Rylan

Rylan.

I don’t know if that’s how you spell his name.

I met Rylan in Belize. My best friend Jay and I were vacationing away from our busy lives (he works in finance in DC and I am full time employee and full time graduate student.) We were on the beautiful island of San Pedro on our second night on the island and that's when my story with Rylan starts up. It is the slow season for tourists (because it’s warm temperature in the US) so we’re in a pretty empty bar having some drinks. Jay and I are talking and Rylan walks over to talk to us. Rylan is a local Belizian who has dyed his hair blonde. It’s straight and wavy. He’s average height but very skinny. He starts asking us about where we’re from and what we do and it becomes pretty apparent that Rylan is testing the waters to see if we’re gay. I am NOT being overly sensitive or defensive, he was flirting with us. I mean I can’t really blame him, San Pedro has a population of about 7,000 people on it, most everybody knows each other and I’m sure he knows just about every gay man on the island. Two young guys vacationing together in Belize is certainly worth scoping out considering his circumstances.

Anyway Rylan is with his friend Brittany (an American living in San Pedro) who we also got to know pretty well. I could do an entire blog about her too.

We spend a lot of time with both of them as the week progresses. They are both filthy rich and very young. Rylan’s aunt is the former mayor of San Pedro and his dad owns a waterfront bar that is very popular. His entire family comes from money and from talking to him I can tell he has faced very little consequences in his life.

He drank a lot while we were there. From talking to him and Brittany it appears that it’s just what their life is. Neither of them work or go to school. The culture of the island is to party, from their own words “There’s not much else to do.” 

One day we are all eating lunch and as Rylan was placing a spoon full of beans in his mouth I notice his wrist. All up and down his left wrist are scars. Rylan has apparently been a cutter at some time in his life. Perhaps he even attempted to commit suicide, I don’t know. My heart dropped as I begin to try to understand where all that pain comes from. I begin to talk more and more to him and Brittany about what his life has been like and what his aspirations are and I settle on this fact by the end of the trip: Apart from his best friend Brittany, Rylan doesn't belong anywhere.

Let me back up by explaining to you what Rylan is surrounded by and I'll start with what I observed of the culture of Belize.. They aren’t too different from what I would experience going out in Southern California.  Most people wear shorts, t-shirts and sandals. There’s a simple and relaxed atmosphere that makes people very friendly. The common language is an English creel, which fascinated me. The most popular sport there is basketball (love) and there are pick up games at most times of the day. Most people work in some form of the tourist industry, meaning a lot of long hours and physical labor. The guys there are big. The public schools are poorly educated and most men start to work full time in their mid teens.

Rylan was put into “The Island Academy” when he was very young. This private school is where the rich Americans, Europeans, and Belizians of San Pedro send their kids. It’s a few miles south of the main part of town and the teachers there are Americans. Rylan never learned the native creel language of Belize. He said he can understand it but will never speak it. He’s never had to work and so he's spent a lot of his time in doors; his skin is just as white as mine even though he is Belizian. So here you have a rich, homosexual, local who does not speak his own country's language. If you spoke to Rylan you would think he was probably a kid from a big coastal city in the USA. So maybe he would do well in the states. But here’s the thing, we were having lunch one day and Rylan was talking about how one day he wants to move to San Fransisco. Brittany laughed and told him she doesn’t think he could ever make it in the states. In San Pedro he’s a big deal. He can do whatever he wants without facing any consequences. His laundry is done for him, his meals are provided for him, he lacks nothing. She said the simple tasks of living in a big city would be too overwhelming for him: public transportation, paying bills, abiding by laws that have consequences.

Well what about his family? Even when all else fails we can at least fall back on the safety of those relationships. Parents who raised us and nurtured us and want what is best for us. While Jay and I were there, Belize was celebrating it’s independence day. On an otherwise very fun night filled with fireworks and dancing, Rylan had way to much to drink. Brittany and I decided it would be best if we took him back to his apartment. We hopped in her golf cart (the most common form of street transportation, only taxis and government vehicles are cars) and began to drive him home. We were sitting in the back and I was holding on to him making sure he didn’t fall back off the cart. Rylan lay on my lap and clutched at my hand. I felt for the kid so much in that moment. I started praying for him. How long had he been abusing alcohol to cover up the all the pain in his life? Probably for a while. Rylan’s apartment was on the second floor of a building. To enter into it, you walk up a spiral staircase on the outside up about 12 feet and it puts you onto a balcony with no railing or fence. As I was trying to get Rylan up the stairs, he became coherent and pushed my hands away. He ran up the stairs and before I could grab him he threw himself off his balcony back onto the street. It scared the shit out of me. Brittany and I rushed to him to see if he was okay and he was somewhere in between laughing and crying. Thank God nothing appeared to be majorly injured. Brittany started yelling at him saying that she’s calling his dad and he can’t scare us like that. Rylan cracked a smile and drunkingly uttered something to the extent of “Brittany, you know my family, they don’t care about me. I could die tonight and my dad would be relieved.” My heart broke. The kid was the furthest thing from stable I could think of but there was no lie in his eyes and tone. His personality certainly didn’t scream of someone who had been fathered much either.

So here is Rylan. He doesn’t fit in with masculine male culture of the island because he’s gay. He doesn’t fit in with the common Belizians of the island because he’s rich and he doesn’t speak their language. He really doesn’t fit in with Americans either because as much as you would mistake him for one, he has never learned basic functioning, or at least enough to “survive” in a big city. I believe Brittany when she said that. By all appearances he couldn’t boil an egg. Then you have his family that has allowed this 18 year old kid to live alone in an apartment and by his own accounts, would feel relieved if he died.

And I began to think about belonging. How as humans we have an innate desire to want to be a part of something bigger than ourselves and to have that thing accept us. This ranges from family to football. We want to belong. A sense of belonging gives us something to fall back on when life is tough.  Recently I went through a really tough break up that has left me with a few nights feeling awfully lonely. Lonliness is the worst. I feel so utterly trapped in the midst of it and if I’m not careful I can go into any number of numbing mechanisms to escape that. I can drink too much, watch too much TV, become obsessive with sports, or eat myself into a food coma. I’ve tried to be as intentional as I can to not turn to those things and to allow myself to just sit in this feeling and invite God into this process instead of turning to the world’s “strength” for comfort. In the midst of the loneliness, I have sensed God’s invitation to connect with him and other men in my life. To be of more service and go to work on a lot of my character defects (I’m back in counseling). I didn’t belong to my girlfriend anymore and in that absence I have sensed God’s invitation, “come belong to me”. With that has come growing closer with my guy friends, has come growing closer with my older brother Trevor, has come being intentional about talking on the phone with my best friends in other cities. I don’t belong to Kyleigh anymore, but I have belonging.

Rylan has no belonging. He’s a burden to his family, an outcast from his society, and a stranger to America. I regretfully never spoke to him about his view of God, but I can only assume he has a very distant relationship with Him, if one at all. Of course he’s going to medicate with alcohol. Of course he’s going to dramatically cry for attention by jumping off balconies. Of course he’s going to wound himself and despise himself by cutting his wrists. He has no place to belong.

Brittany was so upset at Rylan as we were driving him back to his apartment that night. All I could do is hold this little kid and pray that God would do a miracle in His life. “You have a home Rylan. This world will never be it though. You have a Father that cares so deeply about you. God please show Yourself to Rylan. Break through the lies and hurt, and pain, and rejection and speak the truth of Your love in His heart. Don't give up kid. Stay safe. God bless him. You are a God of miracles. Show him that He belongs in you.

I don't have facebook because I realized it was another way I could escape my feeling and numb out. I say that because I couldn't "friend him" when I got home. I pray he's doing okay. That God has worked a miracle. That Rylan has found a place that he belongs.