Growing up I was raised in a fairly religious household. My mother was a born-again Christian and my father was a meek alcoholic that basically went along with whatever my domineering mother commanded for fear that she might slap him. It was probably this dynamic that lead to my interest in atypical gender roles in relationships and my sister's strict adherence to traditional hetero-normative gender roles in her marriage.
We went to church every Sunday morning no matter how late we were, and we were always late. We were like the funky bunch when we went to church. My mother always wore a skirt and hat and oftentimes a pair of lace gloves. She was the quintessential goddess of religious piety, self-righteousness oozing from every pore of her perfectly manicured ensemble. I think to her religious zealot was a role to play, one that would win her an Oscar. In blazing contrast were my sister, father, and I. We were always disheveled, unkempt, and loud. My father was a type 1 diabetic and even had a few blood sugar reactions where EMS was called. My sister and I were constantly bickering in the pews and wore whatever the fuck we wanted. We were not complacent to abide by my mother's guidelines, and unlike my father we were not deterred by the slap. In church my father, sister, and I were the antithesis of my mother, and she was beyond aware of this. I can only imagine what the other parishioners actually thought of us, and the rumors that were spread beyond our backs. I think I feel the worst for my mother because she tried so hard to create this fantasy of our family, but the reality always fell remarkable short.
My mother did not believe in baptism at birth, and so my sister and I were to commit to believer's baptism when we felt so compelled. I don't want to portray my sister and I as godless heathens. We most certainly enjoyed aspects of Christianity and believed in God, but we did it without all the fuss and pretense of my mother. I had a very casual, informal relationship with God. My prayers were conversations and God was really more of a father figure as my father was very much absent from that role. I would definitely say that I had a very strong relationship with God from the ages of 10 to about 20, and it was at the age of 12 that I made the choice to be baptized.
It was a balmy day in May (I believe) and my entire extended family was present to watch me have water sprinkled on my head like a babe and receive some pointless certificate. Seriously, I got a certificate for having water put on my head. Was I going to need to present this to future employers to ensure that I was now marked as one of God's chosen? I'm sure it was a very moving moment for my proud mother as her children MADE the choice to join the ranks of God's elect.
In just a few months we would switch churches and move to a smaller community church in an urban setting that was teeming with families with children. My mother thought it was important that we socialized with other religious children, and her choice was a good one. The only friends that I still have that I made before college are friends that I made in church. Sure at this point we have differing views on a gamete of things, but there is an importance and intimacy that comes with knowing someone for many years that is hard to forget.
It was in this church that my religiosity really took root. As I grew up I went on missions trips, lead drama for a children's summer Bible program, and studied the Bible as well as any teenager. I even took the purity pledge to remain abstinent until marriage (this obviously did not last). I was definitely drinking the Kool-Aid and loving it. I think it was easier to be a religious teenager because so many of the issues that make me abhor the church now never really came into to play. We never discussed homosexuality, and attending church in a urban neighborhood we were constantly engaged in helping "outsiders." It was a church community that served and tried to bolster the community. My church growing up was not focused on what kind of Christian you were, but on love and the love that we should show one another, and that should be a universal belief.
Once I began college I wasn't home as much and my attendance at my home church lapsed, and I was often too hung-over on Sunday mornings to attend church while at college. Finally, I suppose the fact that my current lifestyle and the lifestyle that I had were no longer congruent and that posed problems with my belief system. I began having premarital sex in the context of a committed relationship, and I no longer felt that it was going to send me straight to the fiery depths of hell, nor did my soul cry out in guilt and shame after each subsequent orgasm. I understand that religion enjoys its laws and rules, yet I began to doubt whether they were all real and necessary. However, it was really after college that my final breaks with the church occurred.
First, my home church fell apart and was in shambles when I returned from college. There were many conflicts among the pastor and parishioners, and the mission of the church changed from one of community to a more doctrine focused goal. I was never really big on doctrine, and I don't really respond well to people telling me what to do. I am prone to breaking rules that I do not agree with, and religion tends to have a way of attempting to force ambiguous and tireless boundaries upon our lives. Secondly, I no longer am the person I was when I returned from college. University opened my eyes to a more liberal way of thinking that did not coincide with the judgmental attitude that my mother, sister, and much of my church chose to judge the world. I was more conscious about people and the various systems that influenced their lives. Life was not black or white, but was a plethora of shades and colors that needed to be studied like a priceless painting. I was interested in seeing a person's whole before damning them to hell or calling them a scourge on the world.
Coming out and responding to the arguments from my religious friends and family caused me to feel ashamed of my Religion, the Religion that I stood by and defended through my young adulthood. It was as though my thoughts, feelings, and arguments meant nothing. It didn't matter how much work I had done for my religious community or that I still had a personal relationship with God. The very fact that I was now admitting to being attracted to men and acting on those thoughts and feelings negated everything, and I could see the look in my mother's eyes that I was a deserter and needed to be stopped.
I will never forget the night that she invited a religious "counselor" to our home to talk to me about my choices. I was too old at this point to let her opinions influence mine, and I stood my ground that I was in no way going to humor her efforts to influence me. The interaction was actually fairly benign and this man mainly just asked me questions about myself and responded politely, mostly he just listened. At one point I began to question my mother on her motives and feelings and she froze, and this man I had just met had to answer my questions for her. I think I lost a lot of respect for my mother that night. It was enough that she was willing to judge me as a person and say disrespectful things to me, but it was an entirely different thing to bring a man to my home to question my beliefs without her being able to state her own arguments and feelings. My mother still goes to these support groups for friends and family of members of the LGBT community who believe they are going against God's divine plan, and she has one of those obnoxious bumper stickers advocating for keeping marriage heterosexual. Sure these things are hard for me to stand, but I just have to brush it off, we don't get to chose our family and I suppose that I hope that she will accept me one day because I'm most certainly never going to deny myself of who I am.
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