Scapegoats

October 11 is National Coming Out Day, and October is LGBTQ+ History Month. I’m queer (the LGBTQ+ community took the word back), or more specifically, gay. I didn’t ask to be gay. I didn’t choose to be gay any more than you chose to be straight. The choice was made for us. I was born gay, and that identity doesn’t diminish my humanity or my worthiness in God’s eyes. While it brings no harm to others, they fear and hate me because of it. I see and hear frequent examples of that fear and hatred, as I have all my life, and it hurts me.

I was born gay and can do nothing to change that. My friends and neighbors were born trans and can do nothing to change that. Yet we’re shamed, feared, and judged unworthy of God’s love for something that is as much a part of us as our eye color or shoe size. We can do nothing to change it, because it is who we are. We’re judged for who we are.

I’m Christian. My connection to God and devotion to the teachings of Jesus are just as valid as yours. Neither God nor Jesus cast judgement upon me. You do. Your judgement and shame cause real harm to me and to others. It made me ashamed to be fully myself. It made me afraid to return to high school reunions or speak openly about my diverse friendships and experiences in St. Louis while on visits back to Iowa. I’m a shell of the person I could have been, due to the judgement and shame I internalized. I regret that those closest to me didn’t experience me as my full self. I especially regret Dad didn’t see me express myself fully before his passing.

It was a long road to acceptance. Along the way, I tried to avoid the truth. I got a book titled, “You Don’t Have to Be Gay” from the local library. I slid it across the counter to the library clerk, who stated, “Looks like you’ve got a lot to think about.” I confided in a couple church pastors. I even met with the representative of an ex-gay ministry, hoping to find answers. Eventually, a shift occurred. I finally stopped seeking guidance from those who condemned my identity and sought support from those who affirmed it.

I was very fortunate to be surrounded by supportive friends and family when I came out. While my life experience provided a very sheltered journey, I’m still afraid. I’m afraid I may be discovered as a gay man walking down the street in the wrong neighborhood or targeted after being observed by the wrong set of eyes. I’m afraid homophobic, transphobic, racist, and anti-immigrant voices have access to a wider platform than they did in the past. I’m afraid preying on fear and sowing hate is viewed as the winningest strategy by far too many elected officials.

This spring I learned of the 29 anti-LGBTQ+ bills circulating in the Iowa legislature and the 432 anti-trans bills being introduced across the country in 41 states. It saddens me that voters continue to elect officials who sponsor such hateful legislation. At this year’s Conservative Political Action Conference, Michael Knowles, of the Daily Wire stated, “Transgenderism must be eradicated from public life entirely, the whole preposterous ideology at every level.” His hate speech was met with loud applause.

Such situations really frighten me. I’m not hopeless though. I know transgender people cannot be eradicated. Their family and friends won’t allow it. I know those people who value equality and individuality far outnumber those who do not. I know the halls of our local, state, and national government offices are gradually welcoming a greater diversity of lawmakers who more closely resemble the constituents they represent. I know there are countless individuals who foster greater openness and understanding, simply by courageously expressing their full selves in every aspect of their lives.

For all those reasons, I am hopeful. I’m hopeful that timid voices, like my own, will draw from the many examples of strength and courage we see in others. In doing so, we’ll increase the volume of our own voices as we raise them to speak out against ignorance and hate, whenever they cross our path.

There is no eternal, heavenly reward for the judgement and shame directed at me or my transgender friends and neighbors. Our God, no matter how you visualize them, does not reward judgement, shame, hate, or fear, but only love. God IS love. For those who condemn us, your judgement is shameful. Our lives are not.

Scapegoats

Inspired by 29 anti-LGBTQ bills in the Iowa legislature & 432 anti-trans bills nationwide

I won’t cause you any harm,
Simply by the way I live.
Many though, condemn my life
As a sin you can’t forgive.

I wish you would take a breath,
Clear your mind, and look within.
Should an honest act of love
Truly be considered sin?

We are not that far apart.
We both want a happy life.
Happiness for me just comes
With a husband, not a wife.

There are those who profit from
Spreading fear and sowing hate
So that they can make the rules
After each election date.

They do not care that I’m gay
Or that my neighbor is trans.
They just stoke your fear of us
‘Cause it feeds into their plans.

We’re pushed to opposing sides
Of their line drawn in the sand
So we will not reach across
To shake one another’s hand.

Their goal is to separate.
They divide us into teams,
Branding us as enemies
Who cannot share common dreams.

If you’re pitted against me,
And I’m told I must hate you,
We will fight amongst ourselves,
Just as they would like us to.

Those desperate to stay in power
Want us at each other’s throats.
They use me and my queer friends
As their demonized scapegoats.

I was born into the world
As a queer man, that is true.
But I’m not your enemy.
I harbor no hate for you.

We can meet on common ground
Where our values overlap,
Then we’ll vote the con men out,
Putting an end to their crap.