#but the internet is the only place rlly that i've heard people talk abt stuff like this

[stardust--kid]

to love and be loved

i’ve been thinking about these things for a long time, but i wrote this because of my english class. i haven’t talked about this on this blog at all, and i haven’t talked about it with my family much either. it’s kinda scary putting this out there, but i think i want to. my english teacher said i should think about publishing it but uhh idk how to do that so i’m just gonna post it lmao. anyways yeah it’s scary being vulnerable so pls be kind ty

We’re writing an essay in english class. I don’t know how to start. I’m already failing the class, so who knows if it matters anyways. The inquiry question I wrote is “Can an individual hold personal beliefs about gender and sexuality without endorsing or contributing to the long history of oppression and violence against the LGBTQ+ community?” I looked through the databases but I haven’t found anything that directly talks about it. Nobody really does. 

I grew up going to church. Nearly every Sunday for seventeen years. The first time I heard that gay people existed was in second grade. My best friend told me about a woman who married another woman. I didn’t believe her. Then, I forgot about the whole conversation. 

My first year in middle school we had rainbow day. I’ve always loved rainbows, so I found as many colourful articles of clothing that I could. They gave us rainbow tattoos. When I came home, my mom was skeptical. Rainbows are fine, she said, but you do know what this day is about, right? I didn’t. I couldn’t figure out why she was uncomfortable.

In seventh grade my teacher told us that if a boy likes a girl, that’s okay. If a girl likes a boy, that’s okay. If a boy likes a boy, that’s okay. If a girl likes a girl, that’s okay too. Nobody had ever told me that before. I asked my friend who also went to church “Isn’t being gay a choice?” She told me yes it was. I believed her.

In grade eight, I met one of my best friends. They had moved back to [my city]. They taught me that not everyone was straight, not everyone was cisgender, and it’s not something they choose. They taught me to be more open minded. I still believed what I had been told, that it was a sin, but I loved them anyways. I loved all my friends with everything I had.

It took me until halfway through high school to realize I liked girls. I was terrified. When I told my parents, I thought they might disown me. They didn’t, but my mom wouldn’t believe me, and my dad forgot. I went to christian camp every year starting the summer after grade nine. My friends there joked about things being gay, but not in a good way. None of them would ever think it was okay to murder someone for their sexuality. They’re not bad people. I knew that. But I didn’t feel safe.

There was a conference at my church last November. It was called Gender, Sexuality, and Grace. I paid five dollars to go. I’d never met anyone else who wasn’t straight, but still had a faith that was the most important thing in their life. I felt seen for the first time in my life. I bought the speaker’s book, and cried in the car on the way home. Nobody else from my family went with me. Nobody at my church talked about it afterwards. I’m scared to bring it up.

I recently was at a retreat where the speaker talked about being vulnerable. He told us how in order to have the kind of church community the Bible talks about we need to stop hiding and pretending our lives are perfect, because it makes others more afraid to be open if everyone seems like they have their lives together, and so they struggle alone. He challenged us to be vulnerable with someone next to us. I told them my story. They didn’t know what to say.

I’m not the kind of person to like keeping secrets. I like being open with people. I know that my friends at church, my youth pastor, my small group leaders, my family, they would never hurt me. I’m not likely to experience violence. Not everyone here is accepting but this city is a pretty safe place. I’m lucky. But I’m still so scared. I don’t know how to tell my extended family. I don’t know how to tell my brother. I don’t know how to tell anyone at church.  I’m the same person I’ve always been, but I don’t know if they would be able to see that.

At the conference I went to in November, I remember this one quote stuck out to me. “The church is meant to be a hospital for broken people, so when did it become a graveyard for gay people?” I want to know that too. Queer people are seen as different, as others. There are so many people who lie, who gossip, and who are envious. But nobody ostracizes them. They are not defined by their sin. But then again, neither am I. I know that no matter what I do, my salvation is secure. I’m a child of the most high God. Despite our differences, we’re all in the same boat in the end. I wish more people could see that.

I still don’t know how to write my essay. I don’t have a thesis or proper research. But I wish this wasn’t a topic that nobody talks about. It makes me feel alone. I want community and relationship and love. Really, that’s all anyone wants. Queer people are people first. We’re not that different.