customer and I had met at a conference of GLBT employee groups sponsored by an organization called Out & Equal, and I had met her partner, an author and transgender educator, when he had come to IBM to do transgender education for our GLBT Task Force.

The customer identifies as bisexual and her fiancĂ© – that evening, I learned they’re getting married in the fall – identifies as a heterosexual transgender man. The client director and I had never met and I had no concept of the level of his GLBT-friendliness, but figured it was a good sign that he wanted to be at the dinner.

We had a wonderful evening. Serendipitously, the client director and the fiancé were both bantam, the same height, and spoke with me during the VIP reception about some of the tall women each had dated.

The customer was speaking with the ED of HRC while the men were kidding around. It was just a couple of guys, seeing eye-to-eye, and me, smiling down at them.

At the end of the evening, the client director and I debriefed and I said, “You were terrifically respectful. A number of people are confused initially by transgender people. You were great. I don’t know how many GLBT people you’ve had as friends or family in your life, but –”

“My freshman roommate was gay and my sister-in-law is, and besides, no one’s all-Democrat or all-Republican; no one’s all-male or all-female.”

“Well, I’m glad you were able to do good will, though I wonder if you think any business might come of your having met the customer.”

“She needs Computer-based Training services that could add up to tens of millions of dollars.” Jackpot!

The client director wrote a great e-mail follow-up note after the dinner to the customer’s fiancĂ©:
Thanks for helping to make the evening a very enjoyable one.
I also want to thank you for letting me spend some (OK a lot) of
the evening talking with [your fiance]. I mentioned to Sarah and your fiancé alike
that I found the experience to be very personally broadening. Your fiance
helped to clarify some points of confusion that allowed me to have
a better understanding of the GLBT landscape and issues.

I hope the flight back was uneventful and relaxing.
Thanks again.

PS Best of wishes for both your upcoming marriage and new book!

I hope that some of you here today are inspired to become more demonstrative in your inclusion and welcoming of GLBT visitors, trustees and also colleagues. It’s really so much lovelier an organization when we find our common ground and acknowledge one another’s humanity, I’ve found.

The botanical gardens and arboreta that are the most inclusive are the most prosperous in the long run, if IBM’s success is any indication.

I added a bonus image to the tip-sheet I’ll hand out to you; it’s a static version of a dynamic web ad banner that we’re hosting on planetout.com and gay.com, just for additional inspiration. Any of your organizations could do the same thing if they like fairly inexpensively.

Supported as I am in making a contribution to the business, you can imagine that I enjoy working for IBM. Finally, I’ll share another reason for liking the company that you’re most likely able to appreciate, also, which is about the property of our headquarters in Armonk, New York.

Armonk is about 20 minutes from where I grew up and so the topography’s the same. To get to the building from any of the parking lots, I need to walk along trails among boulder-laden woods.

Every time I visit headquarters, I feel like a happy kid. It’s like being back at the Stamford Museum & Nature Center or the adjacent Arboretum. I enter the building for a series of grown-up meetings and then return to the nicest part of my childhood as I walk back to my car in the lot. I’ve been struck by this and couldn’t imagine a more appreciative audience with which to share it.

I guess what we have in common, ultimately, is our humanity.