“When did you know?”, “When did
you decide? “How long have you been?”
“How do you reconcile this with the Bible?” Those are just some
of the questions I’ve gotten
over the years about my coming out.
To be quite honest, I think on some level, I always knew, even if I
didn’t have a name for it, that I am attracted to other men. I can’t honestly imagine that my coming
out was a big shocker to anyone-perhaps there were some in my family who were
in some state of denial, but I think it was obvious from the start that I am,
indeed, gay.
I was asked about my coming out
experience. My experience was one
that evolved over many years.
I can think back to second grade and I remember being attracted to the
boys in my class, but not the girls.
Somehow I knew that wasn’t “normal”. The feelings progressed throughout high school and
even followed me into college. I
would say that the bulk of my coming out experience, per se, was in
college. Attending a private,
Southern-Baptist affiliated college in Kentucky may have been as much a
blessing in this regard as it was a curse. We were a small campus. Everybody knew everybody, if not by name, then likely by
sight. So, I was recognizable, and
my “difference” was probably very apparent.
Looking back to elementary
school/junior high and high school, there was a certain amount of
suppression…this “secret” can’t get out.
As kids are, teasing and taunting, name-calling, slurs were,
unfortunately, all too common.
I was called “Faggot” and “Sissy” more times than I can count. It just
became a part of my daily life, my silent journey. I knew beyond the shadow of any doubt that I was
attracted to guys. I spent
so much time in prayer in high school trying to understand “why?” I am a Christian, after all…why
me? I wouldn’t dare act on these
thoughts…
There was one time, in particular,
the second semester of my freshman year of college, I was so deeply depressed
that I remember writing in my journal about ending my life. I wanted to drive
off a cliff. I recall it as though
it were yesterday, so vivid, so raw, so painful. I shed so many tears coming out.
I think the turn to my acceptance
point began in late 1994 when I met the man who was to become my best friend
for life. Lee is
heterosexual, but was immediately accepting when I told him that I am gay. Throughout the last 18+ years, Lee has
been my rock, and has been there through every stage of my coming out. He and I became roommates. It wasn’t easy for him. He got harassed a lot, dealt with
rumors that we were “together”, but through it all, stuck beside me like a
brother. He’s the first one I
called immediately after I finished my conversation with my mother to let him
know everything was ok. He has never
wavered in his love or support.
In
spring of 1995, I was shocked to learn that a long-time friend I knew from
college is gay, just a few days shy of his graduation. I’d never
suspected him. He, too, was like a brother to me. James and I immediately became support systems for one
another. It was with him, in the
fall of 1995 that I experienced my first gay bar. It was at The Carousel II in Knoxville, TN. I had never in all my life seen
anything like it. All kinds of
guys were there-twinks, frat boys, regular guys…and even guys who looked like
they could be heavy machine operators or plumbers—they are gay? Yes, indeed, keller, yes, indeed. There was
dancing, this fascinating show upstairs, as I recall, called a “drag
show”. Interesting.
With the veil being lifted from my
eyes, I began reading, studying, learning, and gradually began to accept myself
as God had created me. In January
1996, I received a harassing phone call from the college track team, teasing
me, taunting me, and I knew, at that moment, a straw broke, it was time to stop
hiding. With most of my close
college friends already knowing, it was time to tell my parents. I purchased a
copy of Shel Silverstein’s “The Giving Tree” and wrote a personal letter in the
back of the book, thanking my parents for everything they had ever done for me
and mailed it to them. A couple of
weeks later, I went home for the weekend, had a home-cooked dinner with my
parents, and retreated to my room.
My mother came in that Saturday evening and asked if I was going to
watch a movie with them. I said
“No. I need to talk to you.” She
entered my room and I began sobbing immediately. She asked me to stop crying and tell her what was
wrong. So, I stopped long
enough to utter the words “Mom, I’m gay.” Her response was simple. “I don’t have a problem with that.” What followed was about
two and a half hours of gut-wrenching conversation and acceptance. She indicated that she would take care
of telling my father for me, and that we would take the rest of the family as
necessary.
My father and I had a discussion
about my sexual orientation when I went home for the weekend of Easter,
1996. It was a short
conversation, but he affirmed to me that while he didn’t agree with it, that I
was his son, and he loved me.
As the semester progressed, I
began going to Knoxville on some Thursday nights to a club at an old church-turned
night club “The Closet at The Lord Lindsay” with my other gay friends from
college…seems we had all been living with a secret…and we all came out about
the same time. I didn’t drink, but I did stay out too late, usually sleeping on
the floor of one of my college friends who had an apartment in Knoxville. The
hour drive from Knoxville back to campus early in the morning was not good for
me and my 9:00 Music Theory class, either. It also didn’t bode well for my vocal performances, either,
as I was forgetting lyrics in my Friday departmental performances. All in all, academically, the semester
was not stellar for me, but personally, I learned more about myself than I
could have possibly learned in a classroom.
The day after I came out to my
mother was my very last Sunday to attend church at my “home” church, the small Baptist
church I attended from high school all the way through college. I could no longer see myself as a
Baptist. It was February 11, 1996. I sang a solo that morning. I sang “The Anchor Holds”. To me, it was a fitting way to
end my time with the church, although, unbeknownst to anyone there, it would be
my last time there.
The next
Sunday I would attend Church Street United Methodist Church in Knoxville, which
was a magnificent experience.
The choir’s opening a cappella antiphon John Thompson’s “The Best of
Rooms” permeated the Gothic-style sanctuary, then the powerful sound of the
Aeolian-Skinner Pipe Organ accompanying the congregation was an incredibly spiritual
moment. It was as though God
reached down, touched me on the shoulder and whispered in my ear “This is exactly where I want you to be.” I felt like I was truly,
possibly, for the first time, in the grip of Grace.
Later that summer, I would join
the United Methodist church. I decided to take a semester off from school to get myself together and
focused. During my semester
sabbatical, I took some time to work. On the morning of my parents’ 25th wedding
anniversary, I dropped off a letter and a book to my grandmother. It was a letter I had carefully crafted
for a number of months, coming out to her. I included the book by Rev. Mel White “Stranger at the
Gate” for her to read. She
was devastated by my news.
Ours was a close relationship, and would be rocky for final 3.5 years of
her life. By the end, she
had accepted it, as best she could.
I often wonder how differently things would be had she not died.
Other members of the family found
out at different intervals, with the news being imparted by other members of
the family on my behalf.
Oddly, the members of my father’s side of the family took the news a lot
better than my mother’s side of the family. I never expected that. Generally, everyone with the
exception of an Aunt on my mother’s side of the family and my grandmother
everyone was basically “so what…you’re still the same person and we love you.”
Here’s my confession: I have never wanted being gay to define
me, but at the same time I can’t deny that it is a huge part of who I am. “How did you know you are gay?” I’m
sometimes asked. “The same way you
knew you weren’t. It’s a gut
feeling, it can’t be explained.” I
don’t strive to flaunt my sexuality, rub it in anyone’s face or expect any
special treatment. All I
want is to be treated like a human being. My coming out process was a long and arduous road.
While it was one of the most difficult things I have ever done, I am glad that
I did, because living a truth is much easier than living a lie or hiding who
you are. While it could have cost me everything,
it was a gamble I was willing to take.
Coming out, I’ve often said, is the greatest act of love I’ve ever
done…for myself and for those who love me. I say that because if all my friends and family know
of me is a farce, then what is the use?
Living my authentic life is a far nobler calling, and I’m glad I had the
courage to answer.
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