BJUnity

I was brought up in what looked from the outside like a very secure, devout, Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) home. But inside those four walls turmoil ran rampant. I have blocked most of my childhood, but I seem to remember more as time goes by, even without wanting or trying to remember. My dad worked hard to support five kids and my mom stayed home. She did have one job for a while, or so I’m told. I don’t remember a time in my life I was not being sexually abused by my oldest brother, who is now a registered sex offender. Yes, my sister and I told our parents, but I just remember being told to stay away from him. I remember being in a preacher’s office wondering why I was getting preached at.

Someone wise once said that we should never regret the past as it made us who we are today. We cannot change the past so there is no use dwelling on it. We can only change the future.

I grew up in a Christian home with two loving parents. My family attended an Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) Church my whole life. I was saved at an early age and immediately jumped into church work. I had always wanted to be a teacher and I enjoyed working with kids of all ages. I taught Children’s Church and Wednesday night prayer meeting and eventually began playing piano for the church when I hit high school age. I was very active and although there were many things in the church that bothered me, I kept those to myself (inwardly believing that they were wrong) and put on the facade that was expected. In the early days, I didn’t question authority or what was said, but simply accepted it like most fundamentalists do. In fact, I was outwardly the perfect model of what was expected in fundamentalist circles.

Growing up gay in Fundyland, all I learned to do was question, but never out loud. On the one hand, I knew God loved me just as I was. On the other hand, I knew I was different, odd. I knew I was gay when I was 6. I was always the project kid for the fundy men in the church. I was fat, so they would try to get me to lose weight. I was wimpy, so I got handshake lessons. However, in Fundyland I learned to love God. I immersed myself in learning the Bible, memorizing entire books of the Bible, being able to quote verbatim long passages of the Authorized King James Version of the Holy Bible. And I prayed. I prayed so hard for the gay to go away. Much like Salieri’s prayer in the play Amadeus, I prayed to dedicate my life to full-time Christian service if only the gay would go away.

I feel like it’s Groundhog’s Day because here we go again.

In May 2005, I published an article in several papers nationwide. My hope was that with a change in leadership, Bob Jones University in Greenville, SC would improve in its treatment of lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer students, faculty and staff. Sadly, not only have my hopes been dashed in that regard but it also seems that Dr. Bob Jones III hasn’t gone anywhere. On the contrary although he is officially the chancellor, he appears to be running the show at 1700 Wade Hampton Blvd. as much as ever. With that in mind, I’m republishing this piece here. It’s time for the homophobia to end.

As I look at my life, I see different threads. I see the thread of fundamentalism. I see the thread of my sexuality. I see the thread of my current work within the church. I once viewed these as separate aspects of my life that have brought me to this place. But now, I see these as one consistent beautiful thread, woven together over time with tears and laughter, which have brought me to this place for such a time as this.

As a straight mother of three, you may not think I fit the demographics of someone who would be posting on this blog but after reading the other posts I found I could relate to their feelings and experiences on many levels, especially in regards to the confusion and damage wrought by extremism.
You see, I too am a recovering fundamentalist and I attended Bob Jones University. I have a gay brother and a gay son, and have spent years “coming out” of the legalism and fundamentalism that kept me submissive, judgmental and guilt-ridden.

The weight holding me down had, at times, nearly crushed me. This is why I must speak, why I must share my story. The pain, the shame, the guilt, the fear – all of these unwarranted emotions were perpetuated by a system that sits in smug self-righteous judgment over those who do not acquiesce to its prescribed mold. I always knew I was different, but I couldn’t exactly figure why or how. I was never a paragon of masculinity to say the least. Awkward and clumsy on the ball-field, I was much more at home singing in the choir, playing the piano, and – perish the thought – even dancing. It seemed that everyone – even my family – knew long before I did. Or well, at least before I could admit it, anyway. After all, growing up in a fundamental Baptist home, sexuality is not something that you would ever discuss.

I was born again at an early age, was in Christian schools or homeschooled K-12. I never seriously considered other colleges than BJU. I stayed on for grad work, then taught full time for another 4 years. Growing up, I lived a very sheltered life. We didn’t have a television, and we didn’t watch secular movies, except for the occasional ’50s era Disney comedy. I had never heard the term gay or homosexual, never saw it modeled, wasn’t molested by anyone, and had what I thought were normal, balanced parents.

My family didn’t actually attend church until after my parents divorced. My mom then became quite involved in church groups and Bible studies, and when I was in junior high we started attending our first Independent Fundamental Baptist (IFB) church. The area where we lived didn’t have many Christian school options, so I attended public school along with many of the other teens in our youth group. It was generally expected that we would all attend a Christian university once we graduated from high school.

I was born on the campus of Bob Jones University and spent all of my formative years there as a student in Bob Jones Elementary School, Junior High School and Academy. I even spent half a semester as a college freshman at Bob Jones University until a bout with pneumonia revealed that God had other plans for me.

I was eight years old when I began to discover my attraction to other males. At first, I was confused by my crushes on older boys, by the feelings I had towards my closest male friends, and by my gradual awareness of sexual feelings that I could not discuss with anyone. This terrifying, lonely secret slowly consumed me.