I’m Devlin, but you can call me Dev. I’m a teacher and coach in Indiana, also known as the Crossroads of America. I happen to be in a mixed-orientation marriage with my wife of now four years; in other words, both she and I like guys. It’s a beautifully complicated narrative God is writing!
Growing up, I was a big Harry Potter fan. As I got older, I turned into “that kid” — the one who tried to get the books as soon after release as possible; the one who had to try really hard not to spoil the endings for people who hadn’t read them yet; the one who saw every midnight premiere that my age would allow.
Eventually, I realized that Harry and I had a bit more in common than I originally thought.
Harry Potter, after losing his parents to the Dark Lord, becomes orphaned and placed in the care of his very ordinary, judgmental, and heartless aunt and uncle. They constantly put him down, give him the bare minimum to survive, and even force him to sleep in the cupboard under the stairs. His true self is deemed unacceptable. He doesn’t even know who he is, including how important and special he is in the wizarding world — or in life at large.
Back in middle and high school, I spent a lot of time trying to deny my attractions to men. I wasn’t raised in the church, but I still had a fear of admitting I was gay. I didn’t want to freak out my friends. I didn’t want to get beat up. I didn’t want to disappoint my family.
Being different wasn’t allowed.
Being different was discouraged.
I wasn’t religiously shamed, but I was bullied for my weight and my involvement in the arts. My constant differences in interests ostracized me from the rest of the men in my family. My parents fought often, but instead of remaining neutral I was emotionally overwhelmed by my mom and emotionally abandoned by my dad.
I may not have had magical powers or defeated any “He-Who-Must-Not-Be-Nameds,” but I felt like a stranger in my own home — a sad little boy who tried really hard to fit in but couldn’t.
Going to college was my acceptance into Hogwarts. My best friends in freshman year became my Ron and Hermione. Coming to grips with my sexuality, coming out to trustworthy friends, and coming to Christ helped me discover what made me special, even though I spent years hiding behind my shame and shoving down my reality.
Finding YOB in 2017 was like visiting Ron’s family in the Burrow for the first time. I realized that your chosen family can be stronger and more life-giving than most blood relatives.
YOB felt like home. It still does.
Getting married three years later shifted my mindset somewhat. Marriage, though something I felt called to, made it a bit more difficult to see my sexuality struggles as a blessing. In fact, that very — let’s call it exotic — quality forced me back into that “cupboard under the stairs” feeling.
Once again, being different wasn’t allowed. Once again, it was time to act normal and just fit in with all the other typical straight married guys in church and elsewhere.
Let’s just say this mindset hasn’t been super helpful.
To make things worse, the last couple YOBBERS Retreats have been difficult to see myself as “one of the bros,” because I hid quite a bit of pain and hurt.
When you go to the retreat, make sure you don’t let off too much about how hard your marriage is so that people don’t give you a reason to say, “I told you so,” I told myself.
Every retreat, though, despite the challenges and fears, I’ve found glimmers of hope. At the end of those YOBBERS Retreats, I’ve felt like Harry Potter leaving Hogwarts to return to Privet Drive.
I had to leave the place that felt like home to return to my home that didn’t really feel like home.
Makes a lot of sense, right?
Upon arriving at this year’s YOBBERS Retreat, learning our theme of “home,” I didn’t really know how to feel about it. I didn’t give it much thought. After all, the last few years have been challenging to believe I even have a home! A week before this retreat, I was still unsure about attending.
On the second day, however, I started to feel some kind of way. After witnessing the exquisite art piece of the three birds, the cage, and the dangling key, I started to process how exactly I looked at my life. I was the bird inside the cage; that was obvious.
But instead of being forced to stay within this locked cage, I had all the opportunities for it to be opened by others around me. In fact, I didn’t even think my cage was locked!
It’s easier to remain in the cage even when you can leave, because it’s familiar. It’s normal. It’s hard to ask others for help. It’s hard to just . . . be. Alone. In your own skin.
For the first time, this year’s YOBBERS Retreat allowed me to just be. So many loving brothers welcomed me. My tribe (small group) supported me. I shared in beautifully vulnerable. By the end of the weekend, I felt okay to be myself for the first time in a long time. I was home again in my own skin.
This year, upon leaving my Hogwarts, I wasn’t returning to Privet Drive. I was returning to the Burrow, the home I have wanted to find for quite some time. And I have my brothers from YOB to thank for every hard conversation and every positive word spoken there.
Thank you, my fellow sparrows, for an amazing weekend of camaraderie and wonderful self-discovery. Looking forward to 2025, boys!
Married or single, do you struggle to be “one of the boys”? If you are in what might be called a “mixed-orientation marriage,” how have you navigated fitting in with other married couples — particularly, married men?
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