If you’re new to this blog – which should be everyone, myself include – then I have yet to greet you!
Who are you.
*A silence as the onlookers wait for my reply*
That’s Willy Wonka.. *A buzzing, old, awestruck man chirps in, giddily*
I hope these occasional quotes might add some humour to my digital tone. This, if you haven’t already gathered, is my first blog. Now, I suppose every action or event has a purpose; except for earlier today when I may or may not have broken a Bulgarian crystal glass in the dishwasher. If that did happen, well *chortles*, I don’t think it would have had a purpose. Long-story-short I’ve decided to start a blog, ‘why’ you ask? Oh alright, I’ll spill the beans.
It has long been a pressing matter in my life: the balance… the focal point, neigh, the equilibrium of faith and my gayness. (It’s a word now). I grew up in a somewhat remote part of the globe – now I hope that isn’t too specific because I don’t want any conspiracies, y’all – and I was raised as a (Pentecostal) Christian. I went to Sunday School with a close friend of mine at the time, and growing up in South Africa was, for the most part, tough. I remember my mother once picking my sister and I up from aftercare – a service offered by the school to parents who couldn’t pick their children up when school finished – and I sat in the front seat of the car. For months prior to this traumatic event, a few workers and one man in charge were tasked with the remodelling of a house right next to our school. They were very slow. On that day, I remember a bakkie pulling up to the soon-to-be dwelling, and three black men jumping out, each with a gun. I don’t remember what they were saying, but it ended up with the foreman being shot in the leg. My mother equivocated at the stop sign for a moment, watching them turn around and drive away, whether she should go in pursuit of these men. We went home. It’s funny, as I’m writing this I just remembered seeing one of the workers running toward a dark blue SUV right in front of us, pleading at the passenger side window for them to call for help. People turned a blind eye then. I beckon you to watch ‘Mirror’, namely an episode titled ‘White Bear’. The disregard for events such as that ran prevalent throughout the country, I suppose we knew there was nothing we could do, and so people had given up trying.
BUT, staying on topic, from a very young age (I’d say perhaps 5) I began having dreams; dreams of escape I guess. I remember vividly dreaming of a man, very good looking, somehow getting past the burglar proof bars on my window, and coming into my room. I suppose his sexiness melted the bars? Nevertheless, I would be lying in bed, in this dream, waiting for him to pick me up. Did I mention he had wings like an angel? Then he would fly me somewhere. Every night, this aforementioned dream would repeat itself. I didn’t know it at the time, but, I was definitely dreaming of escape.
Escape from what?
The societal norm was for workmates, neighbours, and church friends, all to just get along with each other. Invite some over for a real fond du (not that cheese bullshit, please, I don’t need the extra fat clogging my everything), and have all the children mingle, boys playing in the mud, getting hurt, discovering things with boys, and girls… well I don’t know what they did with themselves. The men would braai, and the women would make the slaai. Oh my word I just made that up. Now, to save you some googling, braai (bry) is a South African BBQ, and slaai (sly) is Afrikaans for salad. There was a deep hatred for homosexuality, even if I never knew what that word meant, or that I was gay. I remember stares, those looks of concern adults would have.
“The last time Debra took off 3 days of work in a row she wasn’t using it to combat the ‘cold’ everyone thought she had if you know what I mean *head down a little with eyes bulging*”.
That kind of stare.
Apparently, playing a game of pull-off-the-other-kids’-pants wasn’t appropriate; not in the sense of one kid exposing another’s private areas, but apparently said kid had the mental capacity and maturity dare I say to have ‘dirty’ thoughts that teens’ minds and poor sitcoms are so rampantly filled with today. That’s not how you eat a banana. IF you know what I mean…
Well, I’ve yet to tell you why I even started this blog! Somehow, a few days or hours ago, I found myself on YouTube, watching a movie by Ray Comfort (no spoilers, don’t worry). At first, I was shocked. Not because of any plot or character development, but because a man was talking on stage, impersonating Arnold and some American president. This Australian guy once came to my school, and did a little skit for us with his impersonations. This school, I have to add, is very opposed to same sex relations. They don’t expel you, Hermione, worse, they send you to the Chaplain for counselling. Thankfully I never came out to any of them, although I’m sure it was apparent. Hell, even Facebook knew I was gay before anyone else did. Then again, my parents wouldn’t even consider me being gay as any kind of explanation for my, well, everything. They were so shocked when I told them, on my 18th birthday.
“Look, I know you’ve always felt different..” she said, as I internally smiled, thinking that she understood and accepted what was going on, “and I think it’s normal that you would think this of yourself. But, I know a guy..” *facepalm*. Apparently, her 40 years of living, where she has only observed the occasional gay-related anything can override my 18 years of internal combustion, as my inner self knew long before I actually did, what being gay meant. Apparently, this was not the kind of life that I would want to choose, because, it’s lonely. And heck, I agree! In fact I almost stopped and wondered why, but then I realised I’d already done that, on multiple occasions, several times.
More than once.
Father did me the courtesy of cutting it short and saying he would not accept it. Long-story-short, I ignored their actions and relentlessly went on, until they just accepted and realised that me being gay is ok. I don’t know if we’re there yet because they haven’t said a word relating to the matter since.
Before I went on with the movie, I thought, golly, this guy is so cool, something is just compelling me to google this movie. And so I did. And I came across a review of the movie. After reading the review, with spoilers, I was deterred from resuming my watching, and as I scrolled down the page, I saw that this website had the word ‘atheist’. An atheist website, revealing the indecencies of this film. I was then even more pummelled into the miserable hole that is despair, by a dark, merciless hand. How can it be so hard for people to understand that being Christian doesn’t instantly render you homophobic? And why is it that the only place I can find likeminded (LGBT) individuals is in atheist or other God-hating cliques and circles? Perhaps I have just not found anyone like me yet. Keep in mind that ‘I don’t fear atheists, I have atheist friends’ *breathes heavily* No but really, my biggest bone to pick is definitely with some/most Christians.
I admit, I am having (and recently had), struggles with my faith. I knew I never wanted to abandon my faith, and I’m definitely not going to try and be straight again. But I mean, where the hell did Cain ‘knew his wife’? WHERE DID SHE COME FROM!? My father couldn’t answer, but he did tell me that AIDS originated from black men in Africa getting it on with apes. My mother said that she’s “glad that AIDS is a thing”, it acts as a sort of a .. culling device, since there’s too many people on Earth.
So no I don’t think they’re there yet.
The purpose of this blog, was for me to hopefully pioneer a new thinking, or at least, strengthen one if it’s out there somewhere already. I hope that one day, anybody, anywhere can just be who they are, no questions asked or judgements imposed. Who knows, it could even be next year XP (happy new year everyone).
I am gay, and I am Christian. It doesn’t define my entirety, but it sure as hell is a big part of who I am and who I’m going to become.