End of a Youth Group

This evening I went to a somewhat awkward event. It had nothing to do with the holidays, and it wasn't particularly joyous. It was the final meeting of the local lesbian/gay/bi/trans/whatever youth group.

The group was founded nearly 20 years ago, and I got involved shortly thereafter. I was on the upper end of the group's target age, but I was very newly out. I guess the facilitator felt I was a good contributor to discussions, because Mike asked me to stick around as an assistant facilitator when I got "too old". Later he had to drop out of doing the weekly meetings, and became just the administrator for the group, mostly applying for grant money when we needed it. I was the main facilitator (with help for a while from a supportive straight woman), took over the phone line, and became the local gay community's de facto youth advocate.

Running the group meetings was simultaneously a huge source of satisfaction and a huge burden. I'd usually walk away from them feeling good, but the preparation - both in terms of planning, and psyching myself up for it - was stressful. I'm not an outgoing person, and I'm awkward in conversation. I'm the kind of person who tries hard not to be the center of attention. But facilitating a meeting of this kind requires doing exactly that, whether it's engaging the interest of disaffected teens and young twenties in the evening's activity or discussion, or maintaining a semblance of order when their hyperactive attention deficit kicks in. I made a much better sidekick than leader.

The youth group meant a lot to me. During those days I was one of the youngest people involved in the "grown up" gay activist community here in town, and I'd also "grown up" in the youth group. I was doing a lot in those days, but "gay youth" was my thing. Not in the predatory ephebophilic sexual sense (I was perhaps overly cautious about that), but as a focus for my community activities. Outside of the youth group itself, I was involved in a statewide group working for LBGT youth services, I tried launching a post-teen group, etc. I really wanted to be good at it, to make it work. It was too important... to the young people, and to me.

But it was more than I could handle. I'd been burning the candle at several ends, and also trying to have a relationship and do a full-time-plus job, and I had to quit. I quit a lot of stuff around that time. The relationship went south (both figuratively and literally). I got fired from the job. And I pretty much dropped off the face of the earth, as far as most people could tell.

Fortunately, the original facilitator found a woman who was well suited to take over, and she did. And putting both him and me to shame, Kim stuck with it for over 11 years. But she's only human as well, and she decided recently that she had to let it go. As she talked about it tonight, I could understand all too well: It's a source of strength, but a source of stress.

Apparently neither she nor Mike could find someone to take it from here. The local gay community center (which was established after the youth group got started) is finally planning to do a program for youth, now that no one else in town will be doing it, which is encouraging. I'd hate for there to be nothing for them.

At lot has changed since the mid-1980s. "The love that dare not speak its name" has become "the love that won't shut up". There are other resources and the world in general offers more hope and inspiration for gay youth. Likewise, the group in recent years has been a bit different from when it started. Instead of most participants being closeted, most today are already out... to their families, to friends, etc. The bad news is that the group has been dealing a lot more lately with substance abuse and similar problems. My own hypothesis to explain that is that in "my" day, the folks with those problems weren't even making it to the group, and the comparatively well-adjusted youth (like me?) might not be bothering with it today.

The meeting tonight was officially a postscript for the group, the last regular meeting of which was last week. This week was for good-byes, thank-yous, and best-of-lucks. In keeping with my short tenure as facilitator, I kept my remarks to the folks there brief, thanking Mike who'd started it and Kim who'd picked it up and run with it, and telling the two dozen young women and men there to see to it that the gay community center took it from here, since they (the kids) are the experts who know how to make it work. To a large degree, they always have been; I know I was no expert.

It was nice to be invited to this terminus, to have a chance to see what had become of the group I'd once been largely in charge of. It's hard to see it end, though. When I quit, I took comfort knowing that it wasn't the end. I'd been a successful caretaker, and it would continue beyond me. This feels a bit like my legacy has been cut off.

But in talking with my colleagues this evening, reminiscing about the old days and a few of the people who'd been in the group back then, I'm reminded that some of my legacy is still out there. Last week I ran into one of the members from my "assistant facilitator" period, and he seemed to be doing well... some 15 years older than the last time I'd seen him. Not that I can take credit for his well-being in particular, but I do know (because they told me or showed me) that I made a difference in some people's lives, and that difference is still out there.

It also made a big difference in my life. It was through my involvement with the group that I met Andy, another youth advocate, who became my boyfriend. Although that relationship ended sadly (the low point of the multi-year emotional meltdown that included my quitting as facilitator), I cherish the memory of it. It made me a better person. In many ways I'm a fucked up mess of a human being. But I'd be even more fucked up if I hadn't been a member of that youth group, and if I hadn't stretched myself to co/facilitate it for a few years.

My thanks to everyone involved.