Being a gay homemaker has given me the time and opportunity to peer into a lot of different worlds. A few years ago a friend asked if I would help her with a charity benefit for a non-profit children’s educational organization. I had the time, so I said, ‘œWhy not?’   Besides, I’ve been very fortunate. Wasn’t it time that I gave back?

The first committee meeting was in the loft of one of the charity’s co-chairs. The epitome of Manhattan’s socially progressive and community-minded, the hostess made me feel welcome, being the only man (and a gay one at that) among the dozen or so well-heeled thirty- and forty-something women. Most of the women in the room had children in the private schools associated with the charity, which was foreign and a little intimidating. I didn’t go to a private grade school. I didn’t even have a child. But here I was in the very thick of it.

I assumed that most of the women were there because they knew each other socially and this was just something to occupy their time, an expected activity that was just part of the price of entry into their social strata. That’s partially true. But as they spoke I was impressed by their intelligence and eloquence. More importantly, they had a genuine interest in the issue and a sincere desire to give back and contribute in a tangible way. With subsequent committee meetings and chats over coffee, my respect for them was coupled with genuine liking. What a remarkable group of women. I had gained entrée into their world in a way few men have.

What I didn’t expect was that I could relate to them on many levels. While in the most obvious way I certainly wasn’t one of them; in another way I was. Much of my life mirrored theirs. They, too, no longer worked. Many had strong professional backgrounds they had left behind but continued to carry with them. They had similar relationships with their spouses. They frequented the same stores, restaurants, and vacation destinations. Ultimately, though, these points of commonality were supplanted by a something larger: a common cause. Regardless, who they were became an important piece of the experience. The charity’s mission was something I could easily embrace, and the people made it personal. I found myself drawn in.

I worked on the event’s décor and designed the invitations. The event that spring was very successful. It felt good to have been a part of it. Later the following fall, I was surprised by a call from the woman that had hosted the first meeting I had attended. She asked if I would consider joining the Board. I was complemented, excited, and scared. On top of all those feelings I had to consider whether this was an issue to which I could commit the majority of my time and interest. Was I turning my back on the LGBT community if I focused on the larger community?

There are the issues that affect the general population, and there are the issues that are specific to the LGBT community. Being part of our smaller community, I had always supported LGBT charities: GMHC, GLAAD, The Human Rights Campaign, GLISTEN, Lambda Legal and others. In the end, I realized that I truly believed that education was key to creating tolerance. So while this particular charity wasn’t directly tied to our community, I felt it still impacted it. The people, too, were a big part of my decision. I liked my interactions with them. So, I accepted. That was three years ago.

My involvement has been very rewarding. It gives me a great sense of purpose. I have now co-chaired the annual benefit twice and serve on a number of committees. With each passing year, Jay and I become more involved. This is new territory for us. We no longer are sending in a check for $100 or $200. Instead we are making more sizeable donations. As a board member, while I am expected to contribute my own time and money, I am also expected to solicit donations from friends. Friends. That has been the tough part.

Asking for small donations or inviting friends to events is relatively easy. Initiating a more meaningful conversation has been much more difficult. I have to ask myself if my LGBT friends can also embrace this particular cause. If asked to choose, will they pick a LGBT charity over one that targets a cause that’s not as close to them? Can they see the issue in a similar manner as I do? How do children figure into their lives’”especially if they don’t have children, themselves? Do they view education in a similar context as I do? Then there’s the question about whether they are open to making significant contributions. Are they in the position to do so? Will they feel pressured? These are all questions Jay and I ask ourselves about our own involvement. Now we are asking our friends the same questions.

Given the current economic climate, the questions become even more tricky. Even if you’ve not lost your job or a lot of money in the stock market, you’re still probably tightening your financial belt. What if you’re retired and living on a fixed income? How much does that leave for charitable donations? How do you decide how much to allocate to charitable contributions, if you are giving? If you’re not giving to charities, why aren’t you? Do you not feel it’s your responsibility? It’s such a personal decision.

Websites like charitychoices.com give some basic guidelines for evaluating a particular charity and looking at various factors involved in making your decision. But I also feel friends are a helpful filter. A friend with whom you share similar social, political views can introduce you to the causes they support, and you can do the same for them. So I see giving as reciprocal, whether tacit or not. You support my causes and I’ll support yours. And a charity event is one more way of socializing, so there are some dovetailed interests. It can create new experiences and open up new worlds that can be shared with your friends. So I’ve begun to open up a dialogue with my friends. Awkward as it is sometimes, it becomes easier over time. After all, don’t we all have a responsibility to give back in some way? I believe we do.

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