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Youth activist and organizer Wendi O’Neal, Spellman college in Atlanta. (In the Life, ep. 503)

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What I say: Country music blows

What I mean: Modern country music, especially songs sung by modern male country artists, revolves around similar themes of toxic masculinity and nationalism. The recurrent lyrics referencing guns, trucks, beer and girls in short shorts are uncreative and not entertaining in the least. However, older country artists and folk rock bands such as Creedence Clearwater Revival and Johnny Cash have stronger, more diverse themes and often carry an overt anti-war message. I hate the fact that what was once an interesting and powerful genre of music has now been claimed by gun-toting conservative bearded dudes, and it hurts my heart to say I hate country music when there are so many country artists that I very much enjoy, but cannot state the fact that I enjoy country music without being associated with the aforementioned group. 

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The South Talks, pt. 13

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Raheem Dunlap, age 24, Rock Hill, NC: Being born into a Muslim family, African American and gay growing up in the south is one that most would not understand. From the moment I can remember, I have always been fascinated by feminine things: dolls, lipstick, being beautiful, walking around in my grandmother heels. Obviously, this wasn't the norm, but it was the norm for me. Since birth and until now,  I have started this journey trying to figure out who I am and what I want out of life. I used to question what would make being gay more acceptable in this world. The only answer I could think of was if I could change my race to being white. While I love being dark skinned, society doesn't see the beauty in that. Most white guys who are gay, do not know the feeling of getting weird looks when you are the only black person in your class, when most of your friends or white, and coming from a family that is well off.  The worst feeling is that being gay in the African American world is a disgrace. You are labeled as being gross, living with HIV/AIDS, or being DL( means that a "straight guy is sleeping with a woman but secretly having an affair with a man).

During my sophomore year of college, I went to a fraternity house party (FIJI), and a guy came up to me and told me I had to leave. I looked around and said why? He said. " You are not welcome here." I looked around and noticed I was the only black guy in the party, I just left, while my friends started to fight. This quickly made me realize that I had two targets on my back at all times- being gay and black. This experience has taught me that not only do I not fit in with the African American community, but I am still not accepted into the White Community either.

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The South Talks, pt. 12

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Richard Clemons, age 57, Kentucky: We moved to Georgia from Alaska after my dad got orders to be stationed at Fort Stewart in 1974. I was 12 years old. I didn’t know what the word gay was. I just knew I was different. Throught high school I dated girls and struggled with who I really was sexually. I was attracted to guys but that was so tabu back then, nor did I know why.   I came out to my girlfriend. That hit the grapevine like a wild fire to say the least. My best friend had nothing to do with me after he heard the news. That hurt the most, because I was actually in love with him. We were tight before the news of my being a “faggot” as they called it back then. stead thru town. I remember running into your mom and her date ,like any normal straight couple, on St. Patrick’s Day in Savannah, my first date with a guy. We went to school together and were friends. I was so freaked out, but she yelled my name, smiled bid as she laughed and gave me a big hug, as if she had known the whole time or it all made sense to her now. Her acceptance, rather acknowledgement meant the world to meat the time.  I’ll never forget that evening. Two years of being alone in exile, I joined the Navy. Still I played the straight guy, my first orders out of boot camp, sent me to SanDiego California for my medical school. Even then I played the straight guy, until I saw that their were others like me. It was the best feeling in the world. Coming from a small town from Georgia and being placed in a city of such gay life was like no other experience I’ve ever had. I came out there to everyone I knew. Wow I was so fortunate after medical school to be stationed at a small command. Everyone accepted me for who I was, down to my Company Commander and all the officers in the small hospital. Those were my best years. The early 80’s., although the gay community was hit with a plague. AIDS !  I watched my friend drop like flies. I was going to at least a couple funerals a week. That was the only downside to living in such an open minded state as California was even back then. Well years later in 1993 I returned to Georgia. It was as if I had gone back in time Ten years plus !   Homosexuality was still a tabu and after being in southern California for so long, I didn’t really care what people thought of me. I was very fortunate that my parents  accepted me for me, and my lover I traipsed  across country, was one of our family. They didn’t understand fully, but welcomed my lover and I as a couple. I was fortunate in this, because so many gay guys were abandoned or disowned by their families. I got a townhouse downtown Savannah in the historic district, a dream I had since being 15. I referbished it at the same time sent my lover packing, back to California. I moonlighted as a bar tender in a local gay bar and then another. I was happy finally. Then I met the man of my dreams as he walked into the bar one day. After a month I moved him in. Everyone said we were made for one another. On June 29th 1994 we both rested positive for HIV. I remember walking down the dock of of my parents coastal home, where my mother was sitting, telling her the tragic news. It was her bithday. A day I’ll never forget. Well the news of our status hit the gay community. Now I was labeled with a stigma far more than being gay. As the years passed and people finding out the news of our having  “AIDS” as many called it back then was psychologically a load I had to endure. Back then it was a death sentance. After moving from Savannah out to the country, it’s was as if I had gone back into the closet. My lover was born and raised in the area, and not even his sisters new about him being gay. So here I was again, up against a wall I did not like. I had progressed in a positive way and left all that nonsense of “being gay” behind me. We bought a river cabin in Claxton GA, were he was raised, as a weekend get away. Well two years later I move in to the cabin full time. My lover finally came out to his sisters, boy they were shocked. Neither one of us were afiminate and passed as just friends. After living in separate spaces we grew apart in the filling four years. I was not hiding who I was. If someone asked? “ yeah I’m gay”. This didn’t go over well with my partner of 23 years. We grew further apart and seperated. I was jinally free if his closeted mindset. The people in this small town learned who Ric really was. It of course didn’t matter that much to most, but of course you had a few that were not so nice. My cabin was set on fire one Sunday as I was taking a nap. I had only a minute to escape from a bedroom window. The outdoor of the cominity touch my heart as they pulled together to help out. It took three months for me to leave Claxton as I was still in shock. I believe I went thru some mental breakdown and was as if I was awakened as a new baby boy. I struggled to grow each and everyday. After a year I was able to take care of myself finally after much hard work. During this process I relocated. I moved to Kentucky, where my entire family relocated in the past ten years. It was a blessing in disguise. Kentucky is a place gay people are scarce, or hide behind doors. People are learning in this small town I reside of my my being gay, It doesn’t seem to bother them, this is like no others place this “gyspy” ,  as I call myself,  has found. KY is home now, although a bit like walking back in time. I’m not one to flaunt my life as a gay man as some do not jugdge those who do.  It doesn’t stop me at all for being alive and hold my head high. Im happy to say I’ve been HIV positive for twenty five years ?  Maybe more. I’ve been blessed to have never encountered an AIDS related Iliness to date. I’m “HIV healthy” as they call it. I do so miss the many that have died due to this epidemic the past decades. As I finish I have one thing to say.  I’m so happy for LGBT youths that they are accepted today as they are for most. I never thought I’d see the day.

Follow up:

No I might be 56. Lol. One tends to forget that after a while.

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The South Talks, pt. 11

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Sophie, 24, Lake Martin AL, Bisexual: I didn't really know I was "queer" when I was younger, but apparently some of my older cousins knew I would be (probably because they had excellent gaydar as LGBT women themselves). And none of my friends were surprised when I came out to them years later. I don't really know when I KNEW -- it was a slow progression. Sometimes I wonder if I didn't know because I simply didn't consider it an option, growing up in small-town Alabama. I've always explained it, "You may like chocolate ice cream, but if your freezer has only ever been stocked with vanilla, you just eat vanilla and like it, right?" I could write an entire essay about my relationship with religion and the "kind Christian folk" of my hometown, but to summarize -- Let's just say I went through an Atheist phase for a few years. By the time I came out, I was in college and out of the south. So I managed to avoid all the small town drama and rumors! (Though who knows what gossip has spread in my absence??) I've been extremely lucky to have parents who love and support me, who accepted me with (fairly) open arms when I came out to them. And just as lucky to have a good set of friends who would never look at me differently for being into girls. Others around me have not been so lucky. I hope it's easier for kids in my hometown these days. If not, I've always wanted to start a Queers and Allies group there. Maybe I should whether it's easier or not.

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Favorite lgbtq characters ★ Ruth Jamison (Fried Green Tomatoes)

“Don’t you ever say never to me.”

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The South Talks, pt. 10

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Courtney, 25, Alabama/Georgia/South Carolina, Queer: I didn't come to terms with the fact that I was queer until I was in my twenties. I remember in Elementary School not even knowing what "gay" was, and being so confused when people got upset when they were called gay. By the time I figured out what it was, I knew that it was considered a terrible sin. My entire family is very Southern Baptist-- I grew up with a firmly implanted guilty conscience, and the comforting knowledge that because of my beliefs I would get to spend eternity in heaven.

So, when the summer before my sophomore year in college, I had this epiphany of sorts and just thought that I might be gay. I can't even remember what it was prompted by, but at the time it was devastating. As soon as I had the thought, I prayed, "Oh God, let it be anything but this." I walked around depressed and worried for a few weeks, and at the end of all this praying and weeping, I kind of felt like I may have done it-- actually prayed the gay away.

I ended up falling hard for a girl I worked with the next fall. I pretended so much that I wasn't, but as cliche as it sounds, I had never felt that way about any guy before. We had a thing for the better part of a year, but there was a very loud voice in the back of my head that kept telling me this wasn't okay, that she was out, and I wasn't, and was never going to be. It just wasn't possible in my Southern Baptist family. It wasn't until things ended with her that I started telling friends. No one was surprised, even though I expected them to be. I got such a positive response from those around me at college, that it kind of tricked my brain into thinking that I could be a bridge for old-school conservative Christians and progressive, non-homophobic Christians.

I told my parents I was queer without using the word-- that I was open to having a relationship with a girl, and that might be how my life played out. I regret that now; they didn't get angry, they got SAD. I was breaking their heart. My dad would call me saying he couldn't sleep at night. They told me if I had a relationship with a girl, it would be living in sin, and the "wages of sin is death," which is the same thing as my parents telling me I was going to hell, which was for a long time my greatest fear. They are good people, but I wished they weren't, I wished they would just yell at me instead of cry in front of me. They went to a gay Christian therapy group and tried to get me to agree to counseling from a former gay prostitute... I still wish I hadn't told them, even though things have worked out now.

I didn't expect myself to fall for a guy again, but I did-- we were friends for years, and it just fit. He loved me, the fact I was queer, the fact I was a feminist. My parents' happiest moment is probably when I told them I had a boyfriend, and then when I sealed the deal by marrying him. We still joke that he "cured me" in my their minds. The joke does hurt a bit though, as I've realized that since I married a man I have to, to some degree, be okay with being perceived as straight. Queerness is just not accepted in the South, and sometimes I think, "What's the point of telling people I'm not straight?" I know the LGBTQ community doesn't encourage people to out themselves if they are uncomfortable with it, or if the people they tell wouldn't be accepting, but there is pressure. I try to take comfort in that the people that matter, that really know me, know I'm queer, and I don't have to hide that part of me when I'm around them. It is a part of who I am, but as long as I'm still living in the South, it's going to be a part of me that I feel I have to hide.

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when youre the only lgbt person in your family

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The South Talks, pt. 9

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Jean Catherine Hubbard, Montgomery, AL and Charleston, SC: For me, personally, being gay in the south is less about blatant discrimination or homophobic remarks, and more about the unspoken and intrinsic nature of the way things are here. Perhaps that’s due to my white privilege, or my being able to pass as a heterosexual cis woman, but regardless, the south flaunts her socially acceptable beauty and masks the raw, “unsightly” reality (in almost all regards-not just the LGBTQ+ community. Ehem, slavery). From my experience, the notion that being an LGBTQ-identified person is “wrong” is rarely overtly stated, yet implied in the essence of everything around us. Societal practices, obligations, what’s expected of you as a young woman from an affluent family, fucking debutant balls, etc. No one talks about controversial topics here. No no, that would be uncouth and might disturb our dinner guests.

The environment is not one that cultivates self expression or progressive thinking. It tells you exactly who you’re supposed to be and leaves you feeling alienated if you don’t fit that mold. Everyone experiences this to some degree. However, LGBTQ+ identified people have very little representation here. Our voices are silenced. Nothing to relate to but our small community of other LGBTQ+ peers and friends who are brave enough to be themselves. I think being unapologetically you is the most bold and powerful thing a human can do with their life. You are who you are, and that is a gift to share with society and those around you. Being unapologetically you in a society that doesn’t accept you? That condemns you for who you love? Now that, that’s fucking revolutionary in my eyes. 

Being gay is empowering to me. I know that I am living my life to my truest nature. It took me until my early 20’s to fully realize, understand, and accept my sexuality. My entire life up to that point I felt like an outsider watching in on a life I could never understand or relate to. I never thought of myself as gay because to me, I was just me. In hindsight, how could I have? Being gay wasn’t an option. Not even a word in my vocabulary other than a synonym for weird, stupid, or lame in early 2000’s lingo. I had nothing to help me understand what I was feeling or who I was. No one to tell me that it was ok to be me. Our society, especially in the south, is so deeply and systemically heteronormative that people, like myself, grow up wondering what the hell is wrong with them until they’re fortunate enough to escape their environment and discover who they are. Some don’t even get that privilege and are forced to repress their true nature solely for the comfort of those around them. 

My family “accepts” me, but they don’t talk about it. They don’t acknowledge it. They don’t stand up and fight for my right to live and to love who I love. They simply see me as just me. Which is a kind sentiment, truly, but that me is gay, and gay is part of my identity. It does not define me, for I am many things, but it has shaped who I am. If our growing presence and voice as a community offends or threatens you, well then quite frankly my dear, I don’t give a damn.

It’s about fucking time we were seen.

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The Lady Chablis, otherwise known as the Grand Empress of Savannah, GA (In the Life, ep. 603)

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all of the one star reviews on John Oliver’s Marlon Bundo children’s book about Mike Pence’s rabbit being gay and falling in love with another boy rabbit are just five star reviews disguised to fool people digging for the negative, and one person who couldn’t read the book because of a technical glitch. fucking beautiful in every way.

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The South Talks, pt. 8

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Nabil Aasiya-Bey. 29. Born in Los Angeles California. Currently residing in Charleston SC: As a native from California my experience in the south has been interesting. I think people generally are more empowered in California because the environment is generally more progressive. That being said, prejudice exists everywhere in the world. In some places people feel so empowered the prejudices held by others appears as a minority group with little affect on the integrity of the individual. I don't need to give a full account of my experience to be able to state that you never know who will or will not like you because of your ethnicity, religious standpoint, or orientation. I think people like others for being similar to them so really it's hard to expect everyone to love you for who you are. The importance is to love yourself first and foremost and the right people will always gravitate towards that.

I can honestly say I am a very mature person with my own set of ethics and values and I had to learn them for myself. Having good friends and caring people in my life who have encouraged me has had a positive result. I don't expect my parents to condone my lifestyle but do not require them to do so. When you know and love yourself that is called authentic power and noone can take that from you. That being said, I don't consider myself the kind of person to try to change others either but to change how I react to people and circumstances that may not always be flattering.

I haven't met a partner in Charleston yet which I find odd considering how ready I am for a relationship. I believe in a deep and spiritual kind of love and have no desire to play into the idea one has to have multiple trial runs before they discover their soulmate. He is out there already existing for me as I am for him. I look forward to meeting soon, I hope.

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Gay history of New Orleans tour (In the Life, ep. 603)

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Favorite lgbtq characters ★ Idgie Threadgoode (Fried Green Tomatoes)

“That’s right, you gump-face, blown up, baboon-assed bastard!”

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The South Talks, pt. 6

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Shyam Patel, age 22, NYC: “An anecdote from SCPS”  I involuntarily came out to my parents at age 16. I was in the 11th grade at Savannah Christian Preparatory School, a conservative private school in Georgia. After coming out to a group of friends in 9th grade, a bit of tension was relieved. I had a group of friends that knew who supported me. Soon enough, word spread and my tormentors—in awe of the fact that I was choosing to own my sexual identity—left me alone. While high school was getting more comfortable, things at home were not.  

Hiding my sexuality from my parents made me anxious and angry. They couldn’t identify what was making me upset which strained our relationships. Noticing my unusual behavior a few months after returning from summer break, my English teacher pulled me aside to ask if everything was okay. I told her it wasn’t and divulged more than I ever thought I would to an adult. I told her how suicidal I had become. Not knowing the state requires teachers to report students with suicidal thoughts, I assumed the conversation would stay between us. 

A few days later I was pulled out of class by a counselor. We walked halfway down the hall and met my English teacher. She leaned in and gave me a hug. Her smile disappeared and with it my sense of security. I knew my parents had been called to school. “Don’t panic,” she said. “You don’t have to say anything you don’t want to.” 

In that moment I faced one of the most difficult choices I would ever make.  Do I lie to my parents or do I give them the truth that could put me out on the street?  My parents, principal, headmaster, English teacher, and counselor were sitting before me in the headmaster’s office waiting to for an explanation. I didn’t think I could say the words to my Hindu parents or the conservative headmaster and principal, but I did.  “I’m gay,” I said.  My parents reacted well; though they were gentle and supportive in the moment, they revealed their displeasure and disappointment at home.  My headmaster asked me what I knew about Savannah Christian’s view on homosexuality and forced me to reply that it was a sin for which I would go to hell.  He then proceeded to tell me to keep my “gayness” to myself.  I felt insulted, vulnerable, enraged. His disgust for my sexuality covered by his false compassion is still so fresh in my memory.

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The South Talks, pt. 5

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Nick Machuca, Eugene OR: My experience being gay in the U.S. South has varied tremendously as I matured, socialized, and moved throughout it. The simple answer is that being gay and Southern used to be hard for me, mostly. But being a gay man of color has been an inseparable part of that difficulty as well. I grew up in the Florida Panhandle, a place that many consider the “buckle” of the Bible Belt. My experience growing up gay there reflects the power of conservative, Christian domination in that region; I felt terrorized there most of the time. I learned to love and respect myself the hard way because of this.

I know that struggling as a gay person of color is an experience that is not unique to the South. In my adult years, I’ve seen the same ignorant attitudes toward queer people expressed all throughout the U.S. and in surprising places. The major exception to this, the place where I’ve found it easiest (and most enjoyable) to be gay, is in larger cities, and in particular, Southern cities. There is a vibrant existence and celebration of life—gay life—that I have not seen matched outside of some Southern cities. It was in one of these places that I learned greater self-worth, befriended tons of other gays, attended my first pride parade and every one since then, made the glow-up of the century, fell in love, and, my personal favorite, stopped buying my own drinks at the club.

Despite my sometimes tortured adolescence, I believe my experience in its entirety is valuable—it made me who I am today and I wouldn’t trade it for anything. I’ve learned that I have infinite value and I don’t have time for those who don’t see it. In the prophetic words of Mama RuPaul Charles: “Unless they gonna pay your bills, pay them bitches no mind.”

I pay my own bills.

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The South Talks, pt. 4

“What has your experience been like as an LGBTQ-identified person in the South?”

Cayla Campbell, age 27, Charleston, SC: I’m a person who embodies many characteristics far from heteronormativity, and being born to two conservative southern Baptists in Charleston, SC has had certain negative effects on me over the years. I think most of the weight of my experience stems from my parents and the culture Baptist church brings. There was very little sex education much less any discussion on what one’s sexuality might be. I didn’t think about sex or dating until my later high school years; however, looking back I can see there were some girls I had stronger feelings for but couldn’t put my finger on what that meant.

Things took a sharp turn when I kissed a girl for the first time which turned into a relationship I had to hide from my parents. What followed has been a long exhausting journey to try showing my parents those feelings are real and not a phase. It began the moment my mom found out I was dating a girl, proceeded to yell at me, and called me a “lesbian whore”.  My parents scolded me into the early morning hours including my dad asking why I didn’t want to be “normal”. It was never as strongly based in religion for him as it was that he has never been exposed to queer culture.

Within two weeks of that conversation I was newly 18, moved out from under their roof, and lived with them only a couple of times for very short periods. This was all by choice, but the other option was permanent grounding and being forced to see a Christian therapist.

Over the years I’ve opened up to them multiple times to try bridging that gap, but they don’t seem to know how to talk about it. I finally got a brief approval from my dad and left it at that. My mom always brings the conversation to the Bible, how I can reconcile my choices with god, and how a speaker at her church talked about choosing to give up the homosexual life to be right with god.

The frustrating thing is what seems to work best is not talking about it at all and bringing my significant others around regardless. My parents get to experience the raw emotion this way instead of trying to logic it away. I think this has created a lot of anger and resentment towards them because my mom has started building relationships with my past significant others independently of me. I’m definitely grateful for this, but it’s frustrating to try communicating about something so personal, have it shot down, and see her support and help people so close to me but not offer that same support to me. I know those aren’t her intentions. I know she doesn’t know that’s how it feels to me; however, it’s been ten years, and my resolve to try communicating with her is low.

I would say my family is accepting but not supportive, but delving into whether that is encompassed by struggling with any emotional support regardless of its subject is a whole other matter. Regardless, my mom has instilled rejection in me and the feeling that she will always choose the Bible over building a relationship with me.

Outside of my immediate family my queer experience in the south has been fairly tame. Sometimes I get told I’m in the wrong bathroom which quickly gets resolved. I had a hard time fitting in with people growing up because I wanted to hang out with boys but always got grouped with the girls. I know this continues to affect me. I tend to stay away from groups of people unless I’m close with them and make friends more often with other queer people.

I think that touches on the main events in my experience.

Thanks for asking for my input. This was helpful to write out and sort through those emotions.