Undercover as a gay man

Thu, 25 Oct 2012 15:53:00 +0000

Back when I was a student at Jerry Falwell’s Liberty University, the evangelical equivalent of West Point, the school taught me to be wary of gays: They were all HIV-positive perverts and liberal pedophiles. I’d grown up a conservative fundamental Christian, and I wanted to be a good “Champion for Christ.”

But my beliefs started to change after I left Liberty in my first year and returned back home. I found myself regularly going to a karaoke night, and so many gay people attended, we called it “Lesbaoke.” At first it made me uncomfortable, but over time I found in that place a new home, where everyone was the epitome of loving, and where the judgmental voice inside of me was forced into silence. The regulars at that bar became a family of sorts, tied together by something stronger than blood: a combination of cheap beer and rocking hits of the '70s, '80s and '90s.

Then one night, I had a conversation with a woman named Elizabeth that forced me to wrestle with my Christian past. “I came out to my family yesterday,” she said through watery eyes. “My dad told me to get my stuff out of his house, and that he wouldn’t pay another dime for the education of a ‘faggot daughter’!” Her face found my shoulder, and I wrapped my hands around her tiny body.

Salon.com > Cross in the Closet

Undercover as a gay man