Dear Homophobes: I Used To Be You, Part 1 of 2

Note: When telling my story, I am reliving a lot of heavy emotions, so please bear with me if there are some typos. I have tried to catch them all. Please don't dismiss my story because there are typos. 


I first got saved at around three years old. Later I would often wonder how much I had understood, or wonder if the last time I was really sincere, and ask God to save me if I wasn't saved. I have been re-re-reborn many times, but that had nothing to do with my sexuality. I thought I was straight until I was twenty-three.

When I was about ten, I asked my Christian, homophobic mother who Bing Crosby was. She immediately responded, "He was a singer, and when he was asked in an interview what he would do if one of his kids was gay, he replied, 'Then he won't be my son. He won't be my kid.' And he didn't realize that your kid is always your kid. That you always love your kid no matter what. He was a bad father and a bad man."
I have never been able to find anything about homophobic remarks by Bing Crosby. Perhaps she was mistaken with the identity of the celebrity. But I never forgot what she said, when the topic of gay people had not even come up at the time.
My mother did not think homosexuality was right, but I merely mentioned the name Bing Crosby, and she immediately thought, "You don't disown your gay kids! You don't disown your kids, no matter what!"
I never even knew parents could say that their kid wasn't their kid anymore. I didn't understand, and I guessed it meant kicking your kids out, and totally ignoring their needs and existence. And when she had said it, it had not occurred to me that doing that wasn't right, until she explained that your kids are always your kids. I thought being gay was being bad, like going to jail. I had never imagined how bad kids should be treated, but especially not with kindness or love.

When I was thirteen, in 2004, Massachusetts started issuing marriage licenses to all couples. (I realize now that it was not same-sex couples, but all couples, because mismatched couples could also get married.) I was homeschooled, through the homeschool program of the local conservative Christian school, where I had attended until we moved out to the country when I was eleven. So I thought that God wanted me to be an anti-gay conservative. I feared where the world was headed, if being in a gay couple was legally recognized.
But I remember seeing, on the news about a protest or rally, two men sitting together on the ground, their legs touching like a loving straight couple. One was holding a sign that said, "I want to marry the man I love."

(Sorry, I cannot find a picture or clip of that. I wish I could. It is so clear to me in my mind's eye.)

I was shocked. A man could love a man, like a woman loved a man. And the presence of his beloved made it perfectly clear that it wasn't theoretical for him--he genuinely was suffering, right now. How close they were sitting made it clear that they were probably more than friends. They loved each other.
I thought, "And I wish I could give that to you, but I can't. I can't let you marry the man you love, because God said no." I felt uneasy having to hurt people, even strange people who fell in love in weird ways. So I rationalized something about the sacredness of marriage, relied on my self-righteous anger to keep my beliefs from wavering, and tried to put the issue out of my mind.

I had what I call my "blasphemy defenses" up. I was afraid of hearing the other side of the issue, really hearing how people were hurting, for fear of being deceived by Satan. So I read Left Behind and King James (I later learned he was openly gay--yes, THAT King James!), and tried not to think too much about whom I was hurting. I felt I didn't have a choice.

About that time my mom got a job in a local Native American tribal office. Mom was very conservative, and a big reason why I believed as I did. We are still as close as ever, even today.
Her new workplace was also very conservative and Christian, but there was one lesbian psychologist. She was very tall and strongly built, and walked like a man. (The hormones that God gave her apparently made her tall and gay.)
When I met her, she shook my hand very firmly but didn't seem creepy to me at all (that goes to show you my expectations then). My mom said later, when we were alone, that she had a "wife," and I heard the quotes in my mother's voice.
Mom related the comment of another coworker, also a conservative Christian: "I like you, Dr. X, even though you're the first one of those I've met."
I laughed uncomfortably at the phrase, "one of those."

My mom carpooled with her some days. I was kind of amazed that my mom was so comfortable. Gay people were still exotic to me.
My mom related to me third-hand what their prim, church-going boss had said to her lesbian subordinate. Her wife was trying through in-vitro fertilization to have a baby.
"She said, 'I don't approve of your lifestyle!'" Dr. X related. "And then she said she would pray for us to have a baby, and I found that highly offensive!"
"Yes, I can see why you would be offended," my mom said. "I hope you and her do have a baby."
She later explained to me, "I hope they have a baby, because right now they have something missing in their life, and when they have a baby, maybe they'll still have something missing." I guess that made sense. My mom thought a baby could bring them to Jesus, and to straightness or at least abstinence.
I also remember my mom joking, when no one else at work liked her favorite candy, "You like black licorice? Dr. X, you're my kind of woman!"

Continued in Part Two.