But I Was Wrong

Before you read another word of my post this evening, I'd like to remind those of you who've been reading along with me for a while that I rarely write about political topics. The reason I don't write about politics isn't because I don't care about political issues, but rather because I do care ... in fact, I care more than any of you will ever know. I've received thousands of emails over the last months asking me to weigh in on the candidates in our recent presidential election, and I've adamantly refused to do so. But in response to the outcome of the election and the flood of emails I've received over the last couple of days, I have a few thoughts I'd like to share.

I was 10 when I realized I was different than other girls, and I spent the next 42 years of my life trying to hide that realization from my family, from my friends and from myself. My life-saving head doctor would say there are multiple factors that keep gay people like myself desperately locked inside the closet, some of us for a lifetime. But she would also tell you that the most paralyzing of those factors is fear, and believe it or not, that is one thing on which I'm in complete agreement with the good doctor. I was afraid to tell the truth about my sexuality because I was terrified of losing everyone I loved. I was afraid of losing my reputation, my job, my place in the church, sometimes even my life. Those words are filled with irony, by the way, because that same fear pushed me to the point of believing that committing suicide would be better than admitting I was gay. Think about that for a minute ... I was so terrified of letting others know who I really was ... I was so afraid of their judgment and rejection that I was ready to take my own life.

It's been a little more than four years since I came falling out of the closet, and since then I've worked diligently to get past the fear that kept me locked away for more than four decades. And while there were still times when the old terror would wash through me, the fearful days grew less frequent with each passing day. I watched as legislation was passed to protect the rights of the LGBT community, and I thought that hate and prejudice based on race or sexuality or gender or nationality would soon be a thing of the past. But I was wrong. I thought I could finally put my fear to rest and know that I was safe and accepted and cherished for the person I am. But I was wrong. I thought that respect for all people and love would win the long, hard fight for equality. But I was wrong. In the blink of an eye, I now live in a country in which the newly elected President and Vice President have vowed to make eliminating pro-LGBT legislation one of their first orders of business when they take office. In the blink of an eye, the fear that held me captive for so many years is raging within my soul. I truly believed that I would never have to be afraid of being the real me again. But I was wrong.

I wore a bow tie to work today ... a very special orange and blue bow tie given to me by a friend a couple of years ago. I had to stop on my way home from work tonight and put gas in my car. As I was waiting on the tank to fill, a man at the pump next to me said, "Bet you aren't too happy about our new President, are you? He's going to make America great again and put you homo queers back where you belong and the real Americans are going to help him. Your days are numbered, ----." 

I thought the hate was finally ending. But I was wrong. I thought the fear was finally going away. But I was wrong. I still believe I'm right about the most important thing, though ... God's ways are higher than those of any man. Even the President of the United States of America.