When Southern Trees Bear Gay Fruit

There’s something mentally and spiritually wrong with me. I’m tainted, infected. I’ve got a demon/spirit in me. My soul will be damned to Hell if I don’t change. These are some of the things I was told and made to believe when my parents learned their son was/is gay. A son they’d raised to believe in God and His word. A son they loved in a way that felt more like psychological abuse. A son who even now still feels like an outcast from his family.

I’m sure my experiences are similar to anyone who’s gay and grew up in the South with parents who are deeply involved in the church and raised their children to be soldiers and heralds of The Most High. But I’m sure my experiences are particularly similar to those of other Black gay men who grew up in the South. Being born a Black man in America is difficult enough, but being born a Black gay man in the South who grows up in a devout Christian household is something that feels like a constant four-sided mental and emotional assault from the moment you gain clarity on who you are.

What Do They Call Me?

My parents discovered my sexuality when I was about 14 — they found porn on the computer. It saved me the trouble of having to come out to them, but it also started me down a road of confusion, rage, suicidal thoughts, and mistrust. While I was embarrassed I’d been caught, I felt especially ashamed when I heard my sister retching in the bathroom that night when she learned I had been … indulging in my “wayward” curiosity.

I spent the following years struggling with the idea that there was a defect in my mind and a weakness in my spirit that allowed the “gay demon” to possess me. Every time the pastor talked about homosexuality in church I felt as if he were talking directly to me, that he could feel there was something wrong with me and had to speak on it. And then I had a revelation.

Reading Toward Salvation

It was reading that pulled me out of my depression and confusion. X-Men comics showed me there’s nothing wrong with being different. Sci-fi and fantasy novels gave me the mental escape and clarity I needed. My natural curiosity showed me worlds of infinite possibilities, ones where I was part of not just one, but several loving and accepting communities where I could be my natural and authentic self.

These realizations, coupled with a rebellious stage where I lived my life according to my own rules that defied those of my parents and the church, helped me to realize that your color, parents, region of birth, and sexual orientation do not define you, and they don’t have to dictate the way in which you live your life.

Pass It On

To anyone who’s reading this, young or old, and can relate to my struggles, know that you have more power, more control than you realize, no matter how it may seem otherwise. While my upbringing most certainly caused psychological damage and scarring that I’m still dealing with, it also strengthened me.

I didn’t choose my race, my parents, or my sexual identity, but I chose how I coped with my circumstances, I chose who I let in my life and who I kept at bay, I chose to “stop listening to the static.”

I chose to embrace my Truth when it appeared before me. And I hope you will too.