Communion (On My Knees Duet 3)

There’s a pause here, and I know his cadence well enough to know that it’s intentional. He wants to give them all a second to think extra on what he said. Tears drop down my cheeks, surprising me, so I shut my eyes and try to send my love and strength to sweet Sky.

He continues, "I had learned already that two people with the same outwardly gendered bodies weren't supposed to get married. And couldn't have kids. But I thought that was stupid. I already knew, when I was an elementary school kid, that when I got married, I wanted it to be with Samuel. Or someone like him. Someone brave and strong and fast, that I could run from and chase on the playground. The girls were nice, but I figured I wouldn't want to marry one.

“So I told someone this. Someone in an authority position. Who was overhearing our conversation. And that person went and told my dad. And I got sat down, and my dad said...basically...this is not what we McDowells believe. This isn't the way we do things. He didn't say it was wrong or bad—which was important, and I'm grateful for that. But he said what amounted to, 'We don't do that. Doesn't matter if you think it's stupid. We don't make the rules.' He said we'd talk about it later, but we didn't. My father never brought it up again.

"And I did what I thought I should do." There's a brief pause, followed by a harsh laugh. "I tried not to be gay.” Another pause; the audience is riveted, and my chest hurts so badly I can barely draw air into my lungs.

“Let me stop right here and say, I'm not telling you this so you'll feel sorry for me. I've had some hard times, but we all have. I'm also not trying to minimize my own pain. It's been hard...to live with this. And have my last name. And my job. It's been something that's taken a toll. Something I wished many times that I could change. It's weird how it's still...something that feels shameful to share. I'm not totally comfortable talking about it. You can maybe tell, it makes me a little nervous.

"But this is who I am. I was born this way. I'm a child of God, and when I love romantically, it's men I love. Gay love has been stigmatized and mocked and talked about impolitely for a long, long time. I don't need to repeat those things here. We've all heard that talk. Every time someone who's gay hears those jokes, or those small, off-color comments, it's like having a rock thrown at you. Maybe it's just a little one—the size of a skipping stone—but it hurts for a second. And when you've had a lot of little rocks like that thrown at you, eventually you start getting scared of rocks. When's one coming? How big will it be?

“When something about you—a trait of yours—is talked about in a negative way, repeatedly, you will start feeling self-conscious. I promise that. People experience this with our weight, too, right? Even those of you who run on the thin side. I've got a friend who's got ears that just stick out a little further than some ears. And he's self-conscious. People of color know this far too well. People who are darker-skinned, they'll hear those remarks and after a while, little kids who have beautiful, dark skin could start to feel self-conscious. Small remarks add up. And you absorb—especially as a young person—you absorb what you hear. Pretty hard not to.

"That's why as a group, what we do matters. Because every one of us is exposed to hundreds of people almost every day. Small things, passing glances, passing comments. These things add up. You talk to someone in a wheel chair, and they'll tell you. Someone with a facial difference, someone with a stutter or a lisp. You'll find every little frown, every little wide-eyed look, that stuff sticks.

"So anyway. You’re a Christian child in the '90s, in America, and you don't want to be gay. You're receiving nonverbal cues and verbal cues and hearing small comments, and you realize that's not the way you want to go. I don't know if hearing someone talk about this—if hearing me talk about this—could cause pain, but I bet it's a trigger point for someone listening. Probably a lot of someones. And I'm sorry for that. I'm so sorry for your pain. Because I know how it feels. I spent—" I think he swallows here, to steady his voice. Then he starts again. "My whole life, almost, has been spent hating that I'm 'on this team'. You hear batting for that team. I didn't want to bat for this team. No one asked me.