The Hungry Soul: A Literary Magazine -- Essays: Spirituality of Lesbian and Gay Men

Seeking a Spiritual Context
in the Lives of Lesbians and Gay Men.

The following are two "coming out" stories that reflect the soul searching we must all face in understanding and accepting who we really and are based on interviews of lesbian and gay men in a book entitled: Much More Than Sexuality: Listening to 70 Gay people Talk About Their Lives
edited by Liz and John Sherblom

I went to divinity school, just to talk about God. It had nothing to do with going into the ministry. I was fascinated with religion and spirituality and figured, here's a place that at least, there are going to be other people to talk with about this stuff. I have a Faith and use the term God, but that's a loaded term. I prefer "that which is divine." To put it in my mother's words, "God always provides." Mom's right. I know that I'll be taken care of.

I was born and raised in a northwest suburb of Chicago. My father is an educated man with an MBA, and a very hard working mid-western businessman from Iowa. Mom is from western Illinois. They're both real good Midwestern people, the epitome of the American dream with two kids, and my brother was the three-sport jock. I love my family very much, but I feel like my upbringing was about as shallow as the two-dimensional photograph you see of the white middle class suburban WASP family.

A minister and a musician are the two things that I've always wanted to be, but I wouldn't pursue the ministry, because I always felt like I was a deviant. My actions were not as pure as my faith, so I couldn't be a minister.

I always had a boyfriend, I did everything to look good. I did everything that I was supposed to and nothing that I wanted to, except for music. Something was always missing.

I had girlfriends, too, and with them, I had really deep, intense friendships. They were emotionally charged, though I had no physical relationship with them. I was always taught, you have the physical relationships with boys.

When I was in college, I was ready to get married to my fiance, settle down and have kids, teach Sunday school and piano lessons; and when the kids were old enough, I'd deliver mail to keep myself busy and keep my legs looking nice. I was also anorexic and bulimic, but this did not suggest a problem to me. This was how I left the States and went to England to spend my junior year abroad. I had my long hair. I was a sorority girl and was just as wholesome as can be. I brought an American nag with me, pictures of Ronald Reagan and Bob Dole, and I was a born again Christian.

One of the first people I met when I got there was another American woman. We were lonely and scared, and we were both Americans, so we started palling around. Our friendship got really intense, but I wasn't going to tell her that I had these feelings for her. Then one time, we were in her room. I was lying on the side of her bed, waiting for her to get ready to go out. She stuck her hand out, and I stuck my hand out. She went to pull me up and she just kissed me from nowhere. That is one kiss I will never forget. It was a kiss that I longed for, and it was so tender. For me it was like the opening of Pandora's box. I knew that this was the way that I wanted to be kissed.

It was hell after that, because of my feelings for her, the fact that we had kissed, the fact that I'd kissed a woman. In the meanwhile, I was thinking, "Wait a minute, I'm supposed to be in love with my fiance. What happened to him?"

At the end of my junior year, I went back and I finished up college. I said, "I will date a man one last time." There was a guy that I'd had this wild crush on ever since my freshman year. I knew that if he wasn't going to do it, nobody was. He was available and I was available, so we made a date to go to Homecoming. We didn't even go. We just had wild sex in my dorm room, but at the end I felt, "It's not going to work; forget it." He was really the barometer. So, basically, I threw in the towel and said, "OK, just live with it. Love is love."

I had a friend my first year in divinity school. She was a very formidable figure, my godsend, in that she was the final push to me being true and honest. I'll never forget her saying, "The only thing I require from my friends is that they're honest," but I didn't know how to be honest. I had lied all my life. It was a challenge, because I was having to change everything, just so I could be friends with her. Then, we ended up getting involved.

That summer I went to Greece, and I carried with me my relationship with her. There is this mountain range there that juts out into the Aegean. It's known as Sappho's Profile, and every night, I would go to sleep under it. Every day, I would spend amidst her profile. There was something unearthly drawing me to it. I'm from the Midwest, and I'd never climbed a mountain in my life, but I had to climb this mountain. The ascent up the mountain is a sensation that's difficult to explain. I was bare-breasted, and I was sliding in and out of the sun. It was liberating. I got up to the top of this mountain, and I remember looking out. Everything was little clouds, and it was peaceful. I just sat up there and meditated. I'd never meditated before, but something hit me. I didn't know what it was, but it was big. I felt like my energy totally shifted around, and something was stripped away. I sat there for hours. I finally said, "That sensation is God." For the rest of my time there, in my quiet, personal time, I sat on the beach, I communed with women, and I had that feeling. It was really powerful and beyond my comprehension.

When I came back, I stayed with my friend, only to find out that she wanted to break up with me. She talked about how come I'm not right for her, what's wrong in our relationship, what she needed, and what I couldn't give. I was traumatized.

Then I went back home to come out to my family. It was my sister-in-law's birthday, and I was going out to dinner with my family. I wondered how I was going to come out to them. I wanted to do the mass family gathering and just tell everybody at once.

At dinner my mother starts trying to set me up with the waiter. She says, "Well, he looks like so-and-so at the office. You know, you and so-and-so would get along great. You have so much in common." I said, "Mom, he's an architect. I like architecture; that's all we have in common." I was very angry.

That night, we went home. I stayed at my parents' house, and it was raining. I was sitting in my bathroom smoking. It's pouring down rain, and I'm furious with my mother. I was also furious with myself because I didn't come out to my family. I was watching the storm outside, when literally from nowhere this lightening bolt comes crashing from the sky into our neighbor's yard, slicing down their willow tree, which was as old as their house. I didn't know I had bitten off all my nails; I didn't even feel the cigarette burning my fingers. It was all in slow motion. Even the raindrops were in slow motion. Something lifted me up from sitting. nut me in front of the mirror, and made me look at myself. I looked at myself and said, "I have to come out to my mother." Then something carried me into my mother's bedroom. I have to say it was a power beyond me.

My mother woke up and said, "Can't you sleep because of the storm?" I thought, "Which storm?" I said, "Not exactly. I need to talk with you." It was three o'clock in the morning, but she got up and came into my room. She says, "What's wrong?" I said, "Mom, I've really got to talk to you." This was the first time I had ever spoken up for myself. I said, "You did something that really made me mad during dinner. I was really offended by the way you talked about the waiter. I am not interested in dating this guy at the office, and I do not find you humorous; I do not appreciate it, and I'm not interested. I think you know it's been over three years since I've been involved in a relationship with a man, and I think you know what I'm trying to tell you."

I just looked out the window, and she's says, "Are you a lesbian?" I said, "Yes," and a weight was gone. It was great. Then, her first question was, "Have you seen a doctor?" I was like, "Ok, breathe, Virginia, breathe." I said, "I'm in therapy, but not because of my sexuality. It's because of having to rebel against it, be quiet and hide from it, and tell all these lies. That has really created turbulence in my soul. That's why I'm in therapy." Her next question was, "Are you the boy or the girl?" I wanted to scream, "What a stupid question!" but I ended up saying, "That thought's from the old school, Mom. It's not a matter of being a boy or a girl. It's a matter of love, and it just so happens that the people I find myself engaged with, where my soul meets and merges, are women."

Then I became a wreck. I told her I was going through a break-up with my girlfriend. She became supportive, because here was her daughter crying about the fact that she's going through a break-up with love. She gave me a lot of support. We stayed up for three hours, and I told her everything. It was great.

That morning I went back into Chicago and wrote a paper for school called "Chameleon." It was about the ethics and etiquette of my family dynamic. I talked about how I can't even tell them I smoke, so how can I tell them I'm involved with women. Two days later, I dropped this paper off at my brother and sister in-law's house. Basically, I came out to them through that paper. I talked with them later, and my brother took me out to lunch. It was classic. He says, "Well, you know what? I don't think you're very happy." I said, "I'm going through a break-up. How do you expect me to be happy?" It was incredible.

So, I was out to three of the four members of my immediate family. I didn't come out to my dad until a year after. He was going through so much at the time. He was working and not working, getting money and not getting money. They were going to sell the house; they were not being to sell the house. It was very difficult, so I ended up not telling him for the longest time, until I got involved in a very passionate relationship with another woman and broke up. I was a wreck.

My father did the standard, "If it's a true friendship, it will last." After two months of crying on the phone to them, I finally just said, "Dad, I really didn't want to do this on the phone, but I've got to tell you. She's more than just a friend. She's my lover." So basically I told him the story. He's a quiet man, and he listened. After about 45 minutes, he said, "Well, I'm attracted to women." I said, "Well, Pop, so am I." There was a dramatic pause. Then he said, "Well, as long; as we're not being after the same one, I guess there's not a problem." I'm thinking, this man is too cool; he's not coping.

So, two days later I call back for a follow-up conversation. I said, "Well, Dad, I know we had this great conversation. It was emotional and stirring, but I just wanted to re-visit it to see how you were doing." This time he talked for 45 minutes. To sum up that conversation, he didn't want anybody to reject me or hurt me. I said, "The only thing that would hurt would be the disapproval and rejection of my family." I was wondering if that was what he was struggling with, but he never really said anything about that or showed any emotion. It wasn't so much an issue for him as it was for Mom.

After I came out to my father, I decided to go into the ministry. That was the last of the lies. Everyone who needed to know now knew, and I realized that I was a good person. This is something that I'd wanted since I was eight. I've got to do it. So here I am, I have a year left of school, and I'm loving it.

The fact that I can love is a new discovery. The fact that I can cry and have it be a catharsis is a new discovery. The fact that I can meet individuals that society calls the dregs and identify a closeness and feel something between us that is deeper than all the plastic that surrounds us, a humanness deeper than one's sexuality, is a new discovery. The only way I can explain it is this Higher Power, something more than ourselves. You can call it God, Goddess, or Great Spirit. It's in the feeling between two people, and between yourself and nature. All the outer trappings, whether substance abuse, lying in the gutter, prostitutes, priests, great and wonderful people, when all that goes by the wayside, you come down to a little spark. I like to call it "grace."

I went through hell growing up, wondering who I was, and finally getting married. My whole life was one that was hidden, out of fear. On the outside, I was a success by anybody's standard--well-dressed, great job--but I can remember walking out of my home with a briefcase and all the trappings of success and feeling worthless inside, a nobody. I think a lot of gay people have experienced that.

I met my wife when I was 23, and we married. I love this woman. I love her for her intuition, her goodness, her intelligence, her nurturing, and for our children. Yet, there was something missing that she could not give me, nor I give to her. It's sad. It'll always be sad. There will always be a melancholy about it, and there will always be a pain. It's like ripping a vital part out of me and out of her. I can't describe the pain, but a certain amount of it will always be there.

We went through counseling, psychologists, and psychiatrists, even a nutritional biochemist. We went through hell. We had to get a lot of feelings out. We knew we had to do something. Over a period of three years, we separated, I moved in here, and we've been going to therapy. Now we're in the business of divorce. We have closed the door on a marriage and opened another one on a harmonious friendship.

I had met a young man. Our birthdays were ten days apart, and we were built alike. Over the course of six months, I became really attracted to him. I'll never forget him. I experienced something with him that I had never experienced in my life, but it was frightening. I had a wife--a wonderful woman--and we had four children.

I also had a lot of physical ailments: stomach trouble and heart trouble. Because I worked in the pharmaceutical field as a sales representative, I knew doctors that I called on as part of my job. I met one doctor who did all kinds of tests, and he thought I should have some psychiatric treatment. So I embarked on getting psychiatric help.

When I first went into the hospital, I told my wife I was having homosexual feelings. She didn't understand. We went together to talk to the doctors at the hospital, and they told us that this was a symptom of other things. "We'll clear the depression, and that will go away." I went to 16 different doctors. Neither the depression nor the homosexual feelings went away.

I got more depressed, had more hospitalization, got more shock treatments. I had nineteen electric shock treatments to change me from being homosexual to being straight. On the twentieth, I said "No."

Then I went the religious route. I called on priests. I met a priest over lunch and divulged my personal feelings. He said, "Well, why don't we make an appointment for you to come to the rectory?" Once I was there, he maneuvered me in such a way to get me upstairs to his bedroom. I freaked out. I could not say no, so I just turned and left. That was extremely disturbing. It crippled me for months. Eventually, I became disabled and lost my job. When I could no longer take the pain, I attempted suicide.

Finally, I went to see my cousin, an Episcopal priest. He is also a gay man who started out in the civil rights movement and is now a street priest. He has designed an AIDS agency to help people out in the street. He says these are his people. After spending a week with him, I came back, went to the AIDS Project, and joined the Buddy program.

I took on a 36-year-old former prisoner, IV-drug user, drug peddler, uneducated, very hard-core person. I have a college education, come from an upper middle class family, and have all the trappings of a white Anglo-Saxon Protestant, in spite of being brought up Catholic. We hit it off. I connected with him. We talked about almost everything.

I drove him back and forth to the doctor's office. He kept putting his hand on my arm and saying, "Ted, it's so good to have a buddy who's straight that I can talk to." That went on for six months. Before me, he had had three other buddies. All of them were gay men, and he had trouble with that. He was homophobic and hated gays. I'd been introduced as, "This is Ted. He lives with his wife. He has four children and five grandchildren." He had come up to my house, and my wife liked him. I figured, "Some day I'm going to have to tell this man that I'm gay. I cannot go under this pretense any more. I am deceiving this man, and it's not fair; not just to him, but to me." My wife and I were separating, and I was moving in here.

One day, we were on the way home from the hospital and had stopped at a red light. Again, he was talking: "It's good to have a straight buddy. I hope some day, if you're ever in this position, Ted, you'll find a friend like I have in you." At that red light, I turned to him, and I said, "Joe, I have something to tell you." I looked at him, then I turned my head forward and just stared out front at the traffic light again. I said, "Joe, I'm a gay man." I could see him out of the corner of my eye. He was still for the longest time, then all of a sudden, I saw him jump around quick, and out come his hands. I thought he was going to hit me, but he put his arms around my head, drew me over to him, and kissed me. He says, "You know, Ted, nobody has ever trusted me like you do."

Today, Richard is my partner. He is younger than I am. There's 30 years difference. We've been together about a year and a half, almost two years now. I don't know what to make of this relationship, but I know that we're soulmates. I don't know how these things come about. We don't have the necessary role models, and I still get confused about the marriage vows I took with my wife.

I think my goal in life is to be self-loving, and self-respecting, so that no matter what comes along, I have something to fall back on. I believe there is something higher than us, and it's comforting to feel that.

ABOUT THE INTERVIEWS:
The stories in this book are those of 70 gay and lesbian people who volunteered to talk about their lives as they live and feel them. They are distilled from interviews conducted by Liz Sherblom between February and June of 1993 in the Northeastern United States. Although they have been edited for brevity and narrative focus, they are in the participants' own words. We have made every effort to maintain the spirit of each person and the context of their words.

Each chapter represents an individual interview and has been approved for inclusion in the book by the participant(s). Some names have been changed for the sake of privacy; others, following the participant's preference, have not.

Much More Than Sexuality is intended to allow people of all sexual orientations to get to know a number of "ordinary" gay people--people whose lives and values are no different from those of most others in our society today, people who could be and are our sons or daughters, brothers, sisters, aunts, uncles, parents, friends, partners, colleagues, or even ourselves. We hope to achieve a greater appreciation of the basic humanity we all share, so we can begin to dismantle the barrier of otherness based upon sexual orientation.