Yes, it's been a long, long time....

...and I will eventually share a summary of all that has gone on over the last two months. Right now, I'm just trying to "pull the nose up" and pull out of the flat spin I've been in for, oh, months.

But there is good news.

In blog-surfing, I discovered RocketKid's blog. A young gay man who is "out" at a Christian college. A guy who seems to have surmounted, at his tender age, all the BS I bought into for so many years. And a great vlogger (video-blogger, for those of us on the late-adopter end of the scale.)

He went to a wedding of a friend - a good friend. And yet the friend's family were of that conservative Christian ilk who see gays as the enemies of God, the enemies of marriage...just "the enemy." His friend's father was the officiating pastor at the wedding, and made sure to point out that the boy-n-girl were perpetuating God's will, while us fags were tearing it down, and so on.

And RocketKid was hurt. Again. By the church that he obviously wants to believe in.

I posted this on his blog, but I want to say it here, as well.

For a number of years, while I was waiting for God to "heal" me, I joined a bunch of men from my church...at Promise Keepers conferences.

Seriously.

Why? Because I loved the worship, I loved the music, I got high on the energy. As a person in recovery, I understood the need for constant repentance and recommitment to a spiritual life, and that was consistent with the PK message. Back then I'd decided, somewhere along the way, that I wasn't going to be gay, but I was going to be gay-affirming - a "let your light so shine before others" kind of thing. So I just let the anti-gay sewage flow in one ear and out the other. But part of it still stuck in my head and my heart, like maple syrup on a spoon. Yeah, "we" are acceptable to God as sinful folks, but "those folks"...oh, there won't be a fire hot enough for THAT crowd.

And it hurt.

It still does.

The problem is that so many so-called Christian ministries seem to need an enemy, a devil to drive people to God. Everyone knows that nothing promotes unity like a common enemy. And the GLBT community has fulfilled that role for years. We have been the "them" to the Christian "us" for so long that most Christian folks believe it as part of the gospel.

A friend of mine pointed out that being gay is not everything in my life - but it's a part of everything in my life. It would be like trying to take the beef out of beef stew. Even if you tried to pull out all the beef, the flavor of the beef has soaked into the carrots and potatoes and all the other vegetables in the soup. No matter what you taste in the soup, you'll taste the beef there, too. (We'll leave any off-color jokes about "pulling meat out" aside, won't we?)

Another friend said it would be like pulling all the blue threads out of a tartan-plaid fabric. Without those threads, the fabric would fall apart.

Nevertheless, I bought that lie for years - that my same-sex attractions were something I could stuff, bury, hide away somewhere. I wasn't sexually active, and wasn't really at risk of it - so who cared?

I did. God did. God made me this way. To hide this part of my life is insane.

My friend Tom said it best, especially here. The world needs to see us - all of us. When I started the coming-out process about 18 months ago, I knew I wasn't doing it because I'd found some gay dreamboat. I was doing it to be more open and honest with others. My prayer was that when the question came up, people who knew me would be able to say, "Hey - they're talking about Steve. And that's not how I know Steve..."

There's a t-shirt at a store called GayMart here in Chicago that says it all:

"We are your sons, your daughters, your mothers, your fathers, your neighbors, your coworkers, your friends. We are here to love - and we are here to stay."

Amen...

Stepping off the "great debate" train

Over here at Paradoxy, there is a fairly positive discussion of the infamous Levitical texts related to homosexuality. And part of me really wants to weigh in on that discussion, but I just couldn't bring myself to do it. It's not that I don't think people should speak to these passages. It's just that I've grown a wee bit tired of discussing the same six or seven texts (depending on whose list you use), and whether and how they are meant to exclude gays and lesbians from heaven.

Part of the reason I've tired of the debate is because the religious right insist on cherry-picking the Biblical commandments they want to enforce. It's the same old discussion - which parts of the Holiness Code are you going to enforce? (In fact, I need to post that wonderful list of the 10 questions about the holiness code we should all ask the religious right...I'll do that in this post immediately below.)

Another part of the reason I don't want to ante up to the discussion is that in the end, it's mostly futile. First, homophobia is a phobia - by definition, it's an irrational fear. One of the wisest things I've heard about combating homophobia since I've been out is this gay truism: You will never be able to logically or rationally argue someone out of a belief or fear that is, by definition, illogical and irrational. A war of words won't transform 99.44% of anti-gay forces, because they aren't responding to words, they're responding to fears and boogeymen.

But even more important is this truth: in the end, both the homo-haters and the homo-supporters appeal to different parts of the same book to justify their attitudes. This is at the heart of a short but extremely useful book by one of the few sane ELCA voices in this discussion: Craig Nessan's Many Members, One Body: Committed Same-Gender Relationships and the Mission of the Church. Nessan is a pastor and theologian at Wartburg Theological Seminary in Dubuque, IA, and he wrote this book (at least in part) to help inform the discussions concerning homosexuality and same-sex ordination at the ELCA national assembly in 2005 (and beyond, since nothing was decided in 2005...)

Nessan suggests that the Old Testament writers had no knowledge of sexual orientation, versus sexual preference - any more than they understood astrophysics when they wrote that the earth was the center of the universe. So the concept of a created, inborn desire for the same sex was impossible for Biblical writers to understand. And the concept of committed same-sex relationships was an impossibility in a world where property and the social order depended on siring male heirs.

You see, I will agree with Levitical writers and with Paul - from a "survival of the people of God" standpoint, hetero men jumping the tracks and having sex with men, back then, was a bad idea - for the same reason that risking eating improperly cooked pork was a bad idea. The "people of God" weren't gonna last long that way.

But what the religious right refuse to acknowledge is the fact that for a number of men and women, they have not "exchanged natural relations for unnatural ones" (Romans 1:26) because they never had those "natural" desires to begin with. Those men and women never "abandoned natural relations" with the opposite sex - for them, those desires were simply absent, from the beginning.

Trying to enforce those rules on homosexuals today makes no more sense than having church officials persecuting NASA employees for saying the earth revolves around the sun. We simply know better, now. And the conditions that threatened the survival of the nomadic tribes of Israel simply no longer apply.

The trouble, Nessan says, is that both sides of the debate are appealing to different parts of the Bible, and both hold the Bible in esteem (though certainly to different standards), what you have is two mutually-exclusive hermaneutics - two completely irreconcilable ways of understanding the Bible and "those passages" in particular. And so both sides stand on either side of the Biblical chasm, shouting at the other side, who could care less about what's being said.

Nessan suggests that that at the level of "love God, and love your neighbors," both sides are essentially "one body, with many members." He makes the pitch that, if we aren't going to split the church over caring for the poor, and we aren't going to split the church over abortion, just war, divorce, hospitality to strangers and/or any of a hundred other topics that Jesus felt were more central to following him, then why should we even consider splitting the Body of Christ over homosexuality? Why can't we simply agree to disagree, as we have with these other topics? Why aren't we spending our time pointing people to Jesus, rather than focusing on this relatively small segment of the population?

Unfortunately, once again, this is a rational approach to an irrational fear. And the religious right has built up those irrational fears through outright lies and half-truths, turning gay men into predatory monsters bent on overthrowing the social order of straight Christianity. They need an enemy, and they've targeted gays and lesbians as the focus of their ire.

So I'll encourage my friends to carry on the discussion - when they find the occasional Christian who really want to hear facts an understand, rather than just shout at the "homos" and "fags." For me, I will sign up with the author of this great quote:

The Church says that the Earth is flat. But I know that it is round, because I have seen the shadow on the moon, and I have more faith in a shadow than in the Church. (Ferdinand Magellan)

Ten questions for the religious right

1) When I burn a bull on the altar as a sacrifice, I know it creates a pleasing odor for the Lord (Lev 1:9). The problem is my neighbors. They claim the odor is not pleasing to them. Should I smite them?

2) I would like to sell my daughter into slavery, as sanctioned in Exodus 21:7. In this day and age, what do you think would be a fair price for her?

3) I know that I am allowed no contact with a woman while she is in her period of menstrual uncleanliness (Lev 15:19-24). The problem is, how do I tell? I have tried asking, but most women take offense.

4) Lev. 25:44 states that I may indeed possess slaves, both male and female, provided they are purchased from neighboring nations. A friend of mine claims that this applies to Mexicans, but not Canadians. Can you clarify? Why can't I own Canadians?

5) I have a neighbor who insists on working on the Sabbath. Exodus 35:2 clearly states he should be put to death. Am I morally obligated to kill him myself?

6) A friend of mine feels that even though eating shellfish is an Abomination (Lev 11:10), it is a lesser abomination than homosexuality. I don't agree. (After all, have you seen what whole shellfish look like?) Can you settle this?

7) Lev 21:20 states that I may not approach the altar of God if I have a defect in my sight. I have to admit that I wear reading glasses. Does my vision have to be 20/20, or is there some wiggle room here?

8) Most of my male friends get their hair trimmed, including the hair around their temples, even though this is expressly forbidden by Lev 19:27. How should they die?

9) I know from Lev 11:6-8 that touching the skin of a dead pig makes me unclean, but may I still play football if I wear gloves?

10) My uncle has a farm. He violates Lev 19:19 by planting two different crops in the same field, as does his wife by wearing garments made of two different kinds of thread (cotton/polyester blend). He also tends to curse and blaspheme a lot. Is it really necessary that we go to all the trouble of getting the whole town together to stone them? (Lev 24:10-16) Couldn't we just burn them to death at a private family affair like we do with people who sleep with their in-laws? (Lev. 20:14)

Getting back in the saddle

I can't believe it's been more than a month since I've posted here. Yeesh.

I dunno why I stopped posting here - it's not like the "journey out" has stopped or I have somehow decided to go back into the closet. Anything but, in fact.

I have been on quite the self-discovery time - lots of reading, lots of reflection, and yet lots of bouts of deep "what the hell does it matter if I'm out?" kinds of thoughts. There's probably lots to write about on that topic - but I think it's been part of a larger struggle with where my life is going, and what it will look like in the future. Certainly my work, and the enormous drain it has put on my life, was a big portion of that - and the good news is, I'm forcing myself to be more reasonable about the work-a-day portion of my life.

But I have to admit that there have been days - like today - when simply suiting up and showing up at the hallowed halls of The Job have been, well, a massive effort. I love the people, I love the challenge of some of what I do - but there is a sizeable component of my day-to-day work that I just really would rather not do. And when I get home, I don't want to do much of anything else. Cleaning, dishes, that kind of crap has been relegated to the "yeah, fine, who cares" region of my psyche.

I'm still struggling with that sense of depression - but having tried anti-depressants and found them desperately wanting (they work wonders for lots of folks, but did nothing for me) I have to believe the road out of my funk is going to be found in physical and spiritual therapy and healing.

I've found a whole bunch of new muses - and I started to write all about them, but realized quickly that this blog-post would turn into an epistle (about the size of the Biblical book of Romans), so that will have to wait. A quick snapshot of my reading list, though, shows the breadth of my blessings (and my expenditures with Amazon!):

-Wounded Prophet: A Portrait of Henri J.M. Nouwen by Michael Ford;
-Homosexuality in the Church: Both Sides of the Debate, edited by Jeffrey Siker;
three books by Chris Glaser:
-Uncommon Calling: A Gay Christian's Struggle to Serve the Church,
-Coming Out As Sacrament, and
-Coming Out To God: Prayers for Lesbians and Gay Men, Their Families and Friends;
-The Lord Is My Shepherd and He Knows I'm Gay, by Rev. Troy Perry (founder of the Metropolitan Community Churches);
-Stranger at the Gate: To Be Gay and Christian in America by Mel White, former ghost-writer to many conservative Christians and now one of the directors of SoulForce; and
-Is the Homosexual My Neighbor? A Positive Christian Response, the classic 1978 text by Letha Dawson Scanzoni and Virginia Ramey Mollenkott.

The preface to Is the Homosexual My Neighbor? is worth the cost of the book by itself. Letha Dawson Scanzoni is a straight woman, and Virginia Ramey Mollenkott is a lesbian, and the preface tells how the book grew out of the conflicted feelings each had when Mollenkott came out to Scanzoni while working on another book project.

Mollenkott "remembered the color draining from Letha's face in shock over the revelation, the news having been a total surprise" (remember, this book was first published in 1978, when being out was still pretty new stuff). Virginia mentioned her friend's expression in a letter, which Letha took exception to (thinking that Virginia felt rejected, when there had been no intention of it). Virginia's words in a letter back to Letha are instructive:

...for me it is a dreadful thing to know that I am a person who can cause such trauma to a good and decent and loving Christian person. I did not say, nor have I ever thought, that you went pale in condemnation of me. It is the fact that I have to turn you pale at all that is distressing to me...

...No matter WHY you went pale, to me it is awful to be the sort of person who has to deliver such psychic blows to another Christian in the process of being honest about who I am. I was talking about my identity, my wish that I could be acceptable without trauma to others...I was trying to express my inner agony at being a person who is not acceptable until after another person I admire has gone through all kinds of painful changes in order to be able to accept me without deserting their moral standards...I was saying that I wish I had been created acceptable. It isn't your fault I was not.

Those few words really crystallized my own internal struggles about coming-out. I've come to believe that I, by myself and by God's grace, am acceptable. But I've also come to the realization that more than a few of my friends (especially those in the church) probably had a similar reaction (though I haven't known, since many of my "outings" have been by mail or email). And I have to admit that I resent having to break down the barrier of inculturation and prejudice that has grown up thanks to the religious right and others, supposedly in the name of God.

[:::end mini-rant:::]

This weekend is going to be insane. Kind of as bookends are two events that my emplooyer is helpng to sponsor. One of the reasons I was drawn to The Job is that there is a considerable effort on the part of my employer to openly support GLBT causes. As a result, there is actually a workplace PrideAlliance employee group that has more than 200 members, and a co-worker said, "Why aren't you a PrideAlliance member?" So I got on the mailing list, and about 2 days later, we got two different invitations.

The Out&Equal 2006 Workplace Summit will be in Chicago in September, and my employer is one of the sponsors of the conference. There is a reception this coming Friday evening - at the Hyatt Regency Chicago, of all places - for the sponsors and organizers, and my employer has invited members of the PrideAlliance to attend. There will be boring speeches by folks from Da Mayor's office, but it should be fun nonetheless. My first gay social event!

And then on Sunday, The Employer is treating us to a fundraiser for the Center on Halsted, the gay community center that will open up in Boystown in early 2007. The fundraiser is a champagne brunch at Sidetrack, a gay video bar known for their Sunday afternoon show-tunes. We'll see what happens there...I know enough to stay away from the champagne, but as Tom & Damien pointed out to me, it will be a fabulous chance to mix and mingle and just see gay life away from the Queer As Folk stereotypes.I don't know any of the 8 folks who will attend (they're all from our Up North office) but it should be fun, nonetheless.

In between, the good/sad news is that Michael and Damien's move to Wisconsin Dells will finalize Saturday at noon. In a fit of insanity, I'm going to follow their rent-a-truck up to the Dells, just to help them with the last few big pieces of furniture, and to see their new place up in the Land of Ten Thousand WaterParks. But I'll have to scoot pretty early on Sunday AM in order to get back for the brunch.

Several people have questioned my sanity at a four-hour drive on each end of that trip in less than 24 hours. But I love to just get out and drive, at least once we get outside of the city of Chicago (especially since I got the iPod - listening to some of my music collection that has just been collecting dust). And I never have made it up to Tom's farm during the construction phase, so it seems right to get up there this weekend, even if it means I'll need a weekend to recover from the weekend (especially before Hell Week at The Job).

That's it...I've got to get to bed - trash day is just a few short hours away But I want, and need, to keep my thoughts flowing as I keep on going down this river of gay life. And this is a good start!

An anniversary, and a remembrance

A disclaimer - this is not a fun or comfortable posting. If you're offended by hearing (even indirectly) about men having sex, this posting is not for you. Those few parts are not particularly graphic, but they are fairly central to the story.

If you're still with me, read on...

From the time that I moved to Ohio in 1973, Skip was my best friend. We were two semi-outcasts - he because of his lack of height, me because of my weight and my transfer-student status. Yet somehow we found each other, and we found our niche in high school together first in theatre, then in marching band and choir. We were what Dan Fogleberg would later call "twin sons of different mothers."

Skip and I double-dated a lot - he was always much more successful with women than I ever was - and we became best drinking buddies as well. After high-school, I started off to school (on what turned out to be an eight-year bachelor's degree) and he went off on an abortive career as a vacuum-sweeper salesman and various other kinds of scams. He married his high-school sweetheart in 1977, while I tried and failed a number of times to have successful relationships with females.

In late 1982, after an evening of highly-successful drinking, we ended up together at the home of friend where I was "house-sitting." Our inhibitions were already down, and we ended up in the same king-sized bed in the one heated bedroom in the house. One thing led to another, and we ended up exchanging oral sex. Neither of us were black-out drinkers - so the next morning, we both knew what had happened, but we tiptoed around the subject as if a rhinoceros was in the bedroom with us. We had breakfast, and he went back to his soon-to-be-ex-wife in Columbus.

Over the next year, we had maybe half-a-dozen more oral encounters, all under the influence of alcohol. Either one of us would initiate sex, so it was not one-sided in any way. And we both clearly enjoyed it - although it seemed that Skip was increasingly more uncomfortable about it when we were sober. When I met my soon-to-be wife, I'm pretty sure that our playtimes stopped (there might have been one more encounter before I got married, but I honestly can't remember for sure).

After all, I was intent on being a faithful husband - because that's what I believed "normal" men were supposed to do. I can't say that I stopped fantasizing about sex with Skip, and there were times when I wished we had just had the guts to speak the truth about how we felt about each other. Then, in my fantasy, we'd ditch our respective relationships, take things "all the way" to intercourse (which Skip had hinted at wanting to do) and just choose to be together with each other. By that time, he was divorced - but I was still married (and a coward), and that was that.

Flash forward six years. Both our lives were in the throes of end-stage alcoholism, though neither of us really believed that. Skip, I later found out, was also involved with cocaine and new age "spirit channeling," which was taking him down darker and darker roads. Both of us were in desperate financial straits, spending way more than we were earning, and trying to look "normal" while doing it.

Two weeks before Easter 1990, Skip showed up at my house with a bottle of Drambuie (a long-standing birthday tradition for us) and a really heavy heart. As we sat on the front steps of my recently-acquired house in West Toledo, he poured out his troubles - how his finances were falling apart, how he was having trouble performing at work, how his new girlfriend (another childhood sweetheart) was souring on him, and how his parents and grand-parents had completely rejected him (the girlfriend was black, and Skip's family was pure redneck).

Unfortunately, I had no experience, strength or hope to share with him. I told him, "Skip, I've got no answers for you. I'm probably about 8 months away from bankruptcy myself; my marriage is completely on the rocks; I've got a four-inch hole in my leg from a lesion that was at least partly caused by my drinking; and my family really doesn't care whether I live or die, right now."

I was so wrapped up in my own struggles and shame that I couldn't hear his desperation, couldn't see his despair. We sat on the front steps, side-by-side, and commiserated a while longer. Out of the blue, Skip said, "Yeah, things are so bad between [the girlfriend] and I that nothin's happenin' between us. Hell, she won't even give me a blowjob any more." (Not surprisingly, my own sexual activity had fallen off in similar fashion.)

So I poured a little more Drambuie into his glass, smiled at him, and said (at least half-jokingly), "Well, at least THAT'S something I could help you out with..."

The rest I remember in slow-motion - Skip leaping up off the step, turning and facing me with this look of horrified shame, his expression and body-language almost shouting, "How the fuck could you possibly have said that out loud?"

He stared at me a moment longer, then set his glass down on the step in silence, turned and walked to his van, got in and drove away without another word. As I watched his van roll down the street, I remember distinctly two sentiments: one, that I was so terribly sorry he had been offended by what I had said; and two, that part of me really wished he had taken me up on my offer.

I had no idea that he had gone home that night, packed up a dozen things he had of value, and spent a week traveling around Ohio, handing his treasures over to friends and family members. I had no idea how mentioning our shared sexual history was the absolute final straw for Skip, coming hours after his grandfather (whom he adored) told him that so long as he had "that niggah girlfriend," he would never be welcomed in their house again.

But a week later, he drove back into Toledo very, very drunk. And shortly before dawn on April 8, 1990 - Palm Sunday - he knelt down next to a tree beside a jogging path at the Wildwood Metropark in Toledo, pressed a .38 caliber pistol to his chest, and pulled the trigger.

The bullet did not pierce his heart, as several of his suicide notes said he planned to do. It severed his aorta, and (according to the police report) he spent several minutes thrashing around on the ground, drowning in his own blood, alone.

He was 33.

I had been up all night chaperoning a youth-group overnighter in South Toledo. I hadn't even known Skip had left town, and as I remember it, the first hint of trouble I got was when his girlfriend called my house to ask if I knew where Skip was. About an hour later, she called back, and asked me if I could drive her downtown. It seemed a jogger had discovered Skip, and they needed her to come down and identify the body. All the way downtown, we both hoped and prayed it was a case of mistaken identity.

It was no mistake.

It was even more devastating when I found out that his girlfriend, several of his friends, his ex-wife and each of his family members had received suicide letters, postmarked the day before he died. Because of everyone he knew closely, the only person who didn't get a letter was me.

I remember thinking at the time, "Well, evidently Skip believed I had all the information I would need about why he killed himself."

It took me several years before I could forgive him for that. But in fact, when my own life self-destructed in December 1990, the only reason I couldn't kill myself was because I knew that while it would take me out of any hope of a solution, it wouldn't clear up any of my problems. That simple knowledge, as painful as it was, was also a saving grace for me.

The first time I could find even a smidgeon of peace about Skip's death was at two years sober, being asked to be an AA sponsor by a 19-year-young man - and having him admit to me how often he felt shame over his own "close encounters with the same sex." And as he sat there, dejected, waiting for my judgement on him, I could share with him what happened as a result of my own same-sex encounters - and what they cost me. And out of our shared pain and shame came healing. A few months later, a fellow still in high-school and newly sober did the same thing - and a little more of the pain and shame went away.

It took several more years to admit how angry I had been at Skip for cutting off the chance for us to live together in sobriety. And it has only been in the last two years that I have been willing to admit how much I wished I'd had the chance to be honest with him about how I felt about him, emotionally and physically.

A little over a week ago was my first out "belly-button birthday." I've had the opportunity to tell this story several times in the last six months, and each time I've told it, I've found new strength and new healing.

So on this anniverary date, it seems appropriate to put this story out - if for no other reason than to tell anyone else who might have similar shame or pain about their sexuality this important truth:

No matter how far your life may seem to have disintegrated, no matter how many friends and family have rejected you because of your homosexuality, believe this: your life, your love and your story are valuable - both to God, to those who love you, and to others who need to hear your story.

The God of my misunderstanding was waiting for me with arms open wide, when I finally was willing to admit the truth about myself. And I trust that the same God will be there for you, as well.

If even one person hears that message, and chooses to go on living as a result, the pain of sharing this story will have been worth it.

So, all these years later, I need to say these things:

I love you, Skip....still. And I miss you, still. A lot of the hurt, and the anger, is gone - and I have to admit that there are sometimes multiple weeks that can go by without a thought of you. But I still wish you were here.

I'd loved you far more that a brother - even back then.

And I really, really wish I'd had the balls to get honest with myself and with you, and tell you that out loud, before you died.

I wish you could have held on long enough to find out that there was hope, and sobriety, and healing, for the two of us - regardles whether we were together or apart. You'll never believe all the times that I'll hear a song, or have some experience and say, "Damn, I wish you were here for this..."

I still believe those hopes are valid and true for me, today. And I trust that there will be another man - or men - with whom I can share my heart and my body the way I wish I could have with you.
Love,
Steve

It's no longer about passing a test...

I saw the test (below) on several fellow coming-out-bloggers' sites, and thought it would be fun to take it.

Of course, I also took one of these online tests to see which Dr. Seuss character I was, too. I'm not sure that scale necessarily defined my character or personhood, either.

I'd not heard of the Klein scale before, so Tom's explanatory notes were helpful. Of course, he also said that "Simple-minded categories are for rabbits, in my opinion."
(He says a lot of things "are for rabbits," for that matter. In fact, he's always talking abou rabbits. I'll have to get him to explain the reference on that one. Are rabbits for gay men like gerbils, only bigger?... Inquiring minds want to know.)

I do agree that "fitting in" is (for me, at least) becoming less of a driving force - and I don't need some online test to tell me I'm gay. I know that for a fact. And taking the test was not an indication that I was seeking proof or acceptance by "scoring well" on someone's theoretical scale of fagitude. Thank God, I am well past that.

::::comic-strip sound-bite: "I yam what I yam, an' tha's all that I yam." ::::

Not a surprising score...

Well, this wasn't much of a surprise:

Klein Sexual Orientation Grid

I scored an average of 4.14

0

1

2

3

4

5

6

Heterosexual

Bisexual

Homosexual

Meaning

This result can also be related to the Kinsey Scale:

0 = exclusively heterosexual
1 = predominantly heterosexual, incidentally homosexual
2 = predominantly heterosexual, but more than incidentally homosexual
3 = equally heterosexual and homosexual
4 = predominantly homosexual, but more than incidentally heterosexual
5 = predominantly homosexual, incidentally heterosexual
6 = exclusively homosexual

Summary

The idea of this excercise is to understand exactly how dynamic a person's sexual orientation can be, as well as how fluid it can be over a person's lifespan. While a person's number of actual homo/heterosexual encounters may be easy to categorize, their actual orientation may be completely different. Simple labels like "homosexual", "heterosexual", and "bisexual" need not be the only three options available to us.

Take the quiz

Given the fact that I was married for more than six years, and deeply closeted for 30 years, it would be kinda tough (especially given the weight given in this test for the past) to score much higher, I'd guess.

I definitely feel more of a 5, though. After all, there are some disqualifying conditions which would forever prevent me from pinning the Gayometer (being fashion- and decor-impaired, and not being young, attractive, height-weight proportionate, or well-endowed enough). But there are some definitely OGT's _(obviously gay traits) [hat-tip to The Broken Hearts Club for the term]:

- Having videos from both Bel Ami and Falcon studios
- Knowing why they call Lukas Ridgeston "Lucky Lukas"
- Having a significant aversion to all team sports
- Owning more than 1 Barbara Streisand or Carpenters album

And, of course, being really turned on by attractive men....

A public response to an anonymous comment

Isn't it nice when a person's comments on a post exactly prove the point you'd been trying to make?...

A person who identifies themselves only as "NCS" said that they "noticed a lot of things I wanted to respond to."

Well, there are a few things I'd like to respond to, as well...the commenter's words will be in italics, from now on...

One thing that sticks out like a sore thumb is that you basically do not believe the Bible at all. You are putting what YOU think and feel and what your body feels above the Word of God.

One thing that sticks out repeatedly in your commenting is the amazingly arrogant assumption that you know what I believe.

Did you happen to catch the item - in my very first post - that said that I'd been completely celibate (no sex whatsoever) since 1994?? Do you think I could have done that without the help of God? What sorts of thoughts and prayers do you suppose I was "feeding myself" in order to set myself apart from any kind of intimate contact? I sure wasn't getting that out of Out magazine...

I had several friends that were Christians, went into homosexuality then LEFT it, got married but even they will tell you they sought the Lord for deliverance for this reason: because they knew it was SPIRITUALLY wrong and they WANTED TO PLEASE THE LORD. Anything you feed will GROW.

It's interesting...I've had the similar experience, in reverse, it seems...

I have several friends who still think they are Christians, but are in fact sodomites. Oh, they are married, and blissfully heterosexual in all their physical activities. But they were sodomites, nonetheless - not according to what most folks think about Sodom in tradition, but according to the word of God. They, too, knew that their behavior was "SPIRITUALLY wrong" - but they just didn't care about "pleasing the Lord." Still don't, for that matter.

Because, you see, they come to church in their Lexuses and Infinitis and Land Rovers, wearing Rolex watches and $1,000 suits, and they mouth pious sewage about loving the Lord all the while. But they refuse to contribute a nickel to the food-pantry, the metro-area housing projects, or other efforts to care for the poor and downtrodden. And they certainly would never actually go down there to help.

And you see, my Bible is very clear about the sin of Sodom:
" 'Now this was the sin of your sister Sodom: She and her daughters were arrogant, overfed and unconcerned; they did not help the poor and needy.'" (Ezekiel 16:49)

What do you suppose those Christians were feeding themselves?....

So much of what I read on your site says this: "I will place my own body,what I feel and my personal experience above the Word of God."

No - on this site I haven't done anything of the kind. How could I have remained celibate for a decade, if I were placing my body above the word of God?

What I have done is try to reconcile Scripture and my own experience. How can a God who "knew me before I was knitted in the womb" allow enough stitches to drop to make me this way? Because, you see, I had to be created this way. I never chose this - who in God's name would? And I never abandoned anything.

(Well, that's a lie. I abandoned my natural homosexual state long enough to be married for six years, waiting for God to fix me. But I sure never abandoned what you would call "natural desires," because I never had 'em to begin with.)

I am not trying to wound you! But God set down principles for us to live by. Basically, He says: 'do it My Way.'

You're absolutely right. God does say, "Do it my way." But I'm not sure you're seeing what God thinks "it" is...

Let's look to the Scripture, for instance, and see how we are supposed to be treating those who are outside of the community of faith (which seems to be where gay people end up):
The alien living with you must be treated as one of your native-born. Love him as yourself, for you were aliens in Egypt. I am the LORD your God. (Leviticus 19:34)

He defends the cause of the fatherless and the widow, and loves the alien, giving him food and clothing. And you are to love those who are aliens, for you yourselves were aliens in Egypt. (Deuteronomy 10:18-20)

Sounds just like our current so-called "Christian" nation's approach to broken families and immigrants, doesn't it?

Well, we can skip all that, can't we? After all, none of that stuff actually applies anymore, right? It's Old Testament stuff...all that law stuff has been fulfilled in Christ. So let's look at the New Testament...

"Teacher, which is the greatest commandment in the Law?" Jesus replied: " 'Love the Lord your God with all your heart and with all your soul and with all your mind. This is the first and greatest commandment. And the second is like it: 'Love your neighbor as yourself.' All the Law and the Prophets hang on these two commandments." (Matthew 22:36-40)

You know, I've checked 4 different translations - and not one of them says "love your straight neighbor as yourself." Has the Christian church acted in a loving way toward their gay and lesbian neighbors? Hmmm...might have to uncheck that box...

And we won't even get into Matthew 25:31-46, which Jesus tells us is going to separate the sheep from the goats.

In short, there are supposedly 7 texts about homosexuality - about which there is a significant amount of debate on whether the true intent is "people with homosexual orientation," which was unknown in the Biblical world, or if it was "straight people forsaking normal passions" (Romans 1).

But there are LITERALLY HUNDREDS of verses in this sacred Scripture on which there is no question about the stated intent - and about which the straight Christian church has failed to act, consistently, for two thousand years.

All I'm going to suggest is that before you go pickin' at the splinter in my eye, you'd best attend to the log in your own. Somebody important had something to say about that, too...

How can you say to your brother, 'Let me take the speck out of your eye,' when all the time there is a plank in your own eye? You hypocrite, first take the plank out of your own eye, and then you will see clearly to remove the speck from your brother's eye.(Matthew 7:4-5)

Jesus said: 'if you love me, KEEP my commands')and so he can show forth His holiness and goodness in us.

Absolutely. And I think the gay and lesbian community would be delighted if so-called Christians would just stop being so damn selective about which commandments we're ALL gonna follow.

And many foster homes these days are VERY nice...not all are like the stuff you see in the media.

Really? Come to Chicago and show me. I was a youth advisor for years, and got to see first-hand what loving, caring Chrstians did to kids in those "nice" foster homes. Or talk to my friend Norma, the social worker and Methodist minister in Kansas City. Tell us about how nice foster homes are...

Also, the average length of gay partnerships is 5 years or LESS. And in 20 years I have yet to be in a 'happy' gay home. There is usually a lot of power struggles going on.

Well, I can't address the 5-year statistic - because there are very, very few legal "gay partnerships." No such thing as gay marriage, you know. But isn't it interesting that the states which have allowed gay partnerships have the lowest rates of divorce, and those who have explicitly forbidden gay partnerships so far have the highest rate of straight divorce, and the highest rates of child abuse, in the nation? "They'll know we are Christians by our love," eh?

If you have yet to be in a "happy" gay home in 20 years, all I can say is, you need to get out more. Since, by definition, the number of children in "gay homes" is virtually nil, it follows that all the physical and sexual abuse going on is in straight people's homes - nor are those kids in foster care ending up there because of the breakup of gay marriages.

I intend no condemnation here..but for years, you fed all those desires and they grew and now they are ruling you and coloring all your current experiences.

How can you possibly know what I have fed in my heart? How can you say that, not knowing the number of hours I have knelt in tearful prayer, begging God to "heal" me, make me straight, and fix me? How can you question my sincerity, not having known what Gethsemanes I have experienced? Can you really be that arrogant, to claim to know my heart and my experience from a few blog entries?

And as for being "changed" or "healed," I have come to believe that I am being "changed into His likeness" - being healed of the self-hate and self-loathing I have lived with for 30 years.

You obviously "understand" nothing - and your ability to judge me, and my beliefs, and my history, based on this particular rant is absolutely unbelievable.

How dare you even pretend to profess to know what I believe and what I don't! If I didn't believe the central promise of Christ, his death and resurrection for my sins (and yours), I would have taken my own life in despair a dozen times over by now. My hope is built on Christ alone - regardless of who I sleep with (or don't, in this case), who I vote for, or anything else. Check out 1st Cor. 15:3-8, if you need to see my own personal credo.

I could go on, but I suspect it won't even prompt you to read any of my own backstory - let alone believe any of it. So I'm just going to leave it be.

Your comments, however, have become the perfect proof-text for everything I'd written in my earlier post. I appreciate that more than you'll ever know.

Tired of Christians, tired of Christianity

On the ride back from Kansas to Chicago two weeks ago, I had the chance to for several extended conversations with Tom, who has been alternately mentor, shepherd and border-collie on my journey out of the closet. One conversation was on the to-Kansas side of the trip, just catching up. But I had two conversations with him - one while I was there, and one on the way home - discussing the various coming-out encounters that I had during that extended weekend.

During one call, as I told him about my encounter with my friend and former pastor (who recommended that I consider what Exodus International might have to offer to me), Tom said, "At some point you're going to have to address the harm that the Christian church has done to you, and how they've screwed with your head for so many years. I know you've got the tools to deal with all the resentment, and I know you'll get to it. Just know that it's coming..."

(He probably used some more colorful language than that, come to think of it.)

Well, that process started in earnest over the last couple weeks, and really came to a head starting Thursday, I think. A number of things happened that really got me to resenting Christians and Christianity a bunch.

First, two horrific stories on GeekBoi's site just absolutely appalled me. This one, where a gay man died because a cop wouldn't allow anyone to give him mouth-to-mouth resusitation, was awful...the kind of thing that movies like "Billy Jack" and "Walking Tall" were made of. People who would rather let people die or rot in jail rather than even consider their vicious little stereotypes have always infuriated me.

But it was this posting, describing the actions of Catholic Charities in the very Arch Diocese of Boston, who basically closed up the adoption activities of Catholic Charities, rather than risk any child being adopted by gay parents, that really got my ire going.

God damn their pious bullshit!!

How dare they speak of the all-encompassing love of God, and yet consign homeless children to unending foster-home care rather than even consider the possibility that a couple of loving, caring, committed homosexuals might adopt them!

GeekBoi's words are so much clearer and to-the-point than mine would be that I'll just point you there. (You preach it, brother.)

But the real frosting on the cake was not in Christians rejecting homosexuals - but in one man accepting me, exactly as I am.

When my seminary career ended, I started a blog where I spent a lot of time (and way too many words) wrestling with God's will for me, given that His church didn't want me as a candidate for ministry (long before I came out to anyone!). And in the process, I came across a pretty fair number of loving, caring Christians who thought as I thought, and who seemed to understand God as I was coming to understand God. So far, I have kept that blogging community and this one pretty separate - largely because I hadn't come out to several family and close friends who frequented my "other" blog.

One of them, my friend Chris, is one blogger who I've actually met face-to-face a year ago here in Chicago when he came in for a conference. A week or so ago, in posting to his blog, I realized I probably should be out to him, and sent him a brief coming-out email and a link to this site. In the email, I said that I didn't expect he'd have any problems with my announcement, but I was still we wee bit nervous, given the polarizing effect of GLBT issues in the church. His email back was instructive:

Steve,

I'm not polar on this issue and love you (still) as a result. I know that my attitude on homosexuality is polarizing among Christians, but I will stand before God on that one. I don't envy your process, but it changes nothing as far as my friendship and personal regards for you. Count on me to walk with you, talk with you, pray with you and quite frankly not consider the fact that you're gay to blip my radar.

After this week of banshee like screeching (otherwise known as term paper writing), I look forward to reading your intro posts.

I honor your honesty and respect you for "coming out" in an intimate way. Peace to you my brother...Jesus loves you. How odd, a Savior who loves the very people he died for...people like me.
Chris

There were many, many excuses I had for why I hid in the closet for so long. But I allowed my buy-in to Christian homophobia to keep myself hidden away in the closet, hiding my truth for the last fifteen years from people like Chris - folks who would have very likely accepted me anyway.

What a fucking, fucking waste. Sorry, but there's just no other way to say that.

By the way, in the middle of all this, I made the mistake of watching the DVD Priest. Don't get me wrong; it's a great movie. But the Amazon.com synopsis gives a hint as to my problem with it:

A Priest tries to reconcile his love for another man with his love for God, but when a girl steps into the confessional and reveals that her father sexually abuses her, he's frustrated by the laws of the church and questions his faith in a God who would allow this to happen.

It's a good story, but it's not a happy story, and it surely doesn't present organized religion in a light that says, "Gee, I think I need to go back to that!" Anything but, in fact...

The rainbow sprinkles on the frosting on the cake, so to speak, has been reading Jeffrey Siker's Homosexuality in the Church: Both Sides of the Debate. While it seems (so far) to be well-balanced between traditional and liberal views on homosexuality, I just find myself getting so damn weary of the Christian biblical party line, which is basically:

1) God made everything. Male and female he made them. Not Adam and Steve, but Adam and Eve. That's the way it works here - God built it that way. Get over it.

2) The bible has seven texts, five and a half of which condemn homosexual activity in varying ways (depending on how you read and translate them). Yes, we know, the Bible has just hundreds of verses about how we should be struggling for economic and social justice for the weakest among us, and and just as many about how we really ought to be treating folks with care and compassion - but we don't have to worry about that crap.

3) Yes, poverty, joblessness and miserable education have a devastating effect on family life everywhere. And yes, we keep claiming that our concern is with the family. But we're going to focus on you fags instead, because it's easier to go after a minority group than to pry those supposedly good, loving Christians away from what really matters - their SUV's, suburban houses, wallets and purses.

Yup, I think I've had enough of this particular group for a while....

Busted - and blessed

I need to wrap up my adventures in Kansas with two interesting encounters - one very unintentional, and one intentional - both of which turned out quite well.

On my way home, I met up with my friend Norma just north of KC in Liberty, MO. She was a fellow seminarian from KC whom I met in 1997 when I was first starting the whole part-time student thing at St. Paul School of Theology. She was one of the part-time/evening students, and we managed to pal around as part of a group of evening folk, frequently in each other's classes. We started dating around 2000 - just dinners and such, at first - and it became very clear that she really would have liked the relationship to go forward more than it was.

I wasn't completely clueless about my sexuality back then - but was definitely not ready to come out to my school and church. And although there was a great deal of affection between us, I just couldn't manufacture the desire or passion even to go past cuddling on the sofa - though I tried repeatedly. I tried to tell her at the time that it wasn't her - but she wasn't buying it, and she felt pretty rejected. The friendship recovered, and actually deepened over the years - but the relationship remained a pretty chaste one.

So, fast forward to the Kansas weekend. I'd arranged to meet Norma just for a casual lunch, and was also going to take advantage of the time to come out to her. As lunch was served, we were talking about stuff in her life and her work when down the aisle came this truly stunning-looking waiter - think Chris in Latter Days. And I did what my homo-mentor has been encouraging me to do - I looked. He and I locked eyes for just a moment, he smiled and walked on by...and I turned back to see Norma with this odd expression on her face. She asked, "What's up with that?" I must have blushed, and I muttered something about he looked like someone I knew. Norma gave me another weird look, and then said, "Steve...have you ever considered the possibility that you might be gay?"

Whoops. Busted. Big time.

"Actually, that was on the list to talk about today, Norma..."

"Oh, really...?"

It actually went pretty well from there - although the "Why haven't you said anything until now?" issue had her a little miffed. And there were some tears - at least a few of them healing, I hope - as I told her how much I'd wanted things to work out romantically between us, but I had just known that it wouldn't (even though I wasn't willing to admit, even to myself, why it wouldn't work).

I think it helped her to know that it was me, and not her, that was the breaking point in the romantic aspirations. She told me she knew that I loved her - that simple friendships would never have endured what we've endured - and I told her she was right. And as I left for Des Moines, she gave me a hug and a kiss on the cheek, and wished me well.

The visit in Des Moines, with my friend Nathan, was entirely different. I'd emailed him before I left, and linked him to this blog, and he emailed back to say, "Looking forward to seeing you." We had a delightful Lutheran-church-basement casserole dinner - pure comfort food - and we talked about everything under the sun except my orientation. And yet it didn't feel like "the rhinoceros in the living room" - we just talked about what was on our minds. And as I got in the car to leave, I had to wonder - was I avoiding the topic? Was Nathan? Or were things just that OK between us?

The answer came by email late last week:

I know that you are 'Steve.' Your new announcement is a scary thing to you, thus it can be so big. You are still the man who is my friend and the best man at my wedding, that has been successful. Nothing in our relationship has changed. It seems that even though you were not out at the time, you really have not changed since the day we met. You have just realized and accepted some things that are just are, since then.
Take care,
Nathan

As the old song goes, "Who could ask for anything more?"

At this point, I'm wondering what else to do in the circle of church friends. There's a circle of about a dozen folks at the level of "good friends that I care about, have significant history with, but don't keep in constant contact with." Most of them I won't see, other than funerals or weddings, and part of me says, "Who cares if they know?" But part of me says that I need to come out to them, perhaps, most of all. Because there's a number of them - loving, caring people who have supported me and encouraged me - who are nonetheless Promise Keeper members and Focus on the Family supporters, who probably need to at least hear my story, even if they don't want to agree with it.

Decisions, decisions. For now, though, I'm pretty content with where I am, and the journey so far. And that's a good feeling to know.

Baby-steps, and "Why are you doing this?"

First, to my blogging friends, my apologies. It has been a long and emotional week, and I have light-years to go to catch up with your writings. That's the goal for this weekend, anyway. So please be patient...I really have missed the chance to be able to stay connected with y'all.

Lots of baby steps on the road to Gayopolis - so get a cup of coffee and settle in...

I had not intended for this weekend to be a big coming-out time - as I wrote earlier, it was a weekend for the memorial for a friend, not discussions about my sexuality. But there were a couple folks who I was going to be able to see face-to-face for the first time since deciding to come out publicly, and it seemed like a good chance to come out to them while I was visiting in Kansas.

Friday night, I had a late-night coffee-n-conversation with my friend Eric, who I've mentioned a couple other times in this blog (here and here). It was his dad who died - and so we talked a while about how Eric was doing, and the events of having his dad die while he was out of town. He asked me about stuff about my spiritual life - where I was going to church (no one specific place), how I was doing, and so forth. But when a lull came in the conversation, near midnight, I said, "OK, I know this weekend is not about me, but while it's just us, I have one burning question I have to ask..." He raised one eyebrow and smiled, and I said, "So...you really weren't surprised?"

Turns out that Eric had more-or-less guessed my orientation back in 1997. Back in college, Eric's roommate Rick came out to him, and the two of them remained friends and roommates throughout their KU days. Rick came to stay with Eric's folks in late 1997, as part of recuperating from some surgery. During that visit, I'd met Rick, and evidently I asked Rick and Eric both about Rick's being gay, and how it affected their relationship. In the course of that visit, Rick had evidently asked Eric if I was gay, and Eric said I probably "had some tendencies in that direction." (Yeah, Eric...just a few...)

Eric asked an interesting question, though. As best I remember it, it was, "So really - why are you doing this? Most of the time, when people have come out to me, they are generally looking for approval of their adopting a homosexual lifestyle. Is that what you're looking for? And if not, why are you bothering?"

It's an important question - if only because in many ways I am coming out without the "carrot" of a same-sex relationship, and yet without the "stick" of gay-related disease. For a lot of straight folks, there would really be no other reason to come out. And (for better or worse) I have neither issue in my life, for now.

I gave this answer several times this weekend, when the question came up, and I think it's important to share it here:

"First, because I'm tired of living the lie, and having the folks who care about me not really know me. For me, my sexuality is a non-issue, in many ways - but it's a non-issue that I've expended incredible amounts of energy to hide from people. So the first part of this is simply about being honest - with myself, and with you. It's just easier to be open and honest."

"The second part is more general, if no less important: there is a very prevalent stereotype of homosexuals and the homosexual lifestyle that absolutely does not apply to 90% of the gay and lesbian folks I know. Everyone keeps talking about this 'homosexual lifestyle,' but so far I haven't received my Homosexual Lifestyle Starter Kit, with the hot cabana boy, crystal meth and and a spandex outfit. Maybe it was sent out, and I just wasn't there to sign for the delivery." (hat-tip to GeekBoi for that classic line...)

"But the only way that this stereotype is ever going to die is going to be when gay men like me are willing to step out of the closet and stop hiding their 'gay lifestyles,' which are so damn normal in so many ways!"

"The only way that people are going to come to understand gay life is when they realize the vast number of relationships that they already have with gay men and lesbians all around them. The fact is, it's simply harder to hate what (and who) you know."

"And especially in the Christian church, when people debate 'the homosexual question,' when my straight church friends think about them, I want them to think, Oh, yeah - they're talking about my friend Steve..."

So that's why I'm doing this. And Eric appreciated the answer, I think.

Of course, there is another side of this topic for me, as well.

To be rigorously honest, yes - I'd like to have at least a slice of the homosexual lifestyle. I'd love to have a host of gay friends to go along with the wealth of straight friends I already have, and (someday) a loving and intimate relationship with someone. And in the couple times I was asked this weekend, I didn't shy away from admitting it either. As I've half-jokingly said to several folks, while celibacy is non-fatal, it certainly isn't a lot of fun. (And, thankfully, it is ultimately treatable, given willing practitioners.) For so long, I'd resigned myself to living and dying alone. While I don't know what God has in store for me, I do hope I can find a way to do better than that, with God's help.

And so the weekend went. The conversation with Eric ended well; the conversation with my sponsor Barry on Saturday morning went well, and he ended up in the "well, I'm neither surprised nor unsurprised - but it changes nothing" column.

I had a particularly interesting discussion with one of the young men I'd sponsored in AA before I left - I'd come out to him earlier, via email and phone. But Ryan actually asked a question that floored me: "Now I know that while you sponsored me, you never put a move on me, and I trusted you with my life more than once. But now that you've come out to me, I have to ask you, strictly as a gay man: Do you think I'm attractive?"

Trust me - that was an "oh, wow..." moment. He had me flustered for a moment or two.

After all, as an AA sponsor, I've always believed that sponsorship relationships are really a holy calling - even more so than I'd ever thought of my calling to ministry. And at the time I was sponsoring this fellow, I'd thought myself so personally unattractive that even if I found him attractive, I knew for certain that whatever was there would never be returned, regardless of his orientation (which is definitely near zero on the Kinsey scale). So I'd never, ever thought of Ryan in that way.

Until then.

In fact, it kinda ruined any chance I'd ever have of sponsoring him again. Because yes, to me he is a rather attractive guy.

When I told him that, along with how uncomfortable it was to admit it, he smiled. "You know," he said, "my wife keeps saying things like, 'Those women better keep their hands off you,' and I've always wondered why she thinks I'd be attractive to other women. I just never ever believed it from her..."

And then he smiled, a little sheepishly, and said, "...but I knew you'd tell me the truth."

That brought tears to my eyes.

At dinner Saturday night, before the Sunflower Roundup AA conference, I was listening to my buddy Mike talk about some struggles he was having with various lady-folk, and I half-jokingly said, "That's where we're both alike - when it comes to relationships and sex, it's the same old three problems - 'too much, too little, wrong kind.' You do 'too much,' and I end up doing 'too little' and 'wrong kind.'"

Mike smiled, and said, "Oh, so you're finally gonna tell me you're gay, huh?"

Trust me – that was not the reaction I was expecting...

So, I hemmed and hawed, and finally said, "Well, yeah, actually, that was on the agenda..." He laughed, and said, "Bruce [my first Kansas AA sponsor] and I have been wondering for years when you were finally going to tell us!"

Yeah, Mike...well, it took a while to figure it out for myself, actually...

And that was pretty much the end of that.

Sunday morning was one of my more challenging encounters. I was staying with a friend and semi-retired Lutheran pastor - one who I'd been a ministry-partner with in my original Kansas congregation. He and his wife have been good friends over the last seven or eight years, and they have been some of my biggest supporters when I came to Chicago to seminary. They were two folks I'd hoped to have some time to have a talk with over the weekend, but my schedule and theirs had kept it from happening so far.

So it was a little surprise when, over coffee and orange juice Sunday morning, John said to me, "So, Steve...I've heard that you've been telling people that you're gay...and that it was on your web-site. But I went over to your site, and I couldn't find anything. Is this true?"

Well, that wasn't the way I'd intended to start that conversation, but that worked...

To make a long story less long, John works part-time at the church I'm still a member of back in Kansas, and he'd heard this from my senior pastor, to whom I'd come out via email back in November. Since I'd told Pastor Joe that I was going to be sharing this with several other folks in my circle of church friends, he evidently talked about it with John...which was entirely cool.

John and Judy were the first ones of my friends to suggest talking to Exodus International. Exodus had started out as an "ex-gay ministry," and for years supported efforts to convert people back from homosexuality to a hetero orientation. Over the years, their success rate has dwindled - several of their public "success stories" have in fact returned to "the lifestyle" - and so their focus has changed to getting people to accept their homosexuality as a special kind of spiritual challenge, and to help encourage them to live a celibate life.

In fact, I've talked to folks from Exodus a couple times - both back in the "God can change you" stage of the game and in the more recent "you can live with this and not sin" mode. John and Judy likened homosexuality to alcoholism - in both cases, it's important to accept that you never stop being what you are. But so long as you don't take the proscribed actions (either taking a drink, or engaging in same-sex relations), you can live just fine.

I pointed out to them that I already had the celibacy thing down pat - the first 12 years ought to have proved that - and that, as part of my former plans for ministry, I'd planned on living celibate for the balance of my ministry life. So the whole celibacy thing was a non-starter for me.

For me, the central issue is that I was made this way - I didn't wake up one day and turn to the "dark side" (no pun intended). My sexuality is hard-wired at the core of my being - period. There was no choice made to be gay - and I've done lots of prayers and crying out to God to not be this way. So either God is a cosmic Creator with a quality control problem (the One who says, "before you were knitted together in the womb, I knew you" who nonetheless evidently dropped a stitch or two) - or the way I am is part of the order of Creation.

In the end, they told me they loved me, that I was always welcome in their home, and that God was going to use me in powerful ways. They also gave me a video from the Exodus folks, which I actually agreed to watch. And I sent them a thank-you note for their hospitality, with a link to this blog. I hope they read it. I love them both dearly, and I hope they can come to understand (even if they don't agree).

There is much more I have to write about this weekend, as well as a post or two about the idea of God as Crazy-Boy, but I need to get dressed and out the door to work. But if you've made it this far, I have to say thanks for sticking with me. This is an amazing journey...

Being present, just as I am

I will be headed to Kansas City for a funeral this weekend.

Jerry Amundson, father of my dear friend Eric, died Tuesday night after three months of degenerative illness. Jerry and his wife Bev had been some of my biggest cheerleaders about coming to seminary in Chicago, and they and Eric's family were among my financial supporters when the bottom fell out of my life financially a year and a half ago. Jerry and Bev have been one of three sets of adoptive parents for me in my sober life the last fifteen years, and they've meant a lot to me.

While Jerry's death wasn't a surprise, it still was a shock. The one rule that everyone who knew him was sure of was, "Don't count Jerry out just yet." So there is a certain emptiness knowing our journey together is done, for a time.

There were a bunch of tears yesterday, as the reports came from the hospital in KC showed that Jerry probably wasn't going to make it, but I'm doing OK with it, now. Acceptance has come eaiser, knowing that he's lived a good life but was in absolute misery at the end. "Well done, good and faithful servant..."

Eric, Jerry's son, is one of about a half-dozen folks in our old church crowd that I'm out to. In fact, he's been one of the most openly accepting of my coming out (he's the guy who called me as "the cute boy from Hong Kong" during his last trip). I've been looking forward to him coming to Chicago for a business meeting, but that trip's been put off several times (due to weather and scheduling).

But there's a bunch of folks that I've not specifically outed myself to - including his parents - and I had a brief debate about having those encounters this weekend. On the one hand, it's an opportunity to come out face-to-face with some people that I love, which is good. On the other hand, I have significant evidence that the world really doesn't revolve around me, and this weekend (or whenever the memorial is held) is about Jerry and his family, not about me and acceptance of my orientation.

For now, I've settled the debate to just be present, to focus on the people and the events at hand - but not to hide if questions come up about girlfriends or "the next Mrs. F." It's the same way I've been dealing with things at work. I don't have to pull an Emmett Honeycutt routine to be out at work - but when we joke about relationships, I'm clear to talk about boyfriends rather than girlfriends, and with my one friend Sabina, who keeps saying "Have you got that straight?" (rather than "Do you understand?") I give her the classic line: "Honey, I don't even think straight, any more..." (And to her credit, she laughs every time.)

I'm guessing the same approach will work this weekend, too. Not camp, by any means - but not hiding, either. No purple scarf (that routine's already been taken) but maybe a pink tie to go with the black suit. Wish I could find a lapel pin like the rainbow "fish" symbol refrigerator magnet my homo-mentors got me, but I don't think I'll have time to go shopping in Boystown before I leave.

Cue the Gloria Gaynor music...

I am what I am
And what I am needs no excuses
I deal my own deck sometimes the aces sometimes the deuces
It’s one life and there’s no return and no deposit
One life so it’s time to open up your closet
Life’s not worth a damn till you can shout out
I am what I am

Amen, Gloria - you preach it, girl.

What and who I am is not how I look

Late last week, I had a long talk with a young man (ok, not that young...he's 33) who I used to sponsor in AA back in Kansas. He's been through some rough times, and we kind of lost touch. He'd heard through a friend that I'd come out, but we just hadn't talked since last August, when I was really getting ready to move out of the "private" phase and be more publicly out. So it was an interesting conversation...

He was every kind of supporting - delighted to hear about some of the steps I'd taken, curous (as many have been) about the "Why'd you wait until now??" question. Then, out of the blue, he asked, "So...have you met anyone? Anyone special in your life?"

I had to admit that it's only been in the last six or eight months that I've even allowed myself to look at other guys that way. And the standard excuses came out...too busy...too much work...not exactly a circuit boy...but they were half-hearted. And my young friend said, "Well, what are you waiting for?"

Damn good question, Jimmy...

Then, in the process of catching up with friend's blogs, I read Geek Boi's "general coming out" post, where he posted his picture. And I was really shocked...not by the picture (which is really quite nice, actually), but by the words. It was like my words were coming out of his post...

There's a part of me saying "Don't post your pic, don't cross the Rubicon. You're largely anonmyous -- you can always try to be straight later on if the pressure gets too much. Nobody needs to know that you're gay, nobody needs to know anything about you! Hell, you're not cute enough to be gay..." etc,etc ....This is also difficult for me as I have body image issues like you wouldn't believe. I can't help but stare at my picture and just see nothing but ugliness......

I read that and thought, "Sweet Jesus, someone's been reading my mind." Because, you see, I'm right there with ol' GB, folks.

I've been spending a lot of time this weekend thinking about this. I've got pictures of me in high school - and while no one would ever mistake me for a member of the gymnastics team, I was not that hideous a fellow. But I have always had this image of myself as the ugly duckling...and have always been waiting for the magic to happen, and turn me into the beautiful swan. (Hasn't happened, as of yet...) But remembering brought back this set of events that sort of cemented that ugly-duckling image in my head...

Back in my junior year of high school, I was invited to join an all-guys youth group. A group of us got to be good friends, drinking buddies (yes, Virginia, in high school), and hung around together a lot. While I was significantly less rotund than I am now, I really saw myself as horribly obese back then - and showers in gym class showed that I was well behind the curve on the male-endowment scale.

But somehow I fit in with this group of guys - a couple of whom were rather unattractive (even to my jaundiced eye) but most of whom were quite fit and attractive (in what seemed at the time to be a disturbing way). It was a strange mix of jocks and geeks and misfits of all kinds from across several school districts, and yet we still seemed to click in many ways.

One of the ways we'd blow off steam in the summer was going up to a cabin on Lake Erie near Vermillion, Ohio for the weekend. It wasn't much of a cabin - but it had beds, a TV, a flush toilet, and a refrigerator, which was just enough for eight or ten guys planning on spending a weekend drunk and goofing off. I was already an 80th-percentile alcoholic by that stage of the game - so the idea of a weekend drinking sounded like a good deal to me. And, as one of the three guys who were "of age" at the time, I was part of the "bucket brigade" for the weekend, which made me an essential part of the fellowship and guaranteed me an invitation and a comfy bed spot.

There was a lot of sleeping in, swimming, a lot of horsing around, and of course the requisite smuggled straight-porn mags (no porn tapes in those days - the VHS VCR wasn't introduced until later that year, Christmas 1977). (Yes, I'm that old). Sometimes we'd start off with a trip to Cedar Point (not much drinking those weekends until we got back from the Point, of course). But for the most part, it was just hanging around the cabin, the beach, and the barbeque.

After the first couple weekends, it sure seemed like several of my buddies were getting to be much closer with their youth-group brothers than I was. Though all but three of that group ended up well down toward the "zero" end of the Kinsey scale, you'd never have known it from the sounds coming from the sleeping bags on the beach, or the squeaking of the bedsprings in the cabin. Despite the complete absence of women, almost everyone (it seemed) was getting some on those weekends.

Everyone, it seemed, except me.

It was painful enough to know that my romantic life in high school had been pretty bland, never getting past third base with any girl (even my 2-year steady girlfriend). I knew I was no prize physically; but I also knew that these guys weren't going for "attraction" or "beauty"- they were just getting off with whoever was around.

Again - except me.

I started to understand how the red-nosed reindeer felt when "they never let poor Rudolph/play in any reindeer games." I started trying to work my way into the groups - joining them when they took their sleeping bags down on the beach - but when I did that, it seemed there was complete stillness until they thought I was asleep, and then the action slowly started, often with a couple sleeping bags pulled away a bit so they wouldn't wake me.

I remembered waking up one morning with a pounding hangover as the sun was coming up, to find two of my friends asleep on top of their sleeping bags, bare-ass naked and holding each other spoon-style. The lake breeze had picked up just a bit, and they were both covered with goose-bumps. Yet they both had this air of bliss about them, and I could see the navy-blue sleeping bag was sprayed with the dried remnants of the prior night's entertainment. Further down the beach, I could see what looked like two more sleeping-bags zipped together, and another pair of my friends snuggled together in what looked like an excess of "brotherly love."

I looked back at the naked pair in front of me, both turned on and infuriated by what I saw. Standing there, watching these two guys who I'd always considered to be my friends, I had this irrational desire to kick both of them until I smashed their naked ribs in. I remember wanting to find a large rock and smash their skulls. I don't think I'd ever before felt that kind of murderous mixture of envy, disappointment, rejection and rage.

I'd had the empty fear that I'd get old and be alone before, but I think that morning was when I decided that I was never going to be desirable to anyone, period. I eventually ended up having a series of one-nighters with my best friend (the first, and only, male "love of my life"), but only when both of us were drunk. Right about that time, I met a woman who found my personality attractive, and did not seem to find me physically distasteful. Even though I eventually married her, I still felt deep inside that I was truly unattractive and sexually not too competent. And that self-loathing, combined with my dark, skulking doubts about my masculinity, didn't do much for our intimate lives. By the time we divorced, any pretense of intimacy had long since vanished.

When I was first considering coming out, one of my arguments to Tom and Damien went like this: "Let's see...I could either be an overweight, greying, middle-aged, under-endowed gay man, and put myself in line for all the abuse gays get. Or I could be an overweight, greying, middle-aged, under-endowed straight man, and skip all the gay bashing and prejudice. Either way, I'm going to bed alone, it seems..."

That's why when I read GB's "Hell, you're not cute enough to be gay..." comment, it was like I got slapped with my own words.

I've since come to realize that being hot is part of the gay stereotype - which is perpetuated by us average gay guys staying in the closet. While a lot of gay men do look fabulous, being a duckling doesn't make me any less gay - or any less worthy of caring or a relationship. True, I'm probably not going to attract someone like this....at least, not without an offer of a lot of money...



(Ryan Carnes, from the great indie movie Eating Out)



But it doesn't mean I'm going to be alone for the rest of my life, either. It doesn't matter, in the end, what I look like. Being gay isn't about being attractive...I know that now. It's about a physical attraction to men - independent of how I look, or to what kinds of guys I'm attracted. And (though it took a while to see it) I'm now sure that, having come out to more and more people, there isn't any way I can go back into the closet - even if I wanted to. [Cue music: "I Am What I Am"]

But I definitely have to enlarge my gay social venues. Because of my schedule, I haven't had the chance to hang around much with my two favorite homo-mentors lately - and they're moving to Wisconsin Dells in the next month or so. So I've got to get out and get "out" with some of the gay natives - and at least find some friends.

Fantasy life to the contrary, I don't think I'm gonna be going out with Ryan Carnes any time soon- any more than any of my straight friends think they'll be makin' it with any of the Baywatch babes. But my hope (and my prayer) is that I'll find someone who can see past the outside and find some joy with the cuddly bear on the inside.

It'll be worth the effort - and the wait.

Trusting, loving, telling the truth

The closet is not where homosexuals hide - it is where the truth is hidden until we take it out into the light.

This quote is one of many truths that I've been reading, re-reading, and slowly digesting from Rob Eichberg's classic book Coming Out: An Act of Love. Published in 1990, Eichberg drew from the experience, strength and hope of gays and lesbians who participated in workshops called The Advocate Experience from 1978 to 1990. Despite being nearly 16 years old, it is an incredible resource for anyone who's going through the coming-out process.

Eichberg subtitled the book "An inspiring call to action for gay men, lesbians, and those who care." He does a good job of inviting the straight family and friends of people who are coming out into the process, pointing out where they can help and support the ones they love in their coming out process.

The core of Eichberg's work is simply this: the very core of love is honesty. Yet those of us who are closeted are hiding a central truth about ourselves from those we love - precisely out of fear of losing that love. The first section of the book talks about being gay, and the reactions to it. And it names two central fears of so many closeted GLBT's - if someone finds out who you really are, they won't love you anymore...compounded by feeling you are not even courageous enough to tell the truth. Those two fears helped me to refuse to even consider my true sexuality for years - decades, in fact.

But Eichberg's "inspiring call to action" is no less important - that perceptions about gays and lesbians will never change until the world knows who we really are. He writes, "By hiding your sexual orientation, you have contributed to the prevailing stereotypes of what it is to be gay." It's a message that I first heard from Tom and Damien as they encouraged me to take my first steps out of the closet - and one I'm glad that they ever-so-gently hammered home, because it's true in more ways than I could have imagined.

There's lots more that I'm going to reflect on from this book - lessons I'm learning, and relearning at this point. But for now, the work-a-day (and night) world is calling. But there's more to come...

They should have known all along...

(Me at 3 years old, in a dashing homemade outfit.)

Yup, that's me.

Notice the smile?
That's what I'm trying to recapture.

The beautiful blond hair is now a slightly flatter blond with tinges of gray... there's no way (short of Clairol or Grecian Formula) to recover the hair. But it's the childlike joy that I'm going for, though. The smile and the eyes that say, "Anything is possible." This will be my avatar, I think, for quite a while.

(But yeah, from that outfit alone, they should have known how I'd turn out...)

There's lots to write about - lots more than I have time to write today. There's a series of posts that will be devoted to my experience with the book Coming Out: An Act of Love by Rob Eichberg. There's the raw sewage flowing between the evangelical Christians and the "emergent church" movement over Brian McLaren's comments about homosexuality.

But for now, there's two things to share - a funny moment at an AA meeting, and a prayer request. First the fun moment...

Thursday night, I'd had about all of work I could take. I was looking forward to meeting up with a young man I'd been sponsoring in AA and going to a meeting together. This meeting just happened to be one of the two "Hyde Park neighborhood" AA meetings at which I'd come out openly. It's a good group - a short speaker shares experience, strength and hope and then comments follow.

During the meeting, my sponsee spoke up, reflecting on his early sobriety. He'd intended to share how he'd been pretty dependent on me as a guide in his early days. Just about everyone in the room knew that I was his sponsor, and had seen him kind of cling to me, and a few others in the rooms when he was newly sober.

But what he ended up saying was, "Back then, I spent a lot of time hiding behind my sponsor's skirt..."

Now I knew (and a lot of people also knew) what he meant.

And we all saw his eyes go wide, as he realized what he'd said, and about whom. What was written all over his face for that one second was "WTF did I just SAY?" He tried to recover, saying "...pant leg," but it was too late. The whole room was roaring in laughter - me right along with them. One person in particular, who's commented on this blog a time or two, started chiming in with images of me in a pink tutu...and that just made the laughter louder. My young friend turned about 15 shades of pink, and stayed pretty flushed even as the laughter died down.

Later that night, as the meeting ended, he was more than a little mortified and kept trying to apologize that he could have said "something like that." I laughed, and told him that it was a beautiful moment, and the look on his face was worth the price of the good-natured ribbing I took about it. My joy was in being free enough to be able to laugh at myself, and reassure him that it was absolutely OK.

Earlier today, as we were talking, I reminded my friend about his little faux-pas (and got another good laugh out of it). He said, "I just remember when you first told me about it [coming out], and it seemed like it was a serious deal for you. I just didn't want to embarrass you about it." I told him that for me, the joy was being able to say that friends joking around like that was going to be part of being out and free - and I was glad that it happened exactly as it did.

What I didn't say explicitly to him (but need to) is that part of the reason I can be more free about being gay is precisely because at the time that I thought my homosexuality would be a big deal to him, that it wasn't. His acceptance of me as I began the public portion of coming out was the gift that allowed me to "keep on keepin' on," and I owe him a debt of gratitude for that encouragement and support.

The prayer concern is this - there are five people that I need to come out to - my former spouse, my late mentor's widow (and one of my surrogate mom's) in KC, and another set of surrogate parents and two of their children. Each one is still very much a part of my life (if a somewhat disconnected, distant part), and each relationship carries some baggage of its own. So just pray for me, as I begin to write those letters, to continue to be open and honest as this journey goes on.

Because only by being open and honest will I ever be able to recover that little boy's joy and hope.

Thoughts from the other side of the Mountain

On Saturday, I went to see Brokeback Mountain with Damien and Tom, who then graciously invited me over for dinner. (Br'er Damien's review of the movie is here.)

On one level, that was my reaction, too. OK - I can check this box off. Been there, done that. Nice visuals, beautiful cineatography, powerfully acted (if unsympathetic) characters, but definitely not the "oooh, ahh..." reaction I've read in so much of the press. (I did love Letterman's list of "Top Ten Rejected Titles for 'Brokeback Mountain,'", which included Oklahomo, Best Little Bathhouse on the Prairie, and The Good, The Bad, and the Fabulous.)

But there was more to it than that, for me.

I really identified with the character of Ennis - fearful, emotionally-impaired, unable to imagine life outside the rural closet he lived in. It was that same fear of being "found out" that kept me closeted as along as I was. Which is pathetic, especially since so many people I've come out to have said, "Well...yeah, that's no surprise." Not a lot of folks were fooled...

I also identified with Ennis, because the first guy I ever loved (and first male sexual partner) was my best friend from high school. He and I both married, and (unlike Jack and Ennis) never picked up our sexual liason after my wedding. He divorced before I got married, and he found another childhood sweetheart not long afterwards. Both my marriage and his relationship with his girlfriend were disintegrating in early 1990. He committed suicide on Palm Sunday 1990, rather than face his alcoholism, drug use, and closeted secrets.

My marriage ended eight months later, followed shortly afterwards by my entrance into sobriety. I've wondered what would have happened if he and I had both been newly sober and newly-single at the same time. I wondered if we both would have stayed in the closet as long as I did if he had lived.

Of course, it's a silly speculation on so many levels - if only because relationships (especially sexually-active ones) in early sobriety often last about as long as matter-antimatter unions. And the family estrangement he felt resulting from his interracial hetero relationship (a contributing factor in his suicide) would have been nothing to the reaction of his redneck family to his having a gay lover. And I can't deny that his shame over our past sexual encounters was also a contributing factor to his death. So that whole line of thought falls into the woulda - coulda - shoulda category...a romantic fantasy even more improbable than Brokeback.

But the other image from the movie - that of violence against gays - is one that is not nearly as far away from us as we'd like to think. True, it's been ten years since Matthew Shepard's brutal murder, but gay-bashing is still something that goes on every single day (though it rarely gets publicized as anything more than a violent mugging). There are still many places where homophobia can be a justification for murder (the so-called "gay panic defense"). So in that way, it's still a very timely story.

But the movie's best argument is for coming out, and for living the truth, instead of a lie. Would the two lovers have had a longer life up on Jack's parent's land? Would it have been happier, less fraught with guilt, shame, and fear? Who knows. All I know is, every day that I'm out to more people, I lessen the likelihood of living the rest of my life (however much there is) in regret and what-could-have-been. I've lived enough of that - and I'm not going back to it.

Catching up...

The good news? I'm back, "on-line and real-time" (as a friend says).

The bad news? I started this entry on "catching up" on December 19th.

I've got a lot of catching up to do...

I've been away from this place (and the blogging world in general) for a number of reasons. My "temp job" officially became "my new job" on December 12th - and at the same time, I got thrown into two incredibly messy and tragically-flawed projects almost immediately. The second project went live on January 2nd (about 90 days before it would have been ready), and we've been putting in between 70-90 hours a week for the last four weeks putting out fires.

So my life has been just dealing with first-order topics - work, sobriety, maintaining basic utilities and services (like laundry) - and there hasn't been any bandwidth for much else. It's not that I'm any less gay, or any less in the process of coming out. But frankly, sexuality has been the last thing on my mind - or on my co-workers' minds, either. I think that if Osama bin Laden had shown up, and been able to deal with the issues at hand, our team would have welcomed him onto the team with open arms.

One of the negative consequences of the excess hours has been that three or four days a week I've been driving into the office (rather than risk having to take the train home into the ghetto at 1 AM). So my reading/rest/meditation time has been sucked up by driving down Stony Island and Lake Shore Drive into downtown Chicago. So I've been kind of burnt-out and fresh out of things to say, other than "Damn, I'm glad that day's over..."

My goal, going forward is to post something on both my blogs at least twice a week - if only to think about something other than my two problem-children clients and their payroll challenges.

For now, there's a bunch of things on mind - including four books I've been alternating reading (when I'm not too brain-dead to read), and my reactions to seeing Brokeback Mountain (which I went to see with Tom and Damien earlier today). But the thing that has stuck with me the most happened on the phone a little over a week ago...

A week ago Thursday, I got a phone call about 11:30 PM, and it was my friend Eric. Eric's about the closest thing I had to a brother-in-spirit in my former church community - and therefore was one of the people I'd been more concerned about coming out to, especially because of some of the religious views he'd expressed about homosexuality in the past. Of course, when I actually sent him the email, he wrote back and basically said, "I've know that about you for quite a while, and it doesn't change how I feel about you," which was an immense relief.

Flash forward to last Thursday...Eric was calling from Hong Kong using Skype, a voice-over-IP internet phone service. (He goes to HK, Taiwan and China several times a year for business. Since I'm one of the few people he knows who are up late, he thought he'd try out the VoIP deal on me.) So after the initial "Guess where I'm calling you from?" deal, he said, "Yeah, I thought I'd be your first-ever call from Hong Kong..." (and I could almost hear the smirk in his voice) "...and it's a cute boy, to boot."

Well, to be honest, Eric would definitely qualify as a cute guy (although not necessarily a type I'd be drawn to) but it really surprised me, for some stupid reason, that he'd be comfortable enough to tease me about that. It took me a two-count to recover, and then I replied, "Yeah, and doesn't it just figure that the first time I get a phone call from a cute boy, he's in freakin' Hong Kong..."

And we laughed...and I breathed a sigh of relief. There aren't many things in my life that are big deals - but finding one of my best friends able to tease me about my orientation was a really big deal. Especially when I'd been so terrified about people finding out for so long.

You will know the truth, and the truth will set you free. (John 8:32, NIV)