"Queer as Faith"
by Nathan Gunter

Queer as Faith is a weekly column by Nathan Gunter.  Unconventional and thought-provoking, Nathan writes as a gay Christian struggling to live authentically in the real world.

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Week 22:
Your Mom Already Knows
(and other coming-out pointers)

Before we begin, I must give mega-props to my roommate, Gabe, who helped me out with what I consider a considerable writing challenge, and several other friends whom I had to call or IM for their pointers. So I can’t take total credit for writing this. This is a story from the tribe, to the tribe.

I realized recently that our little world here at GCN has become a big resource for people who are still in the closet and asking a lot of questions about coming out, about being gay, and about their own spiritual journey. Many of the people here are much wiser than I, and I can recommend you several books that you must read in whatever stage of coming out that you may find yourself. For example, Taking a Chance on God by John J. McNeill is great.

But it occurred to me that there aren’t too many resources about the coming-out process itself, and that I (and many people I know and love) have a great deal of wisdom on the subject. They always say that if you have a story that you want to tell, that you must tell it, so then it will be in the world for others to find. So that’s what I’m doing. My coming-out experience was difficult, painful, liberating, and quite possibly life-saving, much like having a child. But I must warn you that coming out, like becoming a parent, has its moments of terror. You realize about ten minutes before the child is born – when it’s too late to go back – that you don’t actually like children and shouldn’t be having any (my mom tells me this is the case). Same thing with coming out. At the last minute, when there’s no turning back, you realize that you’re messing up your whole life, and you should keep hanging out in the closet on your hanger with the moths where it’s safe. But the door’s already flung wide open and there you are, and you’ll find that it’s not so terrible. It might even save you.

In my coming out I learned some things, and I wanted to share them. And I realized as I began jotting these things down on a yellow pad that other people, smarter people, have learned things too, things that never dawned on me. And, well, I don’t have the personality for learning things the hard way (or the mental acuity for learning them the easy way, most of the time). My dad says that the School of Life is like this: you take the test first, and then you get the lesson. I’m hoping we can all just avoid that, so I’m going to share with you some pointers gleaned from several people’s experiences.

Number One, your mom already knows. She may not know that she knows, or what it is she doesn’t know, but she knows it nonetheless. Moms, it turns out, are physically incapable of having the wool pulled over their eyes for long. However, the counterbalance to this is that moms are pretty much all about the unconditional love. Well, most moms. Your mom might be like Joan Crawford…no, no, I’m sure she’s fine. She’s not perfect, and you probably get most of your issues from her, but like I said, I’m sure she’s fine and your issues are miniscule.

No matter what your mom is like – because most moms are somewhere between June Cleaver and Joan Crawford – she’s probably already got your number somewhere in her mind, and she’s just waiting for you to let her know. And you know what? She loves you. It’s just a simple fact. She was kind enough to let you share her body with her for nine months, and she loves you. She does it in her own imperfect, demanding way, and it drives you nuts, but she does. And while she may have all sorts of theological or social issues around your sexual orientation, she wants to understand. She wants to know what’s going on with you. It took me 23 years to even begin to figure this out, but it’s actually true. Now she may be worried about you when you tell her, because she wants you to pass, to get an A in life. All moms want that for their children, but eventually they have to let go of the dream, because let’s face it, she’s no Honor Roll student herself. But – again – she is wonderful in her own insane way and she loves you. Be comforted by this.

And if it’s not your mom, if she really is clueless, take comfort in the fact that you’re not fooling everyone. Somebody’s got you figured out, and it’s someone you love, who wishes you no harm, and who will be glad to hold your hand while you go through this.

Which brings me to my Number Two pointer: assemble your own little Fab Five around you. Most of us in this life are lucky to have a Fab One. You need assistance, because none of us can handle this level of mental illness alone. And I hate to ruin the fairy tale (pun intended), but in your coming out you will feel not only mentally but physically ill, as if you’ve come down with leukemia and Legionnaire’s disease all in one week. If you’re especially prone to stress (like certain me who shall remain nameless) you’ll need all the help you can get. Now, this may mean that you need to upgrade your friends, because let’s face it, there are people in our lives whom we love, but are like stones around our necks, especially in times of crisis. You don’t need perfect friends – I mean, would you really fit in? – but you need people who love you and can take care of you. You need people who can bring you things like hope and prayers and Tiramisu, because when you have those, what else is there, really?

The good news here is something we’ve been hearing from Jesus since we staggered into this relationship with him: you not only need to be receiving assistance, you also need to be giving it. And I promise – Promise with a capital P – that there is someone out there who needs your help. There’s someone who, like you, is hanging on by the skin of his teeth wondering where to go from here. We’re just made to take care of each other, and sometimes that’s the best way to loosen the leash you’ve got on yourself, is to go help someone else plant bulbs, or cry, or register to vote.

And they’ll test your patience, these wonderful, scarred people that Jesus has plopped into your life, because they can’t love you perfectly – or be loved perfectly by you – any more than they can fry an egg with their meanest glare. But when you let yourself be loved and cared for, and you love and care for them in return, the fever will break eventually and you’ll start to stand on less-wobbly knees again.

And as for standing, don’t let anyone tell you who to be. Your coming out is all about putting an end to all the bullcrap in your life, all these unnecessary ways you’ve been using up all your energy to make sure no one finds out. If someone tells you you’re not gay enough – or that you’re too gay – when all you’re doing is watching a football game or listening to a Tina Turner CD, let them know in the most loving, Jesus-like tone you have, to kindly go leap from a cliff. If your gayness can in fact be seen from space, then let the flame burn bright. But if you’re more of a Will – and there’s nothing wrong with all us Wills out there – then by all means be you. You have to understand, to internalize, that you are loved exactly as you are, or you will never, ever make it in this neighborhood.

You see, coming out is like conversion in a way: you’re finding out the truth about who you are. This is what life really entails, after all. You have to find out who you really are in order to be genuine in this world. Your coming out is all about following your conscience, about doing what you know is right. If you’ve come so far as to find GCN, and to read this piddly little column, you probably have some idea that the Spirit is nudging you in some way.

Coming out is so much like the rest of our lives: it’s all about family, and about doing what is right. Those are the only two things that there are for us. The good thing about having lurched into this relationship with Jesus is that we can count all of humanity as family, and that we have the Spirit, wind-like and unpredictable though she may be, to guide and comfort us as we wobble up that rocky mountain path of doing the right thing.

And as for your family – both biological and otherwise – be kind to them. You’re doing about the kindest thing you can do for yourself by coming out, and you have to realize that you’ve had your entire life up to this point to deal with these facts about yourself. So be patient with them like you’ve been patient with yourself (or, more accurately, be more patient with them than you’ve been with yourself). They’re going to need some time to process, just like you had to deal with your mom’s penchant for turning your speeding tickets into a therapy session about how ungrateful you are. You can’t make them see through your eyes, and eventually you’ll get tired of trying.

In the meantime, find your own resources for dealing with this experience. Maybe it will be relatively painless and quick, like ripping off a Band-Aid. Or maybe you will need lifelong therapy and a permanent prescription for Valium. Most likely it will be somewhere between the two, and you’ll find out that you lived through it mostly intact. So find resources. Read books, like McNeill, and William Countryman. Watch movies like Get Real. Talk and listen to your friends. Overeat just a little, because I promise, someone along the way will try to pawn their food issues off on you, and you so don’t need that. Go for walks and drives, and be kind to yourself.

Oh, and I almost forgot this one. This is supremely important. Looking nice is a great thing, it can do wonders for your confidence, and if you’ve been walking by Express and too scared to go in, by all means do so. But don’t spend all your time wearing pants that seem to want to talk to you about your diet and exercise regimen. You’ve got enough to worry about, enough voices from all sides, without having to have conversations with your clothes as well.

Dance, and celebrate, and find your joy. Learn to love, because if you don’t try to learn to love then you are so screwed that we can’t help you. Love yourself, and love your enemies, and your family, and your friends, because when you do you’ll feel just plain less crazy. Bake cookies, and have parties, and get out of the house once in awhile. Flirt with old people and the cashier at the 7-11. Read Galatians. Go swimming. Send money to the Human Rights Campaign.

You’re going to be fine, you know. We all are. We all lived through childhood, and the greater portion of two Bush administrations, and if we did that we can tackle anything. Love, money, equal marriage rights: those things will come in time. You have to have faith, because faith is the broken-down automobile that will get us there.

Nothing in this life goes according to plan, which is the most frustrating thing about it. It’s also the biggest gift, because it teaches us to let go and enjoy the ride, even the ugly parts we wish were over. Coming out won’t be easy for you, and if it is, then send me an email and I’ll be glad to send you a nickel. But it won’t kill you either. It will change you, and it might save you from becoming too wrapped up in yourself and your constant paranoia and fear.

When you’re ready, find someone else whose hand you can hold while they take those first tentative steps out into the light. You’ll be able to tell them how immensely fine they’re going to be, how fine and fabulous, and you’ll know the immense joy of being someone’s ancestor, someone’s teacher, and maybe you’ll get – for just a second – how it feels to be the lover of someone’s soul.

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