Get Out There

A couple of weeks ago I attended this year’s first session of Man to Man, an GBTQ discussion group at the Center. We started off by making a long list of things that we would like to discuss during the course of the year – things like gay PDA, advocacy, body image, but a common theme that almost everyone mentioned was relationships. That is, dating. A lot of people complained that Duke has a hookup culture, which is not new news to any of us, but it begs a question: if so many of us are discontent with the hookup culture, why doesn’t anyone try to change it?

During Sophomore Convocation, Dean Sue urged our class to put ourselves out there and “have the courage to date.” She noted that there is always [and always will be] some risk associated with love. She was right, there are risks associated with love. Love can seem scary and putting yourself out there definitely increases your possibility of getting hurt, but the hope is that all the heartache you may go through will be worth it in the end.  If you want to get to know someone, ask him/her to have coffee or lunch with you.  Sure, there’s a chance that you won’t find ‘the one’ immediately, but there isn’t any harm in going on a few casual dates with someone to get to know him/her better. There isn’t any pressure to ask him/her out again if you decide you aren’t interested, but it’s likely that even if things aren’t going to happen romantically, you will have at least made a new friend. Baby steps, people, baby steps.

Complaining about Duke’s hookup culture without actively trying to change it isn’t constructive. I’m not saying there is anything inherently wrong with hooking up as long as it is mutually consensual, but if you want more, then you owe it to yourself to put yourself out there, cause you never know who might be waiting for you to make the first move. You may get hurt, but “don't brood. Get on with living and loving. You don't have forever.” - Leo Buscaglia

Strength

I have to admit it. As the vote on Amendment One draws near, I’m scared. And not just horror movie scared—no, I’m scared in an existential way that shakes you to your core. It may seem obvious to some, but let me explain why I’m scared.

You see, I consider myself a strong person, and yet these past few months, I’ve started to feel very weak. While weakness isn’t new to me, I haven’t felt this weak in quite some time. In many ways, I’ve spent my life learning to be strong, learning to overcome, and learning to take pride in my identity. Through persistent effort, I’ve been able to make weakness something that is constantly in my past—at least until now.

I remember feeling weak as a child, when the other kids in my neighborhood made fun of me for playing with Barbies and for wanting an easy bake oven. I used to sit in the dining room of my house and watch the other kids in my neighborhood play on the street, but because I was a “sissy,” and a “girly-boy,” I didn’t go outside—I stayed at the window, wishing that I had friends in my neighborhood who could play dress-up with me, who could be my friends even though I was a little bit different. I remember feeling weak then, but I mustered up my strength, learned to assert myself, and eventually found a way to make friends in spite of being different.

I remember feeling weak in middle school whenever my friends asked me if I had a crush on someone. I dreaded that question, because every time someone asked me, I longed to tell them the truth and never did. Thoughts of a boy in my class would bubble up warmly into my mind, but each time I pushed them back down in favor of a lie. I lied so often. I remember feeling weak then. Over the years and after many failures, I gained the courage to stop lying, to claim my truth. Through strength, I was able to live a more honest life.

I remember feeling weak in high school, when I heard about Lawrence King, an eighth-grader who was murdered by one of his classmates because he was gay. It wasn’t until I heard about Lawrence’s death that I began to understand the full magnitude of homophobia, and it was crushing. I realized that I lived in a world where even children thought it acceptable to kill someone for being different. I remember feeling weak then, but I didn’t take weakness for an answer—I found the strength to make an announcement over my high school intercom decrying Lawrence’s murder, I found the strength to begin organizing local gay straight alliances in Raleigh, and I found the strength to author and pass a resolution against LGBT bullying at the Annual Conference of the NC Methodist Church.

And I remember feeling weak last semester, when the NC General Assembly approved a referendum on Amendment One, placing my civil rights to a majority vote. I sat, dazed, surrounded by the realization that something like this could happen in my home state. But once again, I summoned all of my strength and got moving. Along with a few cherished friends, I worked to establish a campus-wide coalition against Amendment One, to hold a rally, to secure a voting site on campus, to author a Duke Student Government resolution against Amendment One that passed unanimously, and to get grants for printing up t-shirts, buttons and stickers.

But over the past few days, I began to realize something.

I realized that, no matter what I do, I could never be strong enough. Through individual strength and perseverance, I will never be able to defeat one of the most hateful pieces of legislation in our state’s history. My personal strength—no matter how fervent, no matter how fierce—will never be able to overcome amendment one, because at the end of the day, I am still just one person with one vote. In the face of Amendment One, I am profoundly weak. For the first time in my life, I feel powerless.

Which is why I need you.

While I may be weak as an individual, with you, I can be strong again. Because of you and through your ardent support, I will be able to find my strength. Alone, I may be only one person with one vote, but together, we are two people with two votes, and as a community, we are hundreds and thousands of people with the strength to change this world.

So I need you to be strong. I need you to be strong for my family. I need you to be strong for my community. Alone, I can never achieve equality before the law, but together, we just may stand a fighting chance. Together, against all odds, we may just be able to beat Amendment One. If we stand up, arm in arm and hand in hand, we have the chance to make history by being the first state in the South to vote down an amendment that takes away the fundamental rights of the LGBT community.

Together we are strong. Together we make history.

Will you be strong with me?

Fear

As I believe I've previously mentioned I was in the closet throughout my collegiate career because I felt I had to be in order to get the references I needed to move on with my life (i.e. seminary). Initially I was okay not talking about it, but as time passed I became increasingly frustrated that I had to talk out of the side of my mouth for the sake of self-preservation within a community that claimed to want to discuss the “big issues” of our day - although only if you played for team hetero.

Don’t get me wrong - I love and respect many people from that time, but unfortunately the bitterness of loneliness colors the way I remember my last four years.

I've gone through plenty of unfortunate events in my life, however coming out and wrestling with that by myself stands as an exceptionally painful moment.

Several weeks ago I was talking about Things and Feelings at lunch in the Duke Divinity lounge. The woman I was conversing with had just been “evangelized to” outside of the Brian Center, and apparently in this exchange the person trying to recruit her to Team Jesus asked what she thought about Teh Gays.

I took this opportunity to mention my own gay-ness and how exhausting it had been to be semi-honest and fearful, an experience which motivated me to choose Duke. I praised Duke Div's ability to be orthodox and inclusive (although I don't really know how the two can ever be divorced), and I expressed my gratefulness for a community of people who I felt safe to be myself around.

Although I'm sure it appears otherwise from my posts on BDU, I actually don't (explicitly, at least) inject my sexuality into everything I do. I can and do talk about other things quite regularly. I have a variety of interests, and ladies are just one of them.

_{Y’know? Y’know?}

(However I suppose my faux hawk makes everything I do implicitly gay...)

I don’t need to talk about My People and Their Rights all the time. I know gay people who do that and it’s like. Get a hobby please.

That being said, though, I want to feel safe being honest in the event that gay-related things do come up. Sexuality came up on the regular in college and I couldn’t actually contribute my view(s) because it would have been incriminating and destructive to the world I had so carefully constructed. Feeling obligated to be less-than-honest for the sake of everyone else's comfort (and to ensure my academic reputation) was painful, to say the least.

In this Christmas season, when Jesus came into the world in all kinds of compromising and socially unacceptable/unexpected ways, I am infinitely thankful to be a part of a people who, even if they don't agree with me, don't dismiss me automatically for loving who I love and being who I am. I am thankful I don't need to cloak the "real me" for the sake of academic preservation, and furthermore for the opportunity to talk about my Things and Feelings on the BDU blog.

Theological Thanksgiving

I regularly find the time when one is expected to share what they are thankful for more than a little stilted. Oftentimes (I find this especially true in Christian households) it turns into a competition of theological one-upmanship, seeing who can most creatively be most thankful for Jesus this year.

With this in mind, this year I am without a doubt thankful for love.

I know, I know, you’re already having PTSD flashbacks to the lame Christian Thanksgiving, but hear me out; I’m desperately trying to avoid that.

In particular I am thankful for the love of a specific woman who, while making me remarkably happy, has also revolutionized the way I view God. As a wanna-be Christian theologian love is a profoundly and unavoidably theological concept, and it is unsurprising that I strain life-altering events (such as falling in love) through this Christocentric way of seeing.

I get it now.
This whole “Jesus loves me thing.”
It makes sense.

All of a sudden crucifixion for the sake of another’s wholeness doesn’t seem ridiculous because I’d do the same thing in a heartbeat.

God’s love is radical and irrational; it gives everything up and asks for nothing in return just because. God ceaselessly and recklessly chases after the ones He loves, destroying human conceptions of what “reasonable limits” mean in the pursuit of reconciliation and unity with His beloved.

I get it now.
I get it because it is my life.

It pains me that there are churches which believe this kind of love is destructive, sinful behavior. It pains me to think that this firsthand lesson in love, which I believe is educating me about theology and pastoral care more than any seminary course possibly could, automatically disqualifies me from pursuing ordination in a host of Christian denominations with whom I find a lot of theological accord … minus the gay thing.

Nonetheless I am thankful for the beautiful woman I get to wake up next to, who holds me when I weep and who thinks I am a culinary genius when I make spaghetti. God loves her more and more perfectly than I ever could, and realizing that has made my appreciation for His great love only increase. Recognizing His overwhelming, passionate, jealous love for us colors the way I view everything, including theological realities – e.g. the incarnation, the cross, the resurrection – which have taken on a meaning I could not have imagined prior to this soul-consuming adoration for a woman.

I get it now.
I am thankful for love.

"Duke Gay"

I was offered admission to Duke University exactly one year ago today, but at the time I was justifiably concerned about a different kind of acceptance.

At 5:00 pm, I found out of my acceptance and by 5:01 I was wondering about LGBT life at Duke. The first phrase I searched on the internet was the first that came to mind: “Duke gay.” Whether this reflects my poor knowledge of Google’s search algorithms or simply my nervous excitement, I’m not sure.

What was I looking for? I’m not sure. I’ll tell you what I’ve since found, though.

Duke’s Center for LGBT Life is a great resource and the students that frequent it form a great community. Duke has many LGBT students representing all backgrounds. How many students? I won’t lie and say that we’re a Yale or a Smith, but there are enough students for a diverse, strong, and outspoken community. There are alternatives to this community, though—many openly LGBT students don’t have anything to do with the Center and are perfectly happy. The LGBT dating scene is strong, though the LGBT hookup scene is stronger. But that’s just college, right?

Openly gay students rarely rush fraternities and sororities, but it isn’t unheard of. Selective living groups—typically coed and accepting—are popular alternatives to Greek life, providing networking opportunities and social outlets without rigid gender roles or a stressful rush process.

While there is always room for improvement, the Administration has a history of LGBT support. In addition to funding the Center for LGBT life, it maintains a strong anti-discrimination policy inclusive of sexual orientation. That chapel you’ve seen or heard so much about? Yeah, it hosts same-sex ceremonies.

And don’t write Duke off, like I almost did, just because it’s in the South. Duke is in Durham, which has recently been crowned the Lesbian Capital of the South. Not lesbian? That’s okay, too- Durham, along with Raleigh and Chapel Hill form a region known as the Research Triangle, a moderately liberal oasis within the Bible-Belt. In 2009, openly gay Town Councilman Mark Kleinshmidt ran for and won the office of Mayor of Chapel Hill, which I see as a positive indicator of the region’s social progressiveness.

If you’ve recently been accepted to Duke University, I extend my congratulations. I hope this post and this blog are helpful to you and I encourage you to ask any questions you may have in the comment section. I also recommend that you attend Blue Devil Days to get a feel for campus culture, academic, social, and otherwise.

Oh, and did I mention that NC Pride ran right past my dorm last September?

Come On, Guys

So, do you remember my blog post from a long time ago (this one) where I voiced my concern about not having a space to have open, thoughtful discussions about what it means to be a gay male on this campus with other gay males? Well, it's happening!

Yes, you read that correctly. There will be a new discussion group starting in the very near future just for LGBTQ-identified men to get together and discuss the issues that we face in our lives. Now, I know that there was some controversy over having a men's group but I feel that this a great, necessary step to take in order to pull our community together and maybe even welcome more into it. I'm going to tell you exactly why I feel like this is so necessary just so maybe those of you who are skeptical can understand where I'm coming from.

Guys, we don't talk. We never talk about the important things. We can easily have a 2-hour discussion about Glee or the classic divas of our time (omg don't get me started), but what about the things that matter. What about talking about how we interact with people who don't conform to gender norms? What about having a discussion about trying to break away from those age-old stereotypes of masculinity that concerned so many of us about coming out? Can we discuss how sometimes we can feel pressure from our friends to be more masculine? And how about the way we interact with the women, trans-folk, and those not conforming to either gender? Oh and don't forget about how we just interact with each other in general.

We never talk about any of these things and it's time that we do. It's the only way for us to be an actual community. It takes more than just being visible and social. We have to realize that in order for us to be able to help the greater Community, we have to fix ours first. I know that we are individually close to each other but as a men's community on the whole, we're worlds apart.

I've never gotten a real sense of unity from the men's community. It's always seemed like everybody did their own thing and never really came together except for special occasions and a trip to Vespa. Is that all we are fellas? A social factor in the community? I certainly hope not. I want to sit down and be able to talk about all the things we are going through because you can't deny that each of us isn't going through something.

Also, we always say how we want more people to feel comfortable coming to events. This could be the perfect place for men who maybe aren't so much into the social scene to come and express ways we could help them feel more comfortable. I feel as though there is an entire segment of the gay male population that is just not being satisfied right now and this could be a step in the right direction to making sure that everyone is welcome.

Simply put: We can make our community better. We can foster stronger, closer bonds between all of us. All it takes is talking.

Me and Maury

Ok. So it's confession time. I have a teddy bear that I sleep with every night. His name is Maury Povich. Let me explain briefly how Maury came into my life and why he's named Maury. I promise this has a point. Just "bear" with me (lol get it?).

So it was the day after Halloween last semester. Two of my brothers dressed up as robots. Their costumes were made out of cardboard boxes and aluminum foil. They decided to keep the costumes for a while and use them as decoration in our common room. While cleaning up the common room, we find this random teddy bear. It was white with a little bow around it's neck. It had a cute brown nose and a random string coming out of its back. We had no idea who it belonged to so we just left it in the common room thinking that if someone really wanted it, they would come looking for it.

Weeks went by and no one claimed it. Eventually, Thanksgiving rolled around and still no one claimed it. One day, someone thought it would be funny to put the teddy bear in one of the robot costumes and face it towards the tv as though it was watching it. I stared at it for the longest time. It seemed to be looking back at me with a smile on its face. So I took it up to my room and kept it for myself. And I've had it with me ever since, except over winter break when I left in too much of a rush to grab him off my bed. I originally just called him Teddy but it didn't seem to fit. So I changed it to Franklin. But that made me think of the cartoon turtle. So I asked my brothers what I should call him. During finals week, I would sit in the common room with my blanket and my teddy and just watch tv. Our favorite show? You probably guessed it: The Maury Show. So they said I should call him Maury and Maury he's been ever since.

So, now, the real reason for this story. Why in the world would a 20-year-old that has never slept with a stuffed animal before all of a sudden feel the urge to do so? Why is a child's toy so important to me?

Well, honestly, for a while I had no idea. I didn't understand how an inanimate object could mean so much to a little child. But then I sat back one day and thought about it.

I've been going through a lot these past few months starting back probably at the beginning of the semester. As I've stated before, I don't like to think of myself as having one main identity followed by others that rank in importance. Every group that identify with is just as important to me, no one more so than the other. I love that about myself. But it's also caused me so many problems. Sometimes, it seems like one of my identities doesn't necessarily mesh well with one or more of the others. And so I'm left in this sort of identity tug of war. For example, let's take my multiple identities and see how they react with each other: gay, black, greek.

Now, just looking at those, if these didn't apply to me, I would say that they never work together. Well, they do or they can at least most of the time. But, these three identities don't always make life so easy. As Xan beautifully pointed out in her post from yesterday, black and gay don't always get along. For me, this clash often forces me to choose who to hang out with and how to act when around certain groups due to certain repercussions that are bound to happen. And I hate that! I hate that with a burning passion. I hate being fake. But I also hate evil glares and cold shoulders, especially from members of groups that I identify with.

Now, let's take a look at gay and greek. We all know this can have its issues with worrying about being accepted by your greek brothers or sisters. I can honestly say that I have never faced this and I know that I am so fortunate for that. But I'd also like to point out that sometimes, some members of the LGBTQ community don't always make it easy to be greek. I remember being told by a few members of the community that I need to stop pretending to be "fratty" and "embrace my gayness." I don't know if I've ever been more offended in my life. The sarcastic or condescending tone of voice some people use when asking me if I'm hanging out with my fraternity just makes the wound bleed even more.

Lastly, black and greek can actually work very well... if you're in a Black fraternity. Well, I'm not. So when talking to other members of the Black and I mention that I'm not in a historically Black fraternity, well, let's just say you can cut the tension with an imaginary butter knife. I become shunned from conversation and almost treated as a traitor.

So, I've been feeling like a partial exile from each of these groups and it makes me feel splintered. I haven't felt like a whole person in a very long time. Couple this with the stress of school, dealing with family issues, trying to salvage what little of a relationship I was having with this guy (and ultimately failing), I've been having some crappy months. I put on a brave face when I'm out walking around but on the inside, I'm falling apart at the seems. I just wanted something to grasp on to that would never leave me. Something that would always be there for me.

And that's how Maury came into my life and became so important to me. Maury is always there with open arms and a smile, ready to give me a big bear hug whenever I feel my world slipping away from me again. Maury is always there to catch my tears as I'm trying to fall asleep at night. Maury is there to be my company when no one else is around. I love my Maury.

The 20 Ways in Which I am Stereotypically (and Fabulously) Gay

So my last post, entitled “The 20 Ways in Which I am not Stereotypically Gay” caused a mini-riot in the blogosphere with accusations ranging from misogyny to sexism. I could preface this with a statement about how the reason for this post is to point out the frivolity of stereotypes, not to suggest that conformity is superior to non-conformity or vice-versa, but my prefacing was largely ignored last post, so I’ll just get right into it. The list:

1. I LOVE Lady Gaga—I went to the concert in Raleigh, was in the front row, was dressed up in an outfit that included a hubcap, and yelled very shameful things at the stage concerning my love.

2. I enjoy wearing high heels—They make me feel powerful, and I’m all for abolishing gender norms.

3. I like glitter—and really anything shiny for that matter. Gold patent-leather shoes? Fine by me.

4. I am a vegetarian—For ecological and economic reasons. You should be a vegetarian too!

5. I am a Democrat—and proud of it!

6. I have a significant number of rainbow-colored objects in my life—flags, bandanas, streamers, hats, stickers, etc.

7. I am an activist!

8. I am a good dancer—I went to a youth summit over thanksgiving break and got the best dancer award, so this is verified by a third party

9. I have taken ballet—which is surprisingly the most heterosexual I’ve ever felt, because I groped girls every time I did a pas de deux.

10. I’m goofy—and as a corollary, I use the word “silly” quite often.

11. I like Whole Foods and most organic products

12. I own something made by Gucci—which happens to be a pair of gold bowling shoes that I got at a gay-owned consignment store.

13. I like art museums. TONS.

14. I feel comfortable and at home in a coffee shop.

15. As an UPDATE from my last list, I got my most recent haircut not at Great Clips, but at a place called “Lavish Hair Spa” by a gay man named Danny (who has done Rupaul’s makeup before, nbd.)

16. And speaking of Rupaul, I both love drag shows and have performed in one.

17. I also like Beyonce, and Rhianna, and LaRoux.

18. I watch the Food Network (Paula Deen is my favorite)

19. I am pretty fabulous

20. I like kitties, and pictures of small, furry animals make me squeal like I was a small, furry animal.

So that’s the second installment of the list. Look out for the third and final installment “20 Things that are interesting about me completely independent of stereotypes.”

The 20 Ways in Which I am Not Stereotypically Gay

Let’s face it; there are a lot of stereotypes of gay men. Some of them are good and some of them are bad, but all of them are damaging in that they attempt to tell gay men how they should behave and enable society to marginalize the diversity of the gay community, so I figured that I’d write up a quick list of all the ways in which I am not stereotypically gay. It’s not that there’s anything wrong with conforming to stereotypes concerning gay men--seriously, there's not just look at the picture of me above--it’s just that the stereotypes of gay men that are culturally enforced portray an image of the gay community that is not necessarily genuine or reflective of who we are.

So, without further ado, here is my list:

1. I enjoy nature, and not just because it’s hip to be a hiker, but more because of an intrinsic love for it. Which leads me to the next thing;

2. I am not scared of bugs: as a matter of fact, I think that they’re both fascinating and kind of cute if anything.

3. I am Southern: according to some people who are from north of the Mason-Dixon line, the existence of gay southerners is shocking.

4. I loathe shopping: When I go to the mall—which I did for the first time in a year yesterday—I get in, get what I need, and get out. Racks of clothes sort of bore me.

5. I do not own a pair of pants or jeans that cost more than $50: Well, correction, I do own a pair of French jeans that cost $155, but I got them for free, and I never turn down free things

6. I am not promiscuous: While I’ve made a mistake or two in my life, I refuse to dissociate physical affection from interpersonal/emotional affection, and consequently, I’m like Kelly Clarkson, “oh, oh, I do not hook up, up, I go slow.”

7. I like music other than pop, indie, and electronica: this includes but is not limited to, bluegrass, Johnny Cash, hip-hop, opera (which I guess is pretty stereotypically gay), and Elvis.

8. Clubbing is not my raison d’etre: I would much prefer to watch a movie and cuddle.

9. I do not watch Glee, have never seen Wicked, and think that Gossip Girl is kind of a waste of time.

10. I don’t like getting drunk really.

11. I get my haircut at Great Clips.

12. I’m not scared of vaginas. After all, that is where we all came from isn’t it?

13. I’m not superficial, and if you think otherwise, we should have a serious conversation.

14. I don’t like to gossip: it’s not nice to talk about people behind their back.

15. I love power-tools and construction work.

16. My dream is not necessarily to live in New York City or San Francisco; I like the South just fine, and I’d also be fine with a village in Burma.

17. I’ve never tanned in my life, because I don’t like the idea of melanoma.

18. I value the idea of family and family structure. I aspire to be a father, to have a husband, and to someday have grandchildren.

19. I don’t mind getting dirty; not in the Christina Aguilera sense of the term, but in the I-have-mud-on-my-face-and-my-leg-is-covered-in-grass-stains sense of the term.

20. I really like Mormons. Some of my best friends in high school were Mormon and I find their spirituality and commitment to principle inspiring.

So those are my top twenty. I’d love to hear some other people’s.

Also, be on the lookout for my next post, "THE 20 WAYS IN WHICH I AM STEREOTYPICALLY GAY"

Eviction

A high school friend of mine is getting kicked out of her house soon. Her mother has told her that as soon as she turns 18 she is no longer welcome there. Ever. Verbatim, this woman told her daughter that she is disgusting, that she wasn’t raised to be like this, that God hates her, and that she would rather see her dead.

All because she likes girls.

You see, her mother found one of her journals where she keeps all her ideas for stories and recounts some thoughts or events she’s had that day. Then follows three angry voice mails, an early pick up from school, a smashed cell phone, and an extremely heated argument. Now my friend’s only hope for reconciling with her mother is to take an online, ex-gay course… and then bury her true feelings until she breaks or her mother passes.

Hearing my friend tell me this, it gave me such a sick feeling in my stomach. I tried to see it from a parental point of view: I have a child, a beautiful baby girl. I raise her for almost 18 years, watching her go through school, seeing her graduate, and remembering things like her first steps, her first words, play dates, story time, soccer games, movie nights, prom... And no matter which way I turn it in my mind, no matter what scenario I fit to it, I simply cannot fathom telling this child, my child, that she is disgusting, that I would rather she were dead.

This isn’t the first time I’ve seen this happen. I’ve known kids who’ve run away from home, or worse, for this reason before. Their parents find a hidden note, or they snoop on their computers at night, or listen in on a phone conversation. Some are tossed out immediately. Others suffer neglect or abuse until they can’t stand it anymore. I’ve sat in a restaurant and heard my step-mother say “One day, an earthquake is gonna send California out to sea, and it will sink, as God’s wrath against the homosexuals.” Because obviously, all gays are in California and all Californians are gay. It’s absurd.

Why is homophobia strong enough to drive some parents to feel this way about their children? Is it because they won’t have grandkids now? Science has become advanced enough that gayness is no longer a deterrent for continuing the bloodline. Is it the social stigma, the ageless prejudice? Maybe. Especially here in the South you find parents who, if not religiously inclined, have been taught that it is morally deplorable for so long it just sticks. Unfortunately, it seems religion is one of the stronger forces driving these feelings. My friend is getting kicked out of her house because her mother believes without a doubt that homosexuality is a sin. That God hates the homosexuals, so the only thing to do is change her daughter, or excommunicate her.

It is my belief, deep down, that even the God so many quote against us would disagree with this woman. The Bible preaches many things but the common motif is always Love. Unfortunately, this is too often overlooked. What happened to “love thy neighbor”? Where is “love the sinner, hate the sin”? Why is another girl, a child, being thrown from her home and her family because of who she loves? Homophobia is something I’ve seen so long it doesn’t really surprise me anymore, but to the point where you will hate your own children, cast them out like so many used napkins… I hope there never comes a time when I understand that.

Stereotypes

I'm going to get right to the point: stereotypes annoy me. All kinds. Yes, sometimes they are applicable to people, but I dislike when people automatically assume things.

For instance, the night of the Super Bowl, my common room was filled with people watching the game. I had so much homework, I only dropped in occasionally, but when the Saints had won, I was overjoyed. I had been rooting for them from almost the start of the season. Then, a friend of mine came in disappointed. She had been rooting for the Colts. When I told her I was happy for the Saints, she said "What do you know about football? You're gay." I'm sure she meant it in a joking way, but then I spent five minutes showing that not only did I know a lot about football, I'm also an athlete and have been one for 10 years. People don't bat an eyelash when I tell them I sing and love musical theater or Project Runway, but I tell them I'm into sports and suddenly that's so surprising, just because I'm a gay man.

The same has happened to some of my lesbian friends. One was talking to her ex on Facebook and showed us a picture of her. This woman was very attractive, and one of the guys in the room, on seeing her, turns to my friend and says "SHE'S a lesbian? Damn, you can't even tell anymore." I turn to him, incredulous. No, believe it or not, you can't. In fact, you couldn't tell previously. Contrary to what I'm afraid is popular belief, outward appearance is not a good indicator of sexual orientation. I have met incredibly "feminine" straight men, and I've met gay guys that are more "masculine" than most straight ones. It just annoys me that people will typecast others just from looking at them. It's not fair. Another story, my friend Alicia from high school and I were at the mall, and a guy from our school came up and was hitting on her. She told him she wasn't interested, she liked girls. He says "You're a lesbian? But you're attractive enough to get guys."

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I would've been really pissed off at him if I wasn't feeling so sorry. He picked the WRONG lesbian to say that to.

Just because people are homosexual does not mean you can immediately ascribe characteristics to them. Everyone is different, that's that. You shouldn't assume things about them. It's not fair.

Homosexuality vs. Religion

Hello. For my first blog post I had no idea what to write. I was sitting in my room tapping the keyboard uselessly, and then a book on my shelf with a little rainbow sticker caught my eye, and this post was born.

Being gay comes with no small amount of controversy. Most societies today choose to frown upon same-sex couples, never really understanding the situation from our point of view. It’s tough, it really is, dealing with the social jibes, unjust laws, and personal prejudices, but for those of us who belong to a faith that condemns homosexuality, it could be even worse. It’s one thing for others to dislike who you’re attracted to, it’s quite another when you dislike yourself for it.

I remember when I was in middle school and I started to realize that I was attracted to other guys. I was terrified. Raised Lutheran, with both parents converting to Southern Baptists after the divorce, I had heard passages from the Bible that condemned homosexuals as innately evil, hell-bound devil worshippers (I’m paraphrasing from an old pastor). It’s a difficult concept for a 13 year old to deal with, the idea that God created you as you are/everything you are is as God made you, and at the same time facing the gate of Hell for something you have no control over: who you love.

I’m sure this has been an issue for many gay men and women. The thing that helped me, though was a book called The God Box, by Alex Sanchez. I had never before felt so connected to a main character. Alex Sanchez is a gay fiction writer whose novels are all gay teenage coming-of-age stories, and in this was one about a young, deeply religious boy named Paul who was trying to cure his own homosexuality. The story starts when Paul befriends a young Christian transfer student named Manuel who is openly and proudly gay. All of Paul’s preconceived notions about homosexuality, and the more famously used Bible verses to refute same-sex relationships, are put in a different perspective, until he is finally able to accept himself for who he is. This book made me realize that you don’t have to either be gay or be Christian. Religion and sexuality are only in conflict if people are taught that they are in conflict. All of my fears and sense of self-loathing vanished in a single sentence:

“The Bible was meant to be a bridge, not a wedge. It must be read with love as the standard. Anyone who expects a person to change something as personal as who they hold in their arms at night need to change their own judgmental attitude.”

If anyone reading this has ever struggled or is struggling with sexuality and religion, I hope it helped at least a little bit. Thanks for reading.