Taming of the Misconstrued

It was really hard for me to decide whether to write about an experience I had this week or not. But I think it’s important enough that I need to discuss it even if I don’t get into the specifics of the entire situation. As most people who keep up with my blog or follow me on Twitter know, I grew up in a rather sheltered and very controlled Christian environment. That’s putting it mildly, but this type of environment is where if you dissent on certain issues that go against the status quo, there will be a lot of backlash and silencing.

Unfortunately for me, I happen to also be gay, which makes for a very difficult life since I’ve been more honest about who I am and have now formed my own beliefs and opinions. I have mostly remained silent about any disagreements I have with my family and church until the past year when I started this blog. Even then, the blog has largely remained private and has only been shared with close friends and on Twitter for a few months.

I do have one family member who I can talk to more openly about certain issues and this person asked me this week what my thoughts were on the controversial anti-LGBT legislation that was passed in NC this past month. Optimistic that perhaps this would be a good discussion about trans issues and how people should be treated with dignity and respect, I engaged in what I thought would be a respectful dialogue with someone I trusted. Of course, halfway through the conversation, it took an unexpected and disappointing turn, as I realized this family member was not asking my opinion to have a discussion about it, but to argue that they were right.

The rest of the conversation was used as a string of arguments hurled at me for why all LGBT folks are in rebellion against God lumping homosexuality with trans issues in the process. The arrogance and ignorance shouldn’t have surprised me but it did. So much so, that I decided to come out of the closet to this family member in the middle of defending LGBT people as deserving of dignity and respect. It was a really painful conversation. I was told that I could “overcome” being gay, and that being gay was a choice and sin even to struggle with same-sex attractions.

Two days later, and I am still rattled by this conversation even though I’ve obviously heard various family members go on and on about LGBT people. This was a first time it had been directed at me so viciously. To add insult to injury, I was told by this person that they still loved me and that they were just showing “tough love.”

It’s difficult to hear something so off base and so unloving from someone who claims they love you. It’s even more difficult, when that person honestly believes they are doing the right thing by shaming someone else. I was shamed because of who I am–someone who is different from them–without first being listened to. Instead this person was listening to respond and listening simply to prove they were right. Where was the love in this? I do not understand how that is at all loving or kind or patient.

So, to family members of people who choose to come out to you, here are some things you should know:

1. This person trusts you and is being incredibly vulnerable with you in this moment. Do not fail them by shoving Bible passages down their throat.
2. In this moment, what this person needs from you is not judgment or all your carefully, strongly worded arguments about how wrong they are as a person. They need your compassion and your support.
3. Supporting your family member who has come out of the closet does NOT mean you have to support how they’re living their life, but it does mean you should support them as a person who has value and deserves your respect as a human being.
4. Do not pretend to know all the issues an LGBT person is facing or that you understand what they’re going through.
5. LISTEN to them. Really listen to them and give them a safe space to be themselves.
6. Do not equate someone’s sexual orientation with lust. Being attracted to someone is not objectifying that person.
7. LOVE. Just love. Not “tough love,” or giving all the “right” arguments, but love like Jesus loved.

If you’re not sure what love is, you might want to reexamine I Corinthians 13 which has a heck of a lot more to do with loving people in general than it does with romantic love.

Love is patient and kind. Love does not envy or boast; it is not arrogant or rude. It does not insist on its own way. Love before you judge someone. Listen with empathy before you pretend you understand what someone else is going through. Not everything is black and white and clear cut. Sometimes, issues are really complex, and you don’t have all the answers. I don’t either. So, let’s try to be a little kinder to each other and a little more compassionate.

This post may be all over the place and more of an organized rant, but I realize this is a conversation that has been going on for a while now about what privilege and racism mean. Especially in light of the Black Lives Matter movement and the legalization of same-sex marriage, there seems to be a growing number of people upset about a thing called privilege. And these people seem to be upset that minority groups–whether they are racial minorities or sexual minorities–are getting more attention or as it has been put to me recently, are being “catered to.”

I cannot speak fully to all the issues involved in this, but as a sexual minority, I can understand several issues from experience as someone who is gay and a woman, so I’m going to try to explain what privilege is as best I can understand it. And from that standpoint, I can say this:

We are not asking for “special treatment,” or to be “catered to.” People of color are not asking for this, but for fair and equal treatment as human beings. Because if you’re not a person of color, you do not understand this. This is privilege. I am not a person of color and have not experienced racism. This is privilege. I realize that racism and homophobia are NOT the same thing, and I am not wanting to make them comparable issues. Yet, there seem to be similarities when it comes to treatment of racial or sexual minorities–especially people of color who are LGBT.

If talking about #BlackLivesMatter somehow takes the attention away from the majority for a little bit, somehow that is offensive. Heaven forbid others should be treated like some have been treated their whole life. If you haven’t even had to think about whether it would be difficult for you to get a job because of your ethnicity, sexual orientation, or gender identity, this is privilege. If you’re getting upset reading this because it makes you uncomfortable, that just might be privilege too. This is not an argument; this is a discussion that needs to be had.

Just because someone says you are privileged, doesn’t mean they are saying you didn’t work hard to get where you are, or that you have never and can never experience poverty. But it does mean, the world is at your fingertips.

Privilege is the world being accessible to you without you ever having to think about it.

Privilege is not having to think about whether it will be difficult to obtain housing.

Privilege is not having to think about whether it would be difficult or even unsafe to use the bathroom for the gender you identify with.

If you didn’t have to think about whether walking to your car at night by yourself would be potentially dangerous, this is privilege.

Privilege is not being aware of what privilege was until the #BlackLivesMatter movement.

Privilege is NOT racism.

It is not men-hating.

It’s not having to deal with racism because of the color of your skin.

It’s not having to deal with sexism at work.

Privilege is feeling guilty or hating me for saying what I’m saying right now.

But, “checking your privilege,” should go beyond guilt or being offended. It should mean being aware of how many people don’t have the same privileges or rights you do, and helping them get there. It means listening to others who are not like you. It means not speaking about us but to us. It means not speaking for us or over us, but letting us speak and be heard. It takes patience and realizing you won’t always get it right, but making sure you do the next time around. And it means not expecting someone to apologize because you feel uncomfortable.

Election years are always stressful and infuriating. This one in particular is especially infuriating because of certain presidential candidates. Apparently, “free speech” and first amendment rights equal being able to say what you want without consequences and without people saying they disagree with you. And, it silences other voices and often minority voices that need to be heard and lives that need to be valued.

If you’re straight and particularly a straight, white, cisgender male, you may not understand why I’m upset. And, you will never fully understand, because you’re not in my shoes. Yet, this is not an excuse for ignorance. This is an opportunity for you to learn, to listen, to empathize at some level. I feel far too many “allies” stop at the sympathy level when it comes to supporting racial or sexual minorities.

You might feel sorry–you might feel sad. But you are often not willing to take your support further. You don’t want to have a meaningful, engaging conversation or walk side by side with people who are not like you. It’s time for that to change.

Dear person who made another homophobic joke,

I get it. Being politically correct is hard work, and it feels like your language is being policed constantly. You want to have the freedom of expression. But the problem is that you don’t want to deal with the repercussions when you’re called out for saying something that’s offensive to someone else.

I’m trying to understand where you’re coming from. I’m trying to see the world through your eyes–to see what prevails upon you to make the joke you just made about someone whose struggles and experiences you can’t even begin to understand.

But honestly, it’s not funny anymore.

What IS funny is how you want to have the freedom to say what you want, but I don’t have that same freedom without backlash.

What’s funny is that you don’t want to be politically correct, because you don’t want to feel responsible for the hurt you cause with your words.

What’s funny is that you claim to follow a God of love, but you do not love.

You preach grace, but you are not gracious. You preach kindness, but you are not kind.

What’s funny is that I used to laugh with you even though I was the brunt of your jokes. You didn’t know that. I’m not so convinced you would stop, even if you did know. And, it’s not funny. It’s not even close.

If I screamed out in pain every time you said something hurtful, would you get the message?

Words matter. Words have weight to them. Words can heal or they can hurt. They can pierce through someone’s heart like a dagger. Just because there’s no visible evidence like you’d see if someone is physically hurt, doesn’t mean it hurts any less.

Next time you make a joke at my expense, I may not sit there silently uncomfortable so that you can enjoy the privilege that you are not someone like me.

It’s been a while since I’ve written due to being physically and emotionally exhausted. I started counseling, so…yay 🙂 But, moving on to why I’m writing…

I love the work Eliel Cruz is doing in the LGBT community to make sure that people of faith are included in conversations about queer folks, as well as doing work within different faiths to make straight and/or cisgender people aware that there are LGBT people within their churches and places of worship who are just as committed to their faith. I will mostly be speaking from my experience as a Christian who has grown up under the Baptist denomination.

For me, #FaithfullyLGBT means that I shouldn’t have to choose between my faith and my sexual orientation or vice versa. I am both gay AND Christian. One does not diminish the other and both are a part of who I am as a human being. As a matter of fact, I think being gay AND Christian enhances my faith. Because I try to follow Christ’s example of loving everyone regardless of status, race, orientation, or gender, I am more aware of other groups of people around me who aren’t being treated like human beings with dignity and respect. And, as someone who is gay, I have experienced firsthand the discrimination within the church that comes with being different or “other.”

#FaithfullyLGBT is important as a social media movement because so many LGBTQI people not only deal with discrimination from others who are not queer but also discrimination within their faith communities. I am not currently out at my church or to my family because of the fear that people have when it comes to being queer. It doesn’t feel safe to be myself. Yet, I do not fully fit into the LGBT community due to Christians being a primary group that spews out homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia.

Therefore, it is important to educate those outside the LGBT community in the church, that we are people who are deserving of respect, love, representation, and dignity as human beings. Please help support this campaign by donating to and promoting #FaithfullyLGBT.

As 2015 comes to a close, and we turn the page to the new year, some things remain true no matter what happened or what will happen:

1. There is hope. Always.
2. Compassion is never wrong. (took a page from Doctor Who on that one) I learned this from the best example, Jesus Christ. God in the flesh–in our skin, knowing how evil the world is and how awful we could be–still showed compassion on us and mercy.
3. Somehow, in all this mess, everything will work out for good–because the same God who shows compassion is also in control.
4. There are people who love you and care about you.
5. Never give up. There is someone in your corner, fighting for you and with you.
6. No matter what happens, we’re all in this together.

I don’t know what this year will bring, but I know it will be a good one as long as we don’t let go of what truly matters. I don’t know what my goals for this year are yet, but I hope to continue to do good and love people like Jesus. Realizing his love truly has changed me. Seeing HOW he loved people has made me see that I can do so much more good in the world if I’m motivated by that love. Not by anger or by fear, but by love. A love that changes how we treat each other, and a love that never gives up.

P.S. One of my 2015 goals was to write more and start writing a blog consistently. so, yay for that happening. 🙂

Update: I feel that this is applicable to the Orlando Pulse Shooting if not more so. It hurts. It hurts so much that we’re experiencing this loss of life. And I shouldn’t even have to write this. I shouldn’t be sharing this again. But here I am. Fifty beautiful lives were lost who were a part of the LGBT community. 

Because I’m still too heart broken to really respond any other way to recent events happening close to home and abroad, I wrote a poem in the moments of hearing about the shooting in San Bernardino. But really, it’s something I’ve been wanting to write for a while. Also, a response to Jerry Falwell Jr’s speech recently.

a good guy with a gun

is not any better than a bad guy with a gun

we don’t even bat an eye anymore

it’s just another day in america,

where a good guy with a gun

becomes a bad guy with a gun

and they killed someone’s children, brothers, sisters, mothers, fathers.

but when it’s not our family who’s bleeding, screaming, or dying–

when we’re not the ones who are crying,

we say they just needed a good guy with a gun

to kill the bad guy with a gun

because more killing somehow makes us safe.

it hurts so much we don’t feel it anymore

we’ve become numb to the killings

and we still say to ourselves

they just needed a good guy with a gun

(Note: Accidentally saved this not on the main blog page…)

I am writing today because recently I have had to ask many hard questions about my life and faith in God.

As a sexual abuse victim, I have had to ask: “Was it my fault?” and “Why didn’t God stop this from happening?”

As a gay person who is also a Christian, I have had to ask: “Why am I like this? and “Does God really love me?”

As someone who deals with chronic pain, I ask: “Why is this happening to me?” and “How can there be this much pain?”

One thing I’ve learned through all the questions is that things are allowed to be hard. So, let them be hard. It does not do anyone any good to pretend otherwise. This life is difficult, and sometimes there are no easy answers to the questions we ask. Sometimes, we may never know the answer.

We spend so much time–especially Americans–trying to “be strong” because we think we’re not allowed to fall apart or ask for help from others when we’re struggling. Maybe that’s just me, but often I am so stubborn.

When you’re drowning in what this life has given you, grab the rope a friend throws out to you. Let people help carry your heavy loads. Don’t be stubborn like me–this is very much a work in progress in my life.

Also, learning to let God help is difficult. Believe it or not, I’ve seen that God does care. I don’t get how my suffering is a good thing, but somehow God carries me through. I’ve seen that good can come of it. I can honestly say that God has “ruined” my life in the best way possible. My faith has fallen apart too many times to count, but somehow the pieces always go back together. I follow Jesus and love him so much. I wouldn’t be able to show compassion or care without his example of loving everyone he came in contact with.

In conclusion, don’t be afraid to ask the hard questions. Feel free to fall apart. There are friends and a God that love you no matter what.

**Just an aside to the post I want to get out:

I have written a lot of things in anger. I have written when I’m at a point of breaking and having been pushed too far in silence. I am sorry if that has ever offended my audience. I always want to write from a place of love even when I’m in disagreement over certain issues.

I started this blog in the midst of all the heartache and news about the death of Leelah Alcorn, a transgender teenager who committed suicide after not being accepted for who she was by her family and church. Since then, I’ve learned a lot about myself and about the LGBT community. But in all my research and church background, I still do not understand what the big deal is against transgender people and transgender rights. What happened in Houston this week was nothing short of fear-mongering and treating people as less than human. And so, I have some theological and moral thoughts on transgender issues as a whole (in laymen’s terms more or less):

A few poems I’ve been working on…

Wrecked Soul