As a kid, I said a lot of derogatory things about LGBTQ+ people. I cringe at the things I remember saying. When I realized I was gay, all of that hatred that I showed to others turned in on myself. That realization drove me to reparative therapy. The logic makes sense: I hate gay people, I am gay — thus, I need to not be gay.
I'm queer. That is how I now identify my sexuality. And it's how I can best define my experience of gender, too. In my pursuit to grow more like Christ, I was setting aside part of my life as a mystery spot. How could I submit my sexuality to Christ if I didn't even know what it was?
A point came in our relationship when I realized just how dependent I was on him and just how one-sided our friendship was. For my own well-being, I needed to step away from the relationship. What follows is the lament and reflection I wrote in saying "goodbye" to our friendship.
When the call came, it wasn't that I couldn't hear it; it was that I had no interest in obeying. For Jonah, that call was Nineveh. For me? It was coming out. My "solution" for my sexuality was quite simple: I'd tell no one, become straight, and then move on with my life. A secret I'd die keeping rather than ever share; I could hardly admit it to myself, let alone another human.
Straight men have always been scary. They've long been "the other," going all the way back to first grade. We may not share the same tastes for sports and media consumption, but we still share a common masculine heart. One fraught with hauntingly familiar masculine thorns.
Do I live the way I live purely because of the way I was raised? Do I still harbor any internalized homophobia of myself and others? Is that why I'm "Side B"? Is this all coming from a place of pious self-righteousness?
We hadn't seen each other in a while, so we caught up on each other's lives. Then came the confrontation. The tone changed, and he wanted to get some stuff off his chest. He told me he didn't appreciate my butting in on their relationship and trying to save our friendship. That if he had to choose between our friendship or his girlfriend, he'd choose her.
Last month, I wrote about my botched attempt at sharing my story at a church for the first time. Since then, I realised, I've never really reflected back on my comings out. Taken a birds-eye view of things, processing the other times I've communicated my sexuality to other people. Until today.
The voices flooded my mind. How useless am I not to protect the females on the team? I am so weak. I am nothing like the other guys on the team. What am I even doing here?! With all that had been going on, my team director decided to have a chat with me.
The morning after, I processed this dream over and over. This "dad of my dreams" was unlike my dad of reality. He was affectionate and involved. He helped me — didn't just tell me to fix whatever was wrong. And he stayed with me.