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Hi Friends,

It’s Pride Month, and it makes me happy to see so many of my fellow queer folks and allies celebrating in myriad colorful ways. I suspect I can speak for many queer people when I say the pride I feel about my sexuality doesn’t come from being gay, a fact of life I played no part in creating. My pride comes from my willingness to express myself honestly, to be openly gay in a world where hundreds of millions of people on this planet believe I am sick, a sinner and pervert because of who I was born to love. Not chose to, but born to.

Yes, we’ve come a long way, and yes, there’s still a long way to go.

Millions would have me imprisoned, or beaten, or stoned. Actually killed. In 71 countries, homosexual activity between consenting adults is illegal, and in 11 of those countries (as of July 2020), being gay or bisexual is punishable by death. By death. And though there are no laws in the states that send me to the electric chair for having sex with men, I suspect many Americans wouldn’t object if there were. Fear disguised as obeyance to God conjures horrific realities.

Religious zealots blame my community for earthquakes and hurricanes and floods. Tsunamis and droughts, too. Some, for mass shootings and the financial crisis of 2008 and even Brexit. We are blamed for everything, because, as explained by too many anti-gay Christians, by way of their signs, God Hates Fags and Homosexuals Are Possessed By Demons and F*****s Are B******s Who Will Burn in Hell.

How many gay people have religions killed? How many queer kids have taken their lives because their religious parents pushed them into conversion therapy or kicked them out of their homes and onto the street? How many teenagers have hanged and shot and drugged themselves to death because they just couldn’t pray the gay away? How might my life have been different had I grown up with parents who took their Catholicism more seriously, who actively condemned the boy I was discovering myself to be? Would I have survived? Or would I have killed — saved, freed — myself from the agony of a sinner’s life?

Sin, after all, is only fun when you choose it.

A couple years ago I was reading through some old journals (something I rarely do) and came across a number of passages from my early twenties related to my sexuality. Statements like Please God don't let me be gay. I'll never be able to have a family if I'm gay. I really believe I can fall in love with a woman someday. Poor kid.

There’s that scene in American Beauty when high-schooler Ricky Fitts, who’s operating his drug-dealing business from his bedroom, speaks to why his parents don’t know he’s selling drugs: Never underestimate the power of denial, he says. It’s true, we humans are great at denying the truth. Of course, it’s easier to deny the truth about someone else than about yourself. It’s certainly possible to live a lie as far as your sexuality is concerned (I did it for years) but I don’t think it’s possible to believe the lie. Not really. We desire who we desire, and that doesn’t change simply because we’re afraid to admit it.

I worked hard in my younger years to deny who I was, to make excuses for my actions and fantasies, to pretend to myself I believed I could change. I knew I couldn’t. Even when I would masturbate about guys, I would force myself to think of a girl at the moment of orgasm so I would feel a little less disgusted with myself. I put so much energy into shaming and hating myself, just because I liked guys.My God I want to hold that young man and let him know how beautiful and worthy he is, and let him know how much beauty his gayness will add to his life, how he will someday see his sexuality as a gift with which he would never consider parting. Yes, I see my sexuality as a gift with which I would never consider parting. I love men, and I can’t imagine not loving men. I don’t want to imagine it. As hard as it would be for the younger me to believe I wouldn't trade my gay away if given the chance, it's even harder for me right now to conceive of ever wishing away my gayness. No thank you no way. As I was flipping through those old journals, I came across a more recent one, probably ten or so years old, and though I don't remember the moment I wrote this, I wasn’t at all surprised to see three exclamation points following the words I F*****g LOVE Being GAY!!!

Happy Pride to all who are celebrating. May we delight in the energy of self-acceptance so potent in the air this month, and may we learn to stop resisting who we are so that we may come alive in the gifts that live beyond our shame. Yes. May we be freer than we ever believed we could be.

Big and Bigger Love,

Scott

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