He made going to church fun, and I might have felt included-if I was a boy. During my teen years, our parish brought on a charismatic priest who sported a Tom Selleck, Magnum P.I. My devout mom and dad, both educated at Catholic universities, held the Church in the highest regard, and my mother once told me that AIDS was God’s wrath against homosexuals. I grew up gay and Catholic in the Texas Bible Belt. Why would I want to belong to a belief system that caused me so much harm? I’d be more accepted by my own kind if I decided to become a Log Cabin Republican than a church-going lesbian. It’s an outdated and oppressive institution. We don’t need Christianity, they tell me. On the flip side, many of my gay brethren scoff at my determination to be affiliated with religions that rejected, condemned, and scarred us. To many evangelical Christians, Catholics, and Protestants, I’m an oxymoron. Is there a place for me? I’m still not sure. I’m counting on the societal shifts on issues like gay bullying and gay marriage and hoping they translate to gay Christianity too. Though I’m forty-seven years old, it’s taken me this long to come to terms with my faith and the fear of backlash against it.
