Willful Ignorance?

I was at my college this week to sign up for my first classes. Now, in typical college fashion, this was turned into a day-long event, complete with two meals, four presentations (for the students. Parents had about six of their own), and an activities fair. The fair was set up at the end, and we (students) passed by it on the way to our final meeting. The first table to my left bled rainbows.

We walked by.

When we got to the next room, however, the previous session was still going on. We waited outside for about ten minutes, and since the other group showed no signs of stopping, I thought I'd go down and try to sneak away some literature from the display. It wouldn't be hard, I reasoned. Whoever was manning that booth would surely understand that some people need secrecy and wouldn't make a scene by trying to call me back. I was just entering the crowded fair area when I saw familiar faces.

Of course my parents would be there. And they saw me (thankfully before I had even turned towards the rainbows) and came to talk. My mother had been worrying, in typical mother fashion, about if I would get a good room and roommate and if there would be parties on my floor and how likely it was that my roommate would stab me in my sleep, and so had asked questions of the Housing Booth.

She explained how everything would work out (as I'd assured her), and mentioned that the my roommate wouldn't be drinking. My father chimed in to explain that the university matched roommates on the profiles we filled out, concentrating on alcohol consumption, tobacco use, and "LGBLMNOP or whatever".

Having never imagined my father even attempting to LGBTQ, much less during a secret excursion of mine to obtain materials on said topic, I was dumbfounded into saying "What?"

"LGwhateverQ friendliness," my mom supplied. "What did you put down?"

There are moments when you feel certain that everything might be about to fall apart. This was one of mine. I delayed for an extra two seconds by saying "No drinking, no smoking."

Then, "Friendly."

Half of me was shocked that my parents did not then (or anytime later) accuse me of the truth because I was LGBTQ-friendly. The other half was shocked that they weren't suddenly afeared tha' sum dirty homosekshul was gon' rape me. They responded with nods. Merely nods. And then my dad asked me what the Q was for in LGBTQ.

I answered, and he asked how that was different from LGB or T. I explained. Though he seemed skeptical of the existence of Queer folk outside of LGBT, he accepted my answer without questioning how I knew. Which brings me to my point.

I only know all of this because I'm gay. My interest in the topic has led to my explorations that have taught me so much. There is no way I would have just happened to learn this in everyday life. That doesn't happen in Conservative Christian County. Beyond my knowledge, I am a musical theatre nerd, I practically worship Gaga (with a clear love for her Born This Way message), I watch Glee religiously, I reference how in love I am with both male and female stars, I've insinuated that the world would be a better place were same-sex marriage legal, and I've said to my mother's face at least that I hold gender to be a societal construction. Straight men can do any or all of those things. But they all smack of the Gay.

Do my parents really not know?

Are they in a state of willful ignorance because they don't want to bear the truth? Are they ensconced in some belief that no good Christian turns gay? Are they waiting for me to tell them? Do they think it's an attention-getter, or that I'm participating in that stupid act-gay ritual to prove I'm straight thing that they do now?

Do they just not see it?




Note: Acting in any way does not and should not imply homosexuality. However, there tends to be correlation, and for someone like me, all signs point towards fabulous. Stereotypes are not necessarily true, but all stereotypes are true sometimes.

Battling Bigotry

I've known for as many years as I've known I was gay that I live in an intolerant place. This week, though, I learned I had underestimated the intolerance. Sure, 'gay' and 'fag' are slung around with impunity. Sure, that girl gets called a dyke because she's, as far as the abusers are concerned, ugly, or fat, or simply not feminine enough to fit their paradigm. Sure, Obama's (glorious, groundbreaking, heaven-sent) announcement that he supports marriage equality proves to everyone in the school that he is, in fact, gay, because only queers like queers.

But one incident this week showed me the depths of the stupidity around me.

We pray during the first class of the day, and our teacher takes prayer requests. The second request was from my best friend in the world, and it was thanks for Obama's support for marriage equality (and she did say 'marriage equality', which shows exactly where she stands).

The ambient noise of the class stopped. Everyone stared at her. I smiled wider than I ever have (while using all my theatrical training to resist the burning in my cheeks which I felt would affirm my homosexuality). On being questioned, my friend backed up her claim with the fact that it may very well help prevent gay suicides, which are at pandemic proportions. My teacher was flustered, clearly shocked at how such a good, smart little girl held such satanic views. She gathered herself.

"I don't think I can pray for that."

She built her base around the inherent (unexplained in this instance) immorality of homosexuality, and then she said the most backwards words I'd heard in the school. I've heard my psychology teacher state that homosexuality is 'just... immoral!' I've heard my world religions teacher claim that 'the bible is clear it's [teh gay] wrong. No question.' (it isn't, by the way. Definite gray area). I've heard a guest speaker talk about his gay uncle, who always seems sad at reunions, and that it's because he has no family (because, you know, gays can't have kids).

But this? This takes the case. This masters degree holding, published, friendly woman opened her mouth and said "I think it's a choice."

Really? So I chose to oppose every 'traditional family value' (I hate those words) that my family taught me in some sort of act of rebellion? I woke up one day and thought, "Hey, you know what? I want to quadruple my risk of suicide? And let's get some bullying up in here. And if that fails to brighten my mood, maybe Fred Phelps can tell me how much God hates me. Yeah, that'll be fun!"

She added that actions open the door a bit more, and a bit more. You apparently become gay by doing gay things. Which falls apart quickly. I was never molested. I never did anything romantic with anyone (male or female). Sex never touched my life until well after I knew I was attracted to boys and stumbled across a gay porn site. I was gay before I witnessed, much less engaged in, anything gay (indeed, I haven't engaged in anything gay by any definition).

I was amazed she even said that. What was more amazing (in a good way) was after the prayer when my best friend said "And thank you, God, for Obama." She didn't just offer thanks for what the class viewed as the destruction of marriage. She offered thanks for the man who had done, the man who I'm sure some still claim is the Antichrist.

I love her.

The next day, between prayer requests and the prayer, the teacher asked my friend if she had any more 'thanks for Obama'. She said it the same way one might repeat a friend's unintentional misspeaking. A humorous reminder of oh, how wrong you were. She thinks she won.

Oh, how wrong she is.

I am writing a research paper now. I am going to cite every single word of it with scientifically sound studies. I will make it blatantly clear that homosexuality (or any sexuality, really) is not a choice. Then I will show how gay marriage is the only reasonable course. I am going to use every rhetorical skill she taught me. I am going to use every ounce of the writing ability God has given me. I am going to begin the career of activism my entire life will continue.

I don't expect to change her mind. But I will send a message. The gay is here, and it ain't goin' nowhere.

Someone has to tell her.

What Happens When the Closet Opens?

I'm a likeable young man. I dress very well, rarely going without a tie. I address adults respectfully, and I have some measure of both wit and charm. When I do things, I do them well. This has caused a lot of people to be interested, in some respect, in my life.

My science-teacher-turned-principal from grade school often inquires after me. Children I don't recognize often say hi to me. That's probably because I am asked to help lead Vacation Bible School every year. I've become something of a role model to some, and an older brother to others. I've taught hundreds.

What happens after I come out?

My parents will have to learn because they're stuck with me. So that's fine.

I know my family will be fine. I mean, my grandmothers might have issues, but everyone except my parents are either without particular faith, or of a particularly open Christianity (and there might be a Hindu, but they're pretty cool with everything).  So that's great.

Some people will be able to just write me off as a God-hating faggot and move on. So that's okay too.

What about the others, though? I know I've become a brother substitute at least once over. That's too close to write off and far enough that sticking with me isn't mandatory. Then, as a role model I try to espouse those values I hold dear. Tolerance, love, and being true to oneself (because my life is apparently a Lady Gaga song). Will those stay taught once the 'old Luke' is dead?

I don't want to be like the star quarterback the whole town loves who eventually is found dead of a heroin overdose and quickly forgotten. I don't want to be swept under the rug. My parents work at a conservative Christian institution. Will they just stop having a son as far as their coworkers are concerned? Will they be pitied? Will they be seen as bad parents (which would be stupid because they're amazing parents)?

I know I'll survive. I know I'll try to reconcile the apparent disparity between my 'two lives' to those whom it would most affect.

I'll have to rip off this band aid one day.

I hope it doesn't hurt anyone.