LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 8

Day 8: What do you think the closet or being closeted means to you?

As with most LGBTQ people, the closet represents repression, fear, discrimination, and self-loathing. It represents the need to hide or that something is inherently wrong with you.

I think that the closet and the act of having to “come out” is something that has been forced on LGBTQ people by our societies. It has been (and is) preached as “sinful” and “immoral” by the church. It doesn’t bear natural children and is therefore abnormal, anthropologically. Europe seems to have moved faster than the US, but we were founded by the prudes of Europe, so that makes sense. I can’t wait for the day that there is no longer any need for coming out or gay pride; a day when parents will ask if their child is interested in anyone and have the same reaction whether that interest is opposite or same sex.

LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 7

Day 7 - How your parents took it or how you think they might take it?

I was 24 before I came out to my mom. My dad is dead, and has been since I was 6 months old, so there was no weirdness there. But I was terrified to tell my mom. Since I can remember, the mere thought of that sent chills down my spine and accelerated my heart rate. Even just as a passing thought.

But it all really got started in May ‘10 while I was on a trip to New Orleans. We had gone down for a close friend’s little sister’s 21st birthday and were having a blast. We went to Oz, one of the best gay clubs I’ve ever been to, stayed in the French Quarter on Rue San Phillipe, and were just surrounded by general gayness. It was great. We took a a trip to see some friends in Baton Rouge, Jonathan and Corey, and that was kinda the icing on the cake. Jonathan and Corey have been together for several years now. I met Jonathan’s parents while I was down there and we had a huge family-style cook out. I had an absolute blast. I talked to both Jonathan and Corey about how they came out, how their parents reacted, etc. Jonathan told me that his parents blamed themselves for a long time, and weren’t too happy about it as they are pretty observant Catholics, but came around.

So, on the ride back to New Orleans, I was sitting in the van we’d rented while everyone else was asleep, save for my friend’s aunt’s husband, who was driving. It’s about an hour drive in the middle of the night through the the swamp and I really had some time to reflect. I thought about telling Mom and damn near had a panic attack. But I decided I had to do it. I couldn’t keep living a lie and dealing with the stress it was causing me. It was all over my face when we got to New Orleans and my friend pulled me aside to talk. I almost lost it. We talked and I set a date.: July 30, 2010. It was a Friday and I knew it wasn’t going to well, so I wanted her to have a whole weekend to kinda deal with and process it before she had to be at work. And, it only left ~ 2 weeks before I had to go back to school, so if she flipped and kicked me out, I could crash with friends until time to go back.

I wrote out everything I wanted to say and told almost everyone. I figured that way I wouldn’t lose my train of thought if she got upset, could word everything the way I wanted, and I thought if everyone knew, I couldn’t back out. So, after a painstaking 3 hour airing of 27 Dresses on FX, I told her I needed to talk to her. It was all over her face before I was done that she knew what it was about. I finished the letter and she broke down crying. I held it together and tried to talk to her until she hesitated on whether she’d rather me be dead or gay and whether or not she still loved me. I got really upset at that point and started crying.

We went to bed and she pretty much spent all day Saturday in bed and ignoring me. Sunday rolled around and it was a little better. Things eventually got a little more normal until the 2nd Tuesday after when she sat me down and said that she still loved me, but that she could never accept it. That was it.

That winter when I went, I accidentally brought it up at dinner when she mentioned reading an old journal of mine. I misinterpreted her comment and we talked a little bit about it. She said she just didn’t understand. I asked her when she decided to like men and that caught her a bit off guard. She said she never “decided,” that’s just how it was. I told her that’s exactly how it was for me. I think that kinda clicked, but wasn’t sure how much.

I think it’s been mentioned a time or two since then, but not really. I’ve only ever had 1 serious relationship, but it started the September after I came out, so I didn’t want her to think I’d been hiding it for a long time, so I didn’t tell her. It ended 7 months later, so I still never mentioned it. I figure I’ll let her in on the next one fairly early, but I’m after I’m certain it’s serious, and we’ll see how it goes. I’m fairly optimistic. As for the rest of my family, I have a couple cousins that know and while not all are approving, they all still love and care about me. My grandparents are the ones I’m worried about telling, but only will if I decide to get married. As for the rest of my family, they can accept it or not. Frankly, I don’t give a damn.

LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 6

Day 6: Did you face any problems regarding religion?

Remember what I said about touching on future topics? Yeah. But, I guess I can go into a bit more detail.

I grew up in Memphis, TN and attended a Southern Baptist church of ~30,000 members. Yeah, I was a mega-churcher. We went a really small General Baptist church when I was really little, but the church kinda started dying off, so Mom decided the big church was the place to go. I remember her acting really weird the first time we went, but she knew there would be a lot of activities for both of us, so we gave it a shot.

I remember liking it a lot as a kid, but there were some bad things going on in retrospect. I remember my (now) ex-step-sister saying that the other kids didn't like her because of the school she went to. I thought it was just her being awkward, but as I got older, I noticed it myself. By 7th grade, people I had been friends with since I was 5 wouldn't talk to me. Add that to the fact that I was realizing that I was gay and crushing on other boys and the Sunday school teachers constantly talking about how sex in general was wrong, let alone gay things, and I was a powder keg waiting to go off.

From 12-16, I was institutionalized and attempted suicide 3 times. It was a really dark time. I tried "recommitting to Jesus" more times than I can count. I thought, "maybe I'm not saved," and went through that again. But it wasn't working. No matter how much I prayed, I still was attracted to other men. I tried so hard not to be, but that's just not something you can change.

Around junior year of high school, I read an article about a girl who was Pagan and it sparked my interest. I had always been fascinated by the mythology of ancient cultures and magickal practices, so I began to read everything I could get my hands on. I was hooked. I began reading about all kids of different religions that fell under the Pagan umbrella, finding many weren't for me in the long run. But I am truly happy now, in a religion that accepts people for who they are and doesn't ask you to change something at the core of your being. Not that there aren't close-minded people in the community, but they are few and far between.

LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 5

Day 5 - Thoughts regarding inner turmoil about your sexuality; Did you have any? Did it escalate to self-injury or suicidal thoughts?

Hahaha, did I have any turmoil? You’ve obviously never met a gay person who grew up Southern Baptist. I feel like I kinda touch on future questions in each answer, but I guess that’s the way things intertwine.

I’ve had some inkling that I was gay since 9 and known for sure since 12. For so many years, I was taught that being gay was an automatic ticket to hell. No if, ands, or buts about it. This lead to a lot of self-loathing and anger. As an adult, I always let my mom believe that all of my anger was directed at my (now) ex-step-dad for abusing me, and that was a big part of it, but I finally let her know what the root of the anger was.

I don’t think the church realizes how much real damage they are doing to children by spreading their hate. I was so angry and so sad for so long that between the ages of 12 - 16, I was hospitalized in a mental institution and attempted suicide 3 times. I thought it would be more likely for God to forgive me for ending my life than to live it and act on my “unnatural feelings.”

There’s a part of the brainwashing I experienced as a child that will never leave me. I randomly wonder if the church is right. Am I going to Hell? Is being gay a sin? But then I realize that I can’t fight how I feel. When did straight people choose to be straight? They didn’t. It’s as natural to them as being gay is to me. But, overall, I think I have matured and stabilized. I’ve accepted the fact that not everyone is going to accept me. That’s not ok, but that’s the way it is and I can only do so much to change hearts and minds.

LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 4

Day 4:The first person you came out to and that story.

Ok, so maybe this will be over-sharing because I’m gonna tell the story of the 1st 3 times I came out. They were all fairly far apart and all incredibly memorable, so I figure what the hell.

The first person I came out to was my manager at the first vet clinic I worked at. This would have been the summer of ‘04, right after I graduated high school. My boss, Amy, was a lesbian. She and her girlfriend, Lara, had been together for 5 years at that point and, as far as I can remember, were the first openly gay people I had ever met. Sure, there were a couple people in high school that everyone assumed were gay (and I often knew because of connections), but that was it. Amy lived her life out and proud. She didn’t pretend to be some femme she wasn’t and talked about Lara like it was no big deal. It floored me. The mere thought that anyone else would know that I was gay made me want to vomit, let alone not caring.

Anyway, so one Saturday afternoon when the clinic was closed and we were there for caretaking, I was carrying a small dog in from one of the outdoor yards, with its sibling in tow and 125 lbs. Doberman Pinscher lunged at the door to the run it was in and the dog in my arms flipped out. My left pinky was in throbbing insanely and as I looked, my nail was split in half lengthwise. I got the dog back in its run and went to find a bandage. I put a bandage on my finger in the treatment area and turned around to see blood all over the floor. Keep in mind, this was a 5000 sq. ft. facility and I had just traipsed all the way across it. I was feeling a little flush and I noticed my neck felt weird. I reached up and I was covered in blood. My hand was hurting so badly, I didn’t realize the dog had also ripped open my neck. Not too deep, but wounds about the shoulders tend to bleed like a bitch. About that time, my manager comes rushing out of the kennel, having seen all the blood, and rushes me to the minor med.

She kept asking me if I was ok, trying to keep me talking. We got to the minor med and several co-workers were there waiting. Apparently this wound looked horrible. They later said the only reason we didn’t go to the human ER was because it was so far away. They were really freaked out. At some point, I started asking Amy questions about life and other stuff, I guess I was a bit freaked out myself. And I blurted out, “I think I’m gay.” She gave me a hug and we just talked. She told me that I would go off to college, come out, and be happy. I told her, “fat chance.” But Amy was right, as she was on so many things. I wish I could find her and tell her how much she changed my life. She impacted me more than she could possibly ever know.

Ok, the other 2 are a bit shorter and kinda funny. Now. Not at the time. But now. When I was 18, near the end of my freshman year of college at the University of Tennessee in the Spring of ‘05. At this point, I had never voiced my gayness to another soul, save Amy. And even that was an equivocation with the whole, “I think.” So, I’m sitting in my dorm room with my best friend and I couldn’t get the nerve to start the conversation. I had just found out that he was bisexual a month or so before, but that didn’t seem to make anything any easier. So, I IM’d him. He was sitting at his computer, no farther than 3 feet away. This was our conversation:

Me: “Guess what?”

Him: “What?”

Me: “Guess.”

Him: “No clue. What?”

Me: “I am.”

Him: “What?” “Like me?”

Me: “No, all the way.”

Him: “Ok.”

At that point, we began actually talking and I kinda had a freak out moment and then felt so much better. That feels like a million years ago.

The last little story is about another very close friend of mine, a straight guy, that had made jokes about me coming out for at least a couple years. This would have been the summer fo ‘06. I just couldn’t do it. Finally, one day at lunch with him and my best friend, he made the joke, I said, “Fine. I am.” Got up and walked out of the diner we were in. He chased me out into the parking lot where, yet again, I was having a minor freak out, ran up to me, and gave me the biggest hug ever. He said, “I’m sorry. And it’s ok.” And that was it. We’re still incredibly close to this day and I couldn’t love him more.

LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 3

Day 3 - How old were you when you knew? What was that like for you?

I became sexually aware, in general, at a very young age. I was “sexually explorative” by age 8. No one ever explained anything of a sexual manner to me, I just knew. My one confusion was how men and women “fit together” and where things went. I couldn’t tell you what triggered these thoughts at such a young age, but it was definitely a subject I commonly pondered pondered. At age 9, I remember wondering what would happen if 2 men loved each other and wanted to have sex. I knew that was “wrong,” but I remember that night clearly. I think that was the last time that a woman every entered my mind sexually.

By age 12, I knew I was gay. At 13, I remember asking my mom what she would do, hypothetically of course, if she a child that was gay. She told me that, depending on how old the child was, she would tell the child that they needed to leave and not come back. I’ve never forgotten that day. And growing up in a Southern Baptist household, only added to the terror I felt. It so terrified me that between the ages of 12 -16, I had been committed to a mental institution and attempted suicide 3 times. I figured that if I killed myself, God would forgive me because at least I hadn’t acted on being a faggot. After the 3rd suicide attempt, I came to the conclusion that I was so beyond help and so fucked up that I couldn’t even commit suicide correctly.

I was 18 before I ever told another soul and at 25, I’m still only 90% out. Although there’s been a lot of growth and healing, I can’t help but wonder if I won’t always have thees heavy scars.

LGBTQ 30 Day Challenge: Day 2

Day 2: Did you have any experiences as a child that might have foreshadowed your sexuality?

I’m not quite sure how to answer this question. Did something happen to me that made me gay? I don’t think so. But there were things that I did when I was little that should have been red rainbow flags. I always liked to play with “girl” toys. Don’t get me wrong, I loved my G.I. Joe’s, Batman, the X-Men, and blowing stuff up, but I always wanted a couple Barbies so that they could get married and have families. I had a bunch of Cabbage Patch Dolls and always wanted more. I liked to play school and wanted an Asian boy & girl, black boy & girl, Hispanic boy & girl, blond boy & girl, redheaded boy & girl, and a brunette boy & girl. What can I say? I grew up in Memphis. :)

And in retrospect, I had crushes on guys as a kid. I remember in the 2nd grade really really really wanting to be good friends with Brandon Hodges. I also remember an older kid named Daniel Booker that I always wanted to hang out with me. He had his ear pierced and I always thought that was the coolest thing. Ahh, the 90’s.

All that said, while I’m not the most masculine of men, I’m not feminine either. I guess I’m kinda middle of the road. I can hang with the guys or chat with the girls. It really makes no difference to me. I like to build and fix things, but like fashion as well, even though I adhere to my own sense of style. I think there were a lot of internal markers, but most of the external were chocked up to the fact that I was raised around almost exclusively women and had mostly female cousins. I’ve known I was gay since I was ~12 years old, but I think I fall into a nice niche where the people who don’t care pick it up almost immediately and the people that do, don’t ever seem to notice.