"Those who try to save their lives will lose them, and those who lose their lives will save them."
--Gospel According to Luke
ineteen ninety-five was a hard
year. Another parent fought cancer. Our denomination demoted our congregation to
associate- member status because it has some gay and lesbian members.
Organizational restructuring at both our jobs prompted lay-off jitters. A close
friend with AIDS died. And three members of our gay family moved away, leaving
us with a gay equivalent of empty-nest syndrome.
It was midday on a Sunday shortly after Christmas--after a tense Saturday evening. Worship had not erased our resentments against each other when we walked into the living room after church. There we discovered the Christmas tree toppled on its side. Lights had fallen askew. Baubles had been scattered. As we lifted the tree, we discovered that only one ornament had broken. The new crystal globe that held a rainbow ribbon was smashed. The word stenciled on it lay in a thousand pieces. "Hope" was shattered.
Middle age has prompted the two of us to evaluate our lives. How have we come to understand ourselves as gay men? What pivotal experiences influenced our development? What have we lost in the process? What have we gained?
As we have come to know gay men of diverse backgrounds and contexts, we are realizing that gay identity development takes many forms, depending on how it is affected by ethnicity and class. We approach the issue as middle-class, European-American gay men who chose to come out of the closet.
Several of our gay African-American male friends wonder why we choose to be publicly gay. Having been denied power and privilege from birth, they choose not to give the dominant culture ammunition to disempower them further. Our White privilege continues to provide options they don't have, and they perceive correctly some qualitative differences in the nature of oppression.
In the United States, most men not of European descent as well as most women experience oppression chiefly as the denial of rights, options, power, and personal legitimacy. Skin color, gender, language, and accent trigger oppressive reflexes in most contexts. Minority individuals must engage these prejudices to get a job, find housing, gain access to services, or exercise political power. They must gain power in order to achieve a healthy self-identity and social justice.
Gay European-American males, on the other hand, experience oppression as the loss of rights, options, power, and personal legitimacy. Although we retain White privilege, public disclosure strips away straight-male privilege. The loss triggers grief and rage that influence how we move through life.
Socialized as members of the dominant culture, we grow up expecting equal access to power and privilege. We expect to be judged for our accomplishments as individuals. But soon our sexuality calls those assumptions into question.
Such questions launch gay White men, often unwillingly, through a series of life-stage crises. In the challenges we meet, gay European- American men may hear echoes of Jesus' invitation to grasp the mystery of loss that leads to fullness of life.
raditionally, gay
analysis has focused on the outcome--loss of job, social position, or economic
opportunity--and concluded that "all oppressions are the same." Indeed,
sexual-minority identity development closely parallels identity development for
other minorities. But gay White men must face key social, political, and
spiritual tasks presented by losing privilege.
In their book, Counseling American Minorities: A Cross-Cultural Perspective, Donald Atkinson, George Morten, and Derald Wing Sue identify five stages of cultural and racial identity development: conformity, dissonance, resistance and immersion, introspection, and synergy.
Most of us don't live our lives in neat patterns. For the two of us, life stages have been less a linear progression and more an ongoing cycle. Nevertheless, we recognize in these stages some common gay-White-male developments.
Atkinson, Morten, and Sue characterize the first stage, conformity, as sharing the dominant culture's negative viewpoint of one's own group and one's self. Early on, gay men internalize the message that homosexuality is not "normal."
Adults delight in pairing little boys and little girls. When little boys object, adults insist, "Someday you'll grow up and fall in love with a girl." Men who don't fall in love with a woman judge themselves to have "failed."
Most boys quickly adopt society's aversion to displays of affection between men. Children call each other "fag" to put each other down. So men initially experience desire for physical affection with other men as threatening or "disgusting."
Popular media reinforce the negative self-image. Television programs present all-but-frontal nudity in heterosexual love scenes. But network executives presume audiences can't handle a kiss between two fully-clothed individuals of the same gender.
Gay White men grow up measuring their worth--and that of other gay men--against conventional, negative standards. Too many of us believe gay men are sick or perverted. In adolescence, we both resisted "effeminate" qualities in ourselves. We initially viewed same-gender attraction as an undesirable "stage" to "grow out of." And both of us tried dating women in compliance with our vision of heterosexual "normalcy."
hat happens when a gay
person encounters someone or something that doesn't fit the expectations? Maybe
a favorite teacher who "seemed so normal" turned out to be gay. Perhaps an
incident of blatant discrimination forced a reevaluation of prejudices. Such
events lead us to the second stage in identity development among oppressed
groups-- dissonance.
Although such pivotal experiences prompt a broader understanding, most gay White men initially continue to judge each other by dominant cultural standards. Gay men who "look and act straight" might still be considered acceptable. Gay couples should mirror Ward and June in "Leave It to Beaver." No drag queens or Queer Nation, please.
Even after accepting our sexuality, both of us tended to believe that "normal" social roles might purchase full membership in the dominant society. We took pride in the fact that our relationship had lasted longer than some of our straight friends' marriages. (See how long-term monogamous we can be!). We "proved" that antigay biblical interpretations were mistaken. (See how biblical we are!)
We perceived discrimination as an aberration needing correction. If we presented the proper evidence, straight society would have to accept us. The pain of stigma and memories of straight privilege made us long to regain the "club card."
But the "club card" further eluded our grasp. The more we came out of the closet, the more the privileges of the dominant society were denied us. Seminary trained, both of us had doors close on church careers that we felt called to and had trained for. As a result, our economic status changed. Jobs, providing for a family, and financial independence largely define manhood in this culture. At times when only one of us has had a job or when we earned unequal incomes, the two of us have been forced to confront male-identity issues about control and dependency in our relationship.
Coming out of the closet also changed our social image. Even in familiar settings, we felt exposed and stigmatized. Some people we once knew well avoided us. Others conversed, but in strained tones. We no longer controlled our reputation. It was dominated by society's image of gayness and gay relationships. In church or public meetings, we were not perceived as individuals but as representatives of "the gay point of view."
uch profound loss of male
power and privilege, social dislocation, and economic adjustment commonly
engender two reactions: rage and grief.
The rage stems in part from constant stress. Every moment becomes critical for discerning the potential impact of behavior or information. Will an employer fear "undue influence" of sexuality in a gay applicant's work? Will homosexuality be judged a liability in the social networking required by certain positions? Being openly gay at work or in a volunteer capacity may threaten an institution--especially if right-wing movements influence its politics or funding. In some settings, men who appear gay may be physically assaulted. So gay men move through the world with antennae fully extended.
Gay rage is further fueled by betrayal. Gay White men have been raised to see life as a level playing field where each individual controls his or her own life. The American sermon preaches, "Work hard and you will succeed."
It's a lie. We are not equal. When we play by the rules, the rules change. In the church, for example, we are called unbiblical. When we prove our point biblically, we're told our interpretation is biased. When we demonstrate our views to be no less biased than straight views, the issue shifts to natural law--does the "plumbing" fit. Begin to discuss comparative heterosexual practices, and the problem becomes a lack of "family (i.e., heterosexual) values." Show gay families to be loving and healthy, and suddenly we're defying the authority of the church. It never ends.
"Hard work" doesn't guarantee success. We don't fit the dominant culture's standards even when we wear business suits, stay monogamous, or muster scientific, philosophical, or theological arguments supporting our "normalcy." Not every boy can grow up to be President.
The rage resulting from this realization can be either dangerous or empowering. We both learned early in life to view anger as bad and suppress it. As openly gay men, both of us have had to struggle with oppression's accompanying depression. Our counselors must repeat the axiom, "Depression is often anger turned inward."
But we have found that anger turned outward can also be problematic. Even when external circumstances make us angry, we easily target each other because our relationship provides a relatively safer context than public social situations. A significant task in our development and the development of gay men has been to find productive channels for rage.
Grief is the other common response to the loss of male privilege and opportunity. It hurts that some dreams will not be realized. Both of us had to grieve dreams of officially commissioned church leadership. Many gay men lament images of weddings and family that depended on fulfilling heterosexual models.
Grief, like rage, can threaten men's sense of control. To successfully negotiate rage and grief requires both a new gay self-understanding and countering the authority of the dominant culture.
n the third developmental
stage, immersion and resistance, gay men embrace the power of gay
identity.
Most oppressed individuals are socialized into their particular culture. They grow up with role models and learn survival strategies. For example, nearly all African-American children grow up considering an African-American culture as their own. Gay men and lesbians, however, are raised "straight" and have to be "secondarily socialized" into our primary identity.
The church epitomizes this distinction. The African-American church has long been a bulwark of African-American identity. Yet for gay and lesbian people, churches perniciously deny role models, culture, and heritage.
The two of us each reached a point when we desired to know ourselves, not what society told us we were. So we pressed into a short span much that we missed growing up. We spent time in gay clubs, gay churches, and gay society--looking to other gay men for clues to our identity. We filled our library with gay histories, gay sociologies, gay novels, and gay travel guides. The intensity of this enterprise squeezed out nongay agenda and relationships--leading to practical "separatism." We each claimed the right to interpret our own spiritual experience and the power to define our own spiritual agenda.
Developing gay identity also demands resistance. Empowered by a positive gay identity, gay men can discover productive channels for rage. Gay men become masters at magnifying gay identity in ways that undermine straight authority.
To laugh is the greatest subversion, for hollow institutions rely on pomp to hide impotence. In her book Our Tribe, Nancy Wilson cites humor as a gift of gay and lesbian people. She notes the ubiquitous response of gay protesters to police who wear yellow rubber gloves at AIDS protests: "Your gloves don't match your shoes!" Building on the stereotype of gay men as effeminate and fashion-conscious, the chant exposes how society's beweaponed officers tremble at the thought of touching "sissies."
Intentionally interpreting the Bible from a gay perspective unites immersion and resistance. It denies the dominant culture a hiding place behind Scripture. It seizes as gay territory the biblical landscape that conventional churches fence off for heterosexuals only. Meanwhile, it uncovers a sexual-minority presence in the Bible for gay men to further immerse themselves in.
mmersion and resistance
demand total commitment. For a time, embracing gay sexuality provides the energy
to meet that demand. Gay power appears invincible. But resistance to the
dominant society and the intensity of immersion cannot be endlessly sustained.
Last summer, Joe died. Over several years, Joe had spent so many weekends with us that he considered our guest room his own. We participated in his life as he moved through disappointments with the church, entered seminary, mounted photography exhibits, and fought opportunistic infections. During his last visit, however, he talked nonstop through the waking hours of two days.
Joe's continuous urgent rambling left us exhausted, and we didn't speak with him again during the last three months of his life. We had always envisioned ourselves "being there" for friends. But as profoundly as we loved him, we no longer seemed able to listen.
AIDS surrounds gay men with loss. Faced with the death of friends and the sorrow of lovers, gay men frequently work hard to control painful feelings. As men pack more grief into less emotional space, every loss becomes overwhelming. Trying to "maintain control" finally causes a "shutdown." We become emotionally frozen.
Encountering such limits in ourselves, as well as in gay society and culture, leads gay men to the fourth stage of identity development--introspection. Here, gay men reevaluate the meaning of gay identity. But acknowledging limitations feels threatening. Will it betray other gay men or give ammunition to hostile forces? Does it mean one is not really gay?
In a song by the comedy team Romanovsky and Phillips, a man laments his failure to live up to "gay standards." He can't recite show tunes. His wardrobe isn't coordinated. Repeatedly, he laments, "What kind of self-respecting faggot am I?"
Introspection serves as a passage to the final stage of identity development. The earlier passage of dissonance, from conformity to immersion, entailed grief and rage directed at the dominant society. In this passage, the grief and rage are focused in ourselves.
Spiritually, the earlier journey was one through the wilderness to a promised land. We relinquished male power and privilege and encountered difficulties coming out. But a new gay world awaited us with all its joys and pleasure.
This new journey involves "taking up the cross" and "considering the lilies." It means learning simply to receive both the grace of pleasure and the gift of pain or responsibility as facets of life. Taking responsibility and surrendering control emerge as interdependent movements of our spirituality.
tkinson, Morten, and Sue
label the final stage of identity development synergy. Synergy refers to
the way two organisms, functioning together, may achieve what neither can do
alone.
In this final stage, more secure in our identities, we gay men look beyond ourselves. Realizing how we are part of a larger universe adds balance to our lives. We can accept our limits, knowing that external resources may compensate for those we lack. We also give of ourselves more effectively. Instead of striving against our limitations, we give from the abundance of our strengths.
Ceasing to assume responsibility to hold the world together, we can "lose control" to our feelings. Frozen places in our lives thaw so we may grieve without embarrassment. We honor the need to mourn our own failures along with the loss of friends. We embrace our feelings so that they may run their natural course and be released.
We also rediscover that gay identity is not the only identity. Viewing alternative perspectives less defensively, we acknowledge how our experience diverges from that of other minorities. Where we share common ground, we find a firmer foundation for solidarity with other liberation movements. Less easily distracted by contests for positions on the ladder of victimization, we turn to critically evaluate and address the structures of oppression.
For example, as gay White men, we can admit our White privilege. That does not separate us from the struggle, but helps us compensate for vested interests of our race, class, and economic status. Comfort with our personal emotional, social, and spiritual selves gives us the ability to more accurately assess what we have (and just as importantly, what we don't have) to contribute to the struggle for justice. These are lessons we gay men have to share with our straight White brothers who feel losses of power and control in a changing economy and society.
In this stage of synergy, we can identify mutual interests with some people whom we formerly regarded as oppressors. Several years ago, a small men's group formed in our congregation. Two gay and three heterosexual men met regularly. To their surprise, the members soon discovered that what united them as men outweighed what divided them by orientation. The solidarity of these men has proved an invaluable spiritual resource during the current denominational attempts to force our congregation to expel gay and lesbian members. "One body" signifies our real experience now.
hristmas is long past.
The toppled tree is gone, the glass shards are swept away.
When we shared the fate of the "Hope" ornament, our friend Rita hurried to respond. "Hope isn't broken," she suggested. "It's multiplied."
The events of last year overwhelmed us. Only when we reached the point where we could no longer handle things did we learn to let go. Hope had to shatter so that we could see things from a new perspective.
At this stage, we are coming to accept ourselves, our limits, and our losses. We're learning to balance taking responsibility and letting go of control. Our emotions have begun to thaw. Assessing the stages of our development, we see that gay identity has taken us in surprising directions.
Next winter after Christmas, we plan to take another ornament from our tree and "lose" it as a symbol of what passed away this year. Perhaps we will destroy the bauble. Perhaps we will "multiply" it by donating it to our local Thrift for AIDS.
Life passes. We grow, we change, we lose much. But in the spiritual realm, as in nature's, loss and destruction prepare the way for new life.