A small price to pay

On March 8, 2007 I was forced to leave the University of Notre Dame and given official warning that if I ever returned, I would be arrested. While visiting the campus during the Equality Ride, a student asked me for more information about our events in South Bend, Indiana. I gave him a schedule--a dinner at a local church, a film screening at the LGBT Center nearby, discussions at a coffee shop--and my contact information.

Because of that, I am barred from any property owned by Notre Dame for life. And it was a small price to pay.

That student came to the church dinner, he joined us again for the film screening, and again for lunch at the coffee shop. He emailed me the day we left letting me know how grateful he was that we had come to his school. We made plans to meet up back in Los Angeles after the ride. I've gotten a few email updates and phone calls from him and at 3:02 pm today, my phone rang again.

I can hear the joy in his voice. He tells me about life at schools, new friends he's made, and achievements he's secured. Even though the ride ended months ago, I am proud to say that I am still an Equality Rider. I am glad that I can be an affirming Christian voice who truly cares about his life--his whole life--and who will be there to listen.

We only interacted for a short period of time but it is moments like this--unexpected phone calls months later--that make me understand how one person can make all of the difference.

I can never go see him be the drum major (if he gets the part), I can never cheer on USC at our biggest rival's stadium, I couldn't even stop there for a pit-stop on my trip across the country. But I would never take back my decision to hand him that piece of paper. It was a small price to pay.