Homosexuals and Murderers
I came out to my parents when I was eleven.
Why? Because I thought if I did it early enough, they wouldn’t be able to kick me out of the house. Of course, I would later find out that, that was never going to be the case with them, but still, I had to make sure.
A year later, they put me in a Southern Baptist Christian school.
Now, mind you, they swear up and down to this day they had no idea that what happened would happen. They say they put me into that school to give me a less judgmental environment.
I was fat, y’see. Chubby at the VERY least. At my height weight, around 15-16, I was 320 lbs. In public schools, I was constantly teased and… well, I was also just awkward as hell.
Long story short, though, every conception they had of Christian school was promptly proven wrong. My weight became less of a target, true, but I was never treated any better by any of those children.
See, their judgmental attitudes had less to do with social folkways and all the more to do with their pious beliefs. But very quickly I realized a much more concerning point of contention had arisen. Not just with the students… but the faculty as well.
See, I had grown up only knowing four things about Christianity: There’s a Heaven, which good people go to, a Hell, which bad people go to, God, and his son Jesus. I had no idea that, apparently, Homosexuality was a sin. A sin that I had been committing, as far as I knew, since I was eight years old.
It took only a short while before it came up. Funny enough, it was my History teacher that chimed in with it.
"I would never let my children go to Disneyland! Never on my life. They have a Gay Day, did you know that? Disneyland is Satan’s playground!"
Satan’s playground. Some of my happiest memories as a child came from there and this man was making it sound like some Den of Sin.
For those of you who don’t know, by the way, Disneyland ALLOWS a loosely organized event where LGBT members, as well as their families, friends and supporters all get together and celebrate the childhood happiness that many of them lost to homophobia in their early years.
Back on track: This struck a cord with me, of course. I made sure to read my bible on the subject. I asked my peers, my teachers. No matter who at that school I asked, it all came back to the same conclusion: Homosexuality was a sin.
It wasn’t until late into my first year when my Bible Studies teacher brought up gossip that a major red flag really arose:
"Now, today we’re going to talk about Gossip!" She said in that authoritative, but distinctly feminine tone, "Now, what’s important to remember is that all sins are really equal in their own way! Of course, I know what you all must be thinking, ‘But teacher, how is Gossip a bad of a sin as Murder or Homosexuality?’"
Murder or Homosexuality. Now, I want you to imagine yourself sitting in the back of the class. You look around, trying to find a reaction from anyone.
"Is anyone going to say anything?" I thought. "Is anyone else disturbed by this? Is anyone else concerned? … am I alone here?"
And I was. Because even if there was another homosexual kid in the class, no one would have said anything. I didn’t say anything.
Because we had just been called murderers. Or, might as well have, anyway. To these people, we were no better and on the way to hell all the same.
What do you do? What do you say? Your salvation is on the line because every fiber of your being drives you one while, even though your peers and teachers say otherwise.
I remember every Wednesday around 10 AM, we’d sing hymns. Lyrics projected up on a large screen, all of us standing, chiming in one and all. I just remember standing there, learning the songs, singing along, hoping God heard me.
Because what was I supposed to do? I just knew I couldn’t rewire myself; I was who I was. Gay. And -scared-. So I sang extra loud and prayed extra hard.
To this day, I look back on that school and just wish I could have had the courage to say something. All I remember was being scared and lost and alone.
I hope that anyone else who went through that hears this. I want them to know that there probably was another kid there. Someone who didn’t speak up.
Couldn’t speak up.
All us homosexuals and murders.
I wanted to reblog again this. It means a lot to me.