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This summer I was back in Ohio for a family wedding,
and when I was there,
there was a meet and greet with Anna and Elsa from "Frozen."
Not the Anna and Elsa from "Frozen,"
as this was not a Disney-sanctioned event.
These two entrepreneurs had a business of running princess parties.
Your kid is turning five?
They'll come sing some songs, sprinkle some fairy dust, it's great.
And they were not about to miss out on the opportunity
that was the phenomenon and that was "Frozen."
So they get hired by a local toy store,
kids come in on a Saturday morning,
buy some Disney swag, get their picture taken with the princesses,
call it a day.
It's like Santa Claus without the seasonal restrictions.
(Laughter)
And my three-and-a-half-year-old niece Samantha was in the thick of it.
She could care less that these two women were signing posters and coloring books
as Snow Queen and Princess Ana with one N to avoid copyright lawsuits.
(Laughter)
According to my niece and the 200-plus kids in the parking lot that day,
this was the Anna and Elsa from "Frozen."
It is a blazing hot Saturday morning in August in Ohio.
We get there at 10 o'clock, the scheduled start time,
and we are handed number 59.
By 11 o'clock they had called numbers 21 through 25;
this was going to be a while,
and there is no amount of free face painting or temporary tattoos
that could prevent the meltdowns that were occurring outside of the store.
(Laughter)
So, by 12:30 we get called:
"56 to 63, please."
And as we walk in, it is a scene I can only describe you
as saying it looked like Norway threw up.
(Laughter)
There were cardboard cut-out snowflakes covering the floor,
glitter on every flat surface, and icicles all over the walls.
And as we stood in line
in an attempt to give my niece a better vantage point
than the backside of the mother of number 58,
I put her up on my shoulders,
and she was instantly riveted by the sight of the princesses.
And as we moved forward, her excitement only grew,
and as we finally got to the front of the line,
and number 58 unfurled her poster to be signed by the princesses,
I could literally feel the excitement running through her body.
And let's be honest, at that point, I was pretty excited too.
(Laughter)
I mean, the Scandinavian decadence was mesmerizing.
(Laughter)
So we get to the front of the line,
and the haggard clerk turns to my niece and says,
"Hi, honey. You're next!
Do you want to get down, or you're going to stay
on your dad's shoulders for the picture?'
(Laughter)
And I was, for a lack of a better word, frozen.
(Laughter)
It's amazing that in an unexpected instant we are faced with the question,
who am I?
Am I an aunt? Or am I an advocate?
Millions of people have seen my video about how to have a hard conversation,
and there one was, right in front of me.
At the same time,
there's nothing more important to me than the kids in my life,
so I found myself in a situation that we so often find ourselves in,
torn between two things, two impossible choices.
Would I be an advocate?
Would I take my niece off my shoulders and turn to the clerk and explain to her
that I was in fact her aunt, not her father,
and that she should be more careful
and not to jump to gender conclusions based on haircuts and shoulder rides --
(Laughter) --
and while doing that,
miss out on what was, to this point, the greatest moment of my niece's life.
Or would I be an aunt?
Would I brush off that comment, take a million pictures,
and not be distracted for an instant from the pure joy of that moment,
and by doing that,
walk out with the shame that comes up for not standing up for myself,
especially in front of my niece.
Who was I?
Which one was more important? Which role was more worth it?
Was I an aunt? Or was I an advocate?
And I had a split second to decide.
We are taught right now
that we are living in a world of constant and increasing polarity.
It's so black and white, so us and them, so right and wrong.
There is no middle, there is no gray, just polarity.
Polarity is a state in which two ideas or opinions
are completely opposite from each other;
a diametrical opposition.
Which side are you on?
Are you unequivocally and without question antiwar, pro-choice, anti-death penalty,
pro-gun regulation, proponent of open borders and pro-union?
Or, are you absolutely and uncompromisingly
pro-war, pro-life, pro-death penalty,
a believer that the Second Amendment is absolute,
anti-immigrant and pro-business?
It's all or none, you're with us or against us.
That is polarity.
The problem with polarity and absolutes is that
it eliminates the individuality of our human experience
and that makes it contradictory to our human nature.
But if we are pulled in these two directions,
but it's not really where we exist --
polarity is not our actual reality --
where do we go from there?
What's at the other end of that spectrum?
I don't think it's an unattainable, harmonious utopia,
I think the opposite of polarity is duality.
Duality is a state of having two parts,
but not in diametrical opposition,
in simultaneous existence.
Don't think it's possible?
Here are the people I know:
I know Catholics who are pro-choice, and feminists who wear hijabs,
and veterans who are antiwar,
and NRA members who think I should be able to get married.
Those are the people I know, those are my friends and family,
that is the majority of our society, that is you, that is me.
(Applause)
Duality is the ability to hold both things.
But the question is: Can we own our duality?
Can we have the courage to hold both things?
I work at a restaurant in town,
I became really good friends with the busser.
I was a server and we had a great relationship,
we had a really great time together.
Her Spanish was great
because she was from Mexico.
(Laughter)
That line actually went the other way.
Her English was limited, but significantly better than my Spanish.
But we were united by our similarities,
not separated by our differences.
And we were close, even though we came from very different worlds.
She was from Mexico,
she left her family behind so she could come here
and afford them a better life back home.
She was a devout conservative Catholic,
a believer in traditional family values,
stereotypical roles of men and women,
and I was, well, me.
(Laughter)
But the things that bonded us were when she asked about my girlfriend,
or she shared pictures that she had from her family back home.
Those were the things that brought us together.
So one day, we were in the back,
scarfing down food as quickly as we could, gathered around a small table,
during a very rare lull,
and a new guy from the kitchen came over --
who happened to be her cousin --
and sat down with all the bravado and machismo
that his 20-year-old body could hold.
(Laughter)
And he said to her, [in Spanish] "Does Ash have a boyfriend?"
And she said, [in Spanish] "No, she has a girlfriend."
And he said, [in Spanish] "A girlfriend?!?"
And she set down her fork, and locked eyes with him,
and said, [in Spanish] "Yes, a girlfriend. That is all."
And his smug smile quickly dropped to one of maternal respect,
grabbed his plate, walked off, went back to work.
She never made eye contact with me.
She left, did the same thing --
it was a 10-second conversation, such a short interaction.
And on paper, she had so much more in common with him:
language, culture, history, family, her community was her lifeline here,
but her moral compass trumped all of that.
And a little bit later, they were joking around in the kitchen in Spanish,
that had nothing to do with me,
and that is duality.
She didn't have to choose some P.C. stance on gayness over her heritage.