I looked up when I heard the angry tone. I searched the faces in the crowded classroom.
Who was she talking to? Why are they staring at me?
The more she said, the more they stared at me. Like a confused, sleeping child hunting for a lamp in the dark of night, I looked for someone’s hand to grab but the only thing I could find was my desk, so I held on so tight my fingers hurt. I was twelve years old and this white-haired, plum little old art teacher, with words stark like winter sunshine on a ski slope, screeched, “Why must you act like such a dyke? You should be ashamed of yourself, wearing boy’s clothing.”
On the outside, I appeared calm and collected but I was dying inside.
Years later, my brother’s voice startled me. “E! Mom needs to talk to you!!” Setting my copy of The Fountainhead down, I took a deep breath and tried to loosen my right shoulder. It was tight from all the pitches I had thrown that morning. Each summer day between my senior year and first year of college, I threw 150-200 pitches, lifted weights for an hour, and ran at least three miles. I had a crush on Jon and a best friend named Tracy and we were inseparable—closer than I’d ever been to any of my friends.
Too close, apparently.
I opened my parents’ white bedroom door and tripped on a stray piece of loose carpet in their otherwise pristine room. My parents sat on fabric-covered bedside chairs and I wondered what I had done wrong because Mom’s brow was furrowed and Dad’s mouth was tight and he was glaring, not leering, at me. They assured me that “I needed help,” and that they wanted to help me because no one should be condemned to a “homosexual life sentence.”
I still didn’t understand what they meant until she held up my once-gay uncle’s letter as if channeling Senator McCarthy when he brandished his infamous list of Communists. This uncle of mine had undergone a spiritual awakening. He had seen the light and stopped his sinful fornication with other men, and ever since, he spent his days searching for other gays to save.
In his mind, I was yet one more gay in need of salvation. You know, because I dressed in jeans and white athletic t-shirts and didn’t wear makeup and wasn’t screwing some guy . . . and had a best friend that I hugged and even held a lot . . . surely, he reasoned, they reasoned, I needed help. Because I was gay and all. So my parents read his letter and asked all of these questions and told me I was going to hell and their words poured over me like cascading water falling fast, so fast, over rocks in a waterfall and I was falling, falling . . .
falling.
On the outside, I appeared calm and collected but I was dying inside.
So I grabbed the keys to my Subaru, and my journal that my mom has since hidden from me, and I drove down I-71 toward Pennsylvania, playing chicken with the guard rails for hours and hours. I wasn’t sure. I wasn’t sure. Was I going to hell? Did they know something I didn’t? I had never had sex with a man; then again, I knew what it felt like to be turned on and boys, not girls, got me going that way. I pulled over and wrote in my journal that I wanted to die, and then I kept moving west on my drive of death until the rain poured down so hard I couldn’t see. And then I chose to keep living and figuring all of this shit out and I gripped the wheel and made it home and once home, I drunk whatever I could find that night until the pain . . .
receded.
A few days ago, the phone rang and I answered it on the second ring.
“El?” She whispered, her voice ragged and ravaged by grief.
“Yes? It’s me. Talk to me.”
For a moment she cried too hard to speak. I knew what it was about. Someone we both know said that gays are sinners, destined for hell’s fires.
With my left hand, I swung my strawberry blonde hair out of my eyes and pressed the receiver into my right ear, and I waited.
Photo Credit Karen Kartjen.
“God loves me!”
“I know, hun.”
“GOD LOVES ME!! He loves me!”
“I know. I know He does.” I repeated the same words and felt her grief in my cold heart.
“Enough! Enough! How many more children need to die?” She was howling, like an animal wounded and left to die, and I held still, very still, trying to breathe, and listen, and find the right words. We both know the statistics: four out of five teenagers who commit suicide have been bullied on account of their sexual orientation.
I nodded and mumbled something useless.
“How can he say I am a sinner?” I pictured her tear-rimmed, blue eyes with dark rings circling them and her own hand gripping the phone, and my mind danced between knowing and not knowing how to comfort her.
“How can he say God doesn’t love me? HE MADE ME!! He knew me before He made me!” I could barely understand her because she was sobbing so hard.
“I know. I love you. I know. I know.” I said the same words over and over, as if I was hugging her and patting her back. I felt so fucking useless. “I am so sorry,” I added, as I sunk into my rocking chair, my throat gripped by her grief and my own pain.
On the outside, I appeared calm and collected but I was dying inside.
There are many ways to die. A piece of me felt broken and grief-stricken as I sat there in my rocking chair, wishing I could hold my dear, precious friend, as she wept at the persecution she and so many others face. This inward death is my marker for each gay child who dies when the vocal violence of human hatred drives her to choose too soon her own death.
The death I almost chose.
El what an honest and soul baring post. Thank you so much for writing this and sharing as I am sure it wasn’t easy to do. You are such a force of a woman and you are so fierce with supporting your friends. I love you so much for your fighting and resilient spirit. You are an amazing person! xoxo
Thank you so much my friend, and much love to you!!
Beautiful, painful, raw, eye-opening and honest! I’m sorry for your pain, for your friend’s pain, for the pain of so many others. Unnecessary pain. Pain caused by hatred and fear. So unnecessary and unacceptable. Love to you, to your friend, to all the others who feel this persecution.
Thank you for your kind thoughts Carrie–and yes, the unnecessary pain is such a shame. Much love to you!
Oh El, that’s so beautiful and honest.
Aw shoot, thank you so much.
This is another moving and powerful post. Wow. I had no idea “four out of five teenagers who commit suicide have been bullied on account of their sexual orientation.” I love that through your friend’s anguish, she was still able to say, “God loves me. He knew me before He made me.”
It’s an exhausting fight, fighting against a hate that’s so irrational. And what a waste of energy, to hate someone on ‘principle.’ I’m so glad you’re still fighting the good fight, El
Hello Jules!! Good to see you here!! I had no idea about that statistic either. And yes, it is so important that the persecuted know that they are loved by God. It is an exhausting fight, and indeed an unnecessary one! Thank you so much for your kind thoughts!!
Powerful stuff sweetie. I had a good friend in college come out to me. When she slept over at my house, my parents wanted us in separate beds. I laughed. She wasn’t attracted to me. Just because someone is gay doesn’t mean they want to “get with” everyone of the same sex. That’s a major misconception. And my parents are pretty open-minded! So sorry there are people who enjoy making others feel miserable. I’m pretty sure they are lower on the karmic wheel. It goes around.
Hello my friend. I hope you’re not tearing your hair out–my gosh. And that IS a major misconception for sure . . . love the thought that the karmic wheel comes around!!
I am sort of speechless. Grateful you are fighting the good fight.
Thank you so much my friend. It often renders me speechless too.
Ah. This stirs up a lot of emotion. From being “accused” of being gay to retrospective knowledge about my SIL’s depression in high school to anger at all those trifling bi-curious folks playing around, discounting real pain that real people suffer. Acting like their experimentation gives them something real in common with gays and lesbians, referencing their “lesbian days” with smug smiles. We still have such a long way to go. Love you and your writing, El. (hugs)
Ah, it stirs up a lot of emotion in me too, my friend. The whole “accusation” thing stinks, and I am sorry about your SIL’s depression in high school–sigh. Love you too and hugs.
WOW……pure honesty right there. ♥
Thank you so much Carmen!! xo
El, I want to tell you that I love this post, but somehow it just doesn’t sound right – it’s such a painfully poignant reminder that there are still so many people out there who don’t “get it”. God, love, humanity, community – they ignore the very teachings of Jesus that they purport to be following. And yet, i find comfort in knowing that there are so many of us who are speaking up about the injustices brought upon people who see the world through different eyes. Thank you for sharing such a personal story, and for reminding us all about the importance of standing up to the bullies (no matter how many scriptural quotes they may spout….)
My gosh, thank you so much Dawn, for your kind remarks above. And I agree for sure that standing up to all types of injustice (particularly Bible-based injustices) is the right (but often difficult) way to approach life.
El, I am at a loss for words. Thank you for drawing the curtain back once again so that we might learn from your strength. You are a very gifted writer and individual. Blessing to you always.
Aw thank you so much Stephanie!! Blessings right back at you!!!
I can only echo everyone’s comments thus far. It’s not just that you wrote about this, it’s how you wrote about it…I had a friend who just rode in the Aids Lifecycle event here in Cali…a bunch of us went to stand on a street side an cheer the riders on…I screamed “You’re awesome!” so loud I practically lost my voice, and then it was so hard to leave the site and head off to work. For some reason, even with all of the support these riders had, people of all sexual preferences, caravans following along, I felt like the riders needed more…the “cause” is quieter these days, and these horrific issues of sexual persecution have fallen by the wayside in the public’s eye…but the torment is obviously still there. Your friend is right…God made us…ALL of us, and He loves her, you, me, and on and on. XOXO-SWM
Thank you so much for your kind remarks, SWM!! And I love what you did at the Aids Lifecycle event!! You rock! And the cause is quieter these days, but it is always worth lending it our voice. I agree: God made us and he loves us one and all. xoxo ~el
This is so beautifully done. Human beings are such a-holes sometimes.
Thank you so much Val!!! And folks are indeed a-holes (giggle).
I am so glad the guard-rails didn’t win. Because you are a gift. <3
So much gratitude to you Lisha!!
This is a powerful post. After years of self-hatred and self-harm, I finally came out on the other side. And now I am building a marvelous life with my partner. Though, it has come at a cost, losing my Dad and a sibling I never thought would reject me. But silent rejection is better than the horrific pain heaped upon so many others.
You’re writing is a beautiful gift. Thanks for sharing.
Jen: I am so sorry for the pain you went through, and so overjoyed that you are building a marvelous life with the woman you love. Thank you so much for stopping by!! xo
Heart wrenching, El, and beautifully written. The moment my childhood best friend revealed that she was gay, I knew without a doubt that the supposed “sinful” nature of homosexuality held no merit whatsoever. Ignorance causes more pain than all diseases and injuries combined, IMO. Thank you for sharing your story. You no doubt inspire many.
A very soul bearing story. Thank you so much for sharing. I am so sorry for the pain you endured. I am glad you fought and are with us today. You will inspire many with your story. Much love to you. ♥
I think you really hit me with something that I’ve never thought about quite so profoundly — the idea that homophobia can eat into someone’s own personal relationship with God. And this is coming from someone who both believes in God (very much so) and is also a huge advocate for gay rights, gay marriage, etc. Why am I just now getting that? I guess I’ve always been so secure in my faith and belief that being gay is not a sin to the point that I’ve never stopped to think of what it must feel like to be gay and worried that you might not be accepted by a God you believe in.
Wow. Epiphany.