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It was Cinco de Mayo 1991 when I decided to be baptized. My brother and I made our request together, saying in effect that we bought what we had been sold. We believed that Jesus was not only the son of God, but that he’d died for us. I was 11. Brent was 12. And I really did believe it, I still do. It’s a fundamental part of one’s growth in a Protestant church. And I appreciate the message that your relationship is a decision you make and not something thrust upon you as an infant. What I didn’t know at the time was that I spend my adult life feeling like my baptism was something I need to apologize for.

I don’t know where the shame came from. I wouldn’t have done anything differently. I’m glad to have my faith and think it often affects who I am and what I do in my life. But the world we live in has become increasingly tolerant for all types of faith and belief with the exception of Protestant Christianity. No, for us there is increasing skepticism. I keep my Christianity quiet in most cases, but when people find out there is often the raised eyebrow and a look on their face that seems to ask “how can a rational person buy into that?” I’m sure a lot of that has to do with the fact that I’m gay and with the televangelists who claim to speak for God (they speak only for themselves). There are plenty of things that are off-putting about Christianity as it is practiced by so many ignorant Americans.

I’m not going to explain what I believe here. It is complicated, as I think it should be. If your faith is simple, you’ve missed something. There is far too much to consider to blindly follow or never question yourself.

“Be yourself. Everyone else is already taken.” — Oscar Wilde

I struggle with that and this whole Christianity issue is only a small part of that. I have to be unapologetic about being who I am… fully who I am. And I hope others can learn to do that for themselves too. I don’t just think it takes all sorts of people to make this world interesting, I love that it does. This world would be so boring if we were all the same.

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“I am the least difficult of men. All I want is boundless love.”
–Frank O’Hara

Perhaps one thing I developed as a child of Oklahoma is an innate sense of faith. It is something I take for granted; something I assume we all have in common. When I am proven wrong about faith — when I discover the great numbers of beliefless people, I am dumbstruck and a little bit sad.

Faith is often the only thing I have to hold onto, the rest of life’s trivial issues slipping away and seeming increasingly less important. That isn’t to say that my “willingness” to have a belief system has made me apathetic about the world. In fact, I think quite the opposite has happened. Life is filled with meanings — deep meanings. Everything seems so charged and alive, knowing there are forces working around us that are greater than we are.

It also seems that the further I get from home, the more bitter those around me seem about any sort of organized thought (and religion in particular). That is likely just part of working with books. Bookstores attract thinkers. One of the wonderful things about thinkers is that they often arrive at conflicting conclusions concerning existence. I love being surrounded by such a difference of ideas.

Faith seems like a foreign notion here in Alaska. Those of us with belief systems, regardless of those beliefs origins, are certainly not the majority. It is all very unsettling.

But I believe very strongly that the blame for this goes entirely to the religious leaders of the world. In their efforts to speak for God, a contemptuous act, they have alienated too many. With such a variety of people, it is hard for many to feel they belong into the rigid molds cast by well meaning theological dictators. That is unfortunate.

Christianity has already lost one fight. The hypocritical and belittling treatment of gays and lesbians over the decades has pushed us away. Feeling ostracized by an organization we weren’t sure we wanted to belong to, the community seems to have moved on. Faith isn’t important to the outcasts of religious society. And it seems that this isn’t a lesson the Christian community has learned. The persecution continues. And so it does with many groups who don’t fit the ideals of these individual schools of thought… these approved ways of being by the religious communities.

A well-organized effort to cater to and serve those who think for themselves or who don’t fit the exact mold of the perfect Christian could have had a positive effect on the spreading of Christian “values.” Exclusivity, a lesson not found in text, has become the hallmark of a people who cannot see the forest for the trees. They are too busy concerning themselves with superiority that they have not noticed that the power has already been surrendered to the angry and faithless. This is probably true of any religion. I can’t say anything on behalf of those I am not associated with.

It isn’t about these specific religious thoughts, but about faith. Simply having faith is the important part. For myself, I will continue to feel my way through blindly. My own faith is hardly shaken. I am saddened that there are so many without a place to turn when life gets to be difficult. They end up turning on themselves. I don’t feel that it is too late for the major religions of this planet. The most important thing is to eliminate hate. Without hate, the anti-faith movement has less footing. Without hate, support can be found in surprising places. Without hate, there will only be love. Love is something all types of people can support. With more people joining the efforts, support systems are built and mankind can only benefit from such a system.

30 March 2007

{edit}

When I wrote these thoughts out, I had intended them to reflect a general impression I have gotten from fundamentalist Christian “leaders” in America. I realize that there are still understanding individuals whose values are based on love. I didn’t mean to generalize to the point of excluding those Christians from my argument. And I didn’t mean to say that there is no longer any hope. I think the battle has long been lost, but certainly not the war. In my opinion, it is up to the open-minded members of the Christian faith to bring the message to those who have otherwise been ignored. Those who preach hate have made that task very difficult, as there is now a resistance to faith of any kind.

My family attended a Church of Christ. Not strictly a denomination, Churches of Christ are gatherings of Christian worship where beliefs seem to be individualized. I felt encouraged to come to my own conclusions about the issues of the world and I didn’t have to share those beliefs with the person sitting next to me. This made church very personal for everyone. And that sense that it is your walk with God that makes the Churches of Christ so great. If anyone felt offended by my rant, I apologize, but this sense of increasing alienation is very real. And you should be offended. You should be offended that there are Christians spreading hate. You should be offended by apathy. You should be offended that the values of good people are being routinely dismantled.

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3+17+1997=10 or “Relax a little; one of your most celebrated nervous tics will be your undoing.” -Frank O’Hara

This might mean nothing to anyone but me, but it felt important to share it. Today, St Patrick’s Day, 2007, marks the 10th anniversary of me coming out to my friends as gay. It has been quite a journey, but this is an account of what happened before. To understand the full extent of where I am, it is important to first understand where I was. This poem by Frank O’Hara expresses it in ways I couldn’t.

February

The scene is the same,
and though I try to imagine
plinking starry guitars,

and while I spend my
time listening to a foreign
contralto sing the truth,

the earth is everywhere,
brown and aching. At first
it seemed that this life

would be different: born
again in someone else’s
arms, after seasons of childhood

and error and defense.
I thought freshly and tried
to change the color of my

habit. New metrics would be
mine in this excess of
love! but I was a braggart

to hope so. My old hurts
kept attacking me at odd
moments, after too many

songs, on public conveyances,
in the blue light of bars. Ah!
I cried, do not blame me,

save your temper for the
others! and at the same instant
in the same breath cried,

break me! I dare you, for
which of us am I? you will
break yourself! And this

became only too true, the
worst of all possible vistas,
my lone dark land.

–Frank O’Hara

That was me. It still is from time to time, wondering how my life is really different and hoping that I have really changed — grown. I was lost. I had desperately tried to force myself into someone I am not, agrily trying to “not be gay.”

The feeling that I was different started as early as 5 or 6. I didn’t know how, but I felt like there was something about me that wasn’t “normal.” What’s more, as a young child, I knew that there were things I needed to hide from my parents — things they wouldn’t understand. I don’t know how we come to these conclusions. My first crush on a boy happened in 4th grade, but I didn’t think much of it.

I remember a number of times during church activities, specifically Bible Bowl, when I would drift off into my own world of introspection, wondering how much love I would find in these people if they knew this awful truth about me. I pretended to have crushes, marking my papers with the most obvious name, hoping to be caught pining for one of my teammates. I quickly became outspoken over my disdain for the public education system’s willingness to teach homosexuality as acceptable. I was turning on myself and was only 14.

The one thing I took away from that part of my life was self-loathing. And I could have ended up with some great experiences and memories, but the pain of being something you don’t want to be was very difficult to deal with.

A couple years later, I found myself washing dishes daily at my first job. I had gotten in through a series of somewhat unusual events, but was enjoying it greatly. I had started to realize that I would have to face this part of myself. I couldn’t hide behind hatred any longer, but I was terrified at what that would mean.

The climate of the world for gays was very different in 1995 & 1996. From my teenaged perspective, it seemed like the dark ages. I didn’t want to indetify with them. There were no gay characters on television, no role models. If I were to accept being gay as who I actually am, I felt that I would be giving up; giving in to what I had been taught to believe is wrong. Furthermore, I was saying to the world that I accepted that I would have no place to fit in; no safe place to run to when life became too much.

Let me back up for just a second. I don’t actually remember my parents (or their parents) having ever spoken about the issue of homosexuality. I never had reason to believe they had thought about it at all. Neither do I recall any lessons in church concerning it. I remember lessons on love and compassion, but never about how wrong gays were. My lessons on this subject were from specific people, friends, who had “moral” objections to certain “lifestyle choices.” I didn’t want to be anything that would upset these people.

I was feeling rather exhausted about the whole issue and was no longer doing well in school. I spent my days worrying about turning into this pariah I didn’t want to be, all the while sitting in the car with my friends, or over at their house, a little removed from the group… from the situation. I was starting to feel like I was enormous, trapsing around people’s houses, hopind desperately to blend in and not be noticed, but failing. I started to discuss issues with my coworker and friend, hoping to find wisdom in her words. It turned out to not be so easy.

In June 1996, I made one of the weirdest mistakes of my life. I went on a class trip to France for 2 weeks. The teacher going with us was unable to attend at the last minute, due to a medical emergency, and I was left with a group of students, all a year older than me, who wouldn’t even talk to me or include me in their group… and the teacher wouldn’t be there. My 2 weeks in France would basically be on my own. And so they were. I befriended a few people from a group from Idaho, but basically did my own thing. As long as I was on the bus when I was supposed to be, nobody seemed to take much notice.

Everything was going great, until a rainy day in Paris. There wasn’t much we could go do that evening, but the guys I was sharing a room with went to hang out with the girls, so I was alone… with my thoughts… and having been in France for a few days, the newness having worn off, I was thinking about the same things that kept me sad and angry at home. That night I accepted it. I didn’t like it, but I realized that I couldn’t be anyone but who I am. The rest of the trip was very hard; I barely enjoyed myself. I would hang out with the bus driver, Kamal, or our tour guide, Arnaud, at almost every stop. I didn’t feel like I should be there anymore.

My biggest regret about that trip is not hiding my bitterness when I returned home. My family and friends were waiting at the gate to greet me; I was so happy to see them. But I was difficult and cranky and spoiled the mood for everyone.

I spent most of my senior year trying to convice people I was straight. But a huge weight had been lifted. The distraction that made the previous year so hard was gone, but I would eventually need to tell someone else.

Travis, one of my two best friends, had spent spring break in Mexico (I think), leaving myself and JD to spend a fun filled week of working more hours at our jobs. We did want to do something though, so we spent the week at my uncle’s cabin just outside of town. Travis returned that weekend and we all hung out on Sunday. I was a little down; Travis could tell. I drove home, talking to Travis on the CB (yes, it’s true) the entire way. He had followed me and pulled in behind me at my house. He and I talked about things. I wasn’t really ready to tell him everything, but I told him that I could never see myself marrying a woman and having kids with her. If felt like enough for that moment. He was very comforting, much more so than most friends. He told me that JD had asked if Travis thought I was gay. Travis laughed it off as a silly notion. I felt extremely exposed.

The next day was my favorite holiday of the year, St. Patrick’s Day. I don’t know why I love it, but I do. The first thing I did in my first class was to write a letter, expressing to both Travis & JD how I felt and about who I am. I told them of the many days, wanting to no longer live. I told them how painful it had been to let them down. And I told them that I am gay. I couldn’t face them, knowing that I was losing my two best friends.

I had an eye appointment and then work after school. I was almost finished at work when Travis & JD showed up. I tried to avoid them, but they seemed angry. I just walked out to the parking lot, letting them follow me. I intended to go home and forget the day had ever happened. But my car was missing. Defeated, I got into Travis’ car. We drove around a little; they told me they had gotten permission from my mom to keep me away all night. They told me that they didn’t care that I am gay, but they were angry that I had been so depressed and didn’t tell them.

Somehow, we ended up at Red Lobster, where they continued to assure me that they still loved me. It felt nice, but was painful at the same time. We drove around for a long time, talking (I was crying). I think I stayed at Travis’ that night. And that was it. It was done. I didn’t have to hide myself anymore. The last few months we lived in Stillwater were the happiest as a teenager that I can remember. Life had been so painful for me for so long.

A month later, Ellen Degeneres came out, bursting the doors wide open for gay men and women everywhere. It felt good to be a part of something from the begining. It still does.

I didn’t tell my family for a long time after this, but I will save that for another time. It deserves the same attention.

Today, I am very happy with who I am. It feels so good to be me and I am glad I came out when I did. I hope that there is a day when being gay doesn’t break children into secrecy. I hope that day comes soon.

St Patrick’s Moon

St Patrick’s moon shone
gently on us as we left
Texas, back to our lives.
The brief stays seem sad
and this was the last visit
with all of us single.

St Patrick’s moon shone
on the new baby — born
to make some forget
the tragedy its birthday
marked — the sadness of
this anniversary of death.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the just-cracked blinds
on Laurisa’s face — the new
life growing within her body.
More family, more joy,
more love to make us forget.

St Patrick’s moon shone
through the rear window of
JD’s car onto my face as
I smiled. My life seems
to be getting closer to real.
I laughed a little because
life can be so wonderful.

Brian Fuchs (3.17.2003)

17 March 2007

Images: photo of Frank O’Hara; illustration of Celtic knot shamrock; photo of Brian; photo of Brian & JD

Featured Image Art: photo of Brian in Red River, NM

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I have been feverishly trying to define myself. I have actually been doing a lot of non-Brian activities lately. I have a need to figure out what religion I am most aligned with… I don’t know why I have this need to define myself. I am usually satisfied with my beliefs being what they are and not needing to lock them into a pre-defined set of… whatevers. But I somehow need to know. I have discovered that I rest somewhere happily between non-Baptist protostant Christianity, Hinduism, & Judaism. Somehow, that makes sense finding that out. But I don’t know what to do with that information either. I went on this quest mainly to answer the question when asked, but I am no closer to doing that. The honest answer is confusing to most.

Meanwhile, the condo is not sold… I have made plans to visit Oklahoma in October… Work is good… Heather has a birthday soon… I got my invite to Dorothy & Sean’s wedding… I have been unsettlingly homesick… I am still broke… my tattoo design is not yet completed… Ashley & I are going to the fair next weeked and then she is taking me out to a glacier the following week… and life goes on.

I will include some things I have written soon. I have been at it again, which really means I have been a bit depressed. No worries though; depression is the only means to my self expression. My creative self will now be allowed out for a breath.

I miss the weirdest things.

Featured Image Art: Oswald Völkel, “The Sacred Heart of Jesus”; painting of Ganesha (unknown artist)

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Christian Indeed!

I have mentioned it many times, but I just want to say it again. What is wrong with people??? I live in “the buckle of the Bible Belt” and see a huge amount of hypocracy daily. Since everyone here in Tulsa claims to be a Christian, I am often ashamed to say that I am and have resorted to not saying it at all. It pains me to claim similar beliefs with people who seem so judgemental and hateful. I know that I am doing the same thing, judging them, but I still have a hard time with those who cannot walk the walk. Christian seems to be a term used by many as a substitute for conservative and/or close-minded. But I think those people need to look at the word and realize that it simply means someone who follows the teachings of Christ. The teachings of Christ do not include judgement or exclusion of others. They do not include hate for anyone. They are about one’s personal commitment of that person’s actions. Nobody should have anything to say about the way I live my life except for me and God. This means that you random so-called Christian do not get to decide that being gay is wrong or right. Unless of course you are 100% without sin. It is at that time that I will start accepting your advice on living my life and my walk in my faith.

Religion, Faith, Or Spirituality…?

I am not religious at all. I think to be so is silly (no offense to those who are). Being locked into dogma and ritual does not suit my finicky life and is therefore not welcome into it. Although I share the beliefs of other Christians, I do not claim to be one for reasons stated above as well as the following: stating ones religion automatically brings with it certain stereotypes. I don’t want to be held to certain beliefs that I don’t necessarily agree with.

Faith and Spirituality are a different matter all together. I am strong in both and I don’t often discuss them. I just am so rarely on the same wavelength that I cannot bear to defend myself all the time.

Have I Changed So Much?

I spent the evening with Serenity, James, Shauna, Bryce, etc. It was a lot of fun! We started at the bowling alley, where I bowled 131. Out of the 11 of us, I was 4th. I never bowl, so it was really great fun. Rennie and I got beers, making the evening even better. I also never drink. After, we went back to James & Shauna’s house. Shauna fed me, we visited, and then played Scene It. It is okay, but made me realize how out of touch I am with movies. I knew almost none of the answers. Blah.

Thing is that I felt a little out of touch with them. I haven’t spent time with them for about 2 years, and it had been a while at that point. I really didn’t think that I had changed since then, but the fact that I related very little made me realize that I had. Why is it that I am always changing into someone new, leaving my friends behind, no longer having the same things in common?

I guess it doesn’t matter. We seemed to be able to find enough things to talk about to keep ourselves amused. I even got along alright with Bryce, which had never happened when I lived with them. He is Shauna’s brother and was a source of tension at that time. It was nice to just get along with him. It was also very nice to see Serenity (Rennie), who has become my blog buddy. I actually just read through her blog occasionally, but it is fun to know she is always there.

Featured Image Art: photo by Valeri Terziyski (via Unsplash)

originally posted on Xanga

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Robby:
Maybe it was stupid, but I told him how I felt. I guess I should always keep my mouth open just in case I need to stick my foot in there!

God:
I want to thank everyone for the comments. In particular I would like to thank confess_or_explode for the opposing point of view. I do not claim to know everything, but I do know that it is important to respect the opinions of others. His was so well thought out… he is an amazing person. No offense intended whatsoever to him, but I think it just a little sad that people have to feel bad for who they are. For me and my belief (only), the notion of it’s okay to be, but not to act is horrible. It seems to tell someone that they can never be complete. I’d prefer not to upset anyone, least of all him, so I will just stop here. I do send him much love. God bless you all!

Poem:
Please vote on the best one of these Frank O’Hara poem pieces:

1.
It’s night. Am
I awake?
I am in heaven.

from Four Little Elegies

2
to be a blooming whale
and infinitely sad
it is no burden
to be free from fear

from Newsboy

3
Clouds pass in
my notorious eye
but you, through
all, I see

from A Hill

4
They say I mope too much
but really I’m loudly dancing.

from Katy

5
oh god it’s wonderful
to get out of bed
and drink too much coffee
and smoke too many cigarettes
and love you so much

from Steps

Featured Image Art: photo of gargoyle at Rufford Abbey, Nottinghamshire, England

originally posted on Xanga

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Religion:
How is it that my parents could have raised me and I still got a completely different perception of what religion should be. I am a Christian, although I am often embarrassed to say so. I am. I believe that Jesus is God’s Son who came here and died for my forgiveness, but I do not believe in the angry God who punishes us, as my parents seem to sometimes. My God is my friend — He is someone I can talk to and who loves me for me, regardless of who that is. My parents have put conditions of their acceptance of me. They will come around (that is what I tell myself). It just doesn’t make sense that not only did my idea of God come out to be different, but my brothers’ views vary from my own as well as from my parents’. Interesting.

Gender:
I use the genderless He in reference to the Lord. I believe God is above gender and do not refer to him as male. The common He in reference is just easier than using God or the Lord every time. I believe it is ignorant and arrogant to assume we know anything about God, including gender.

Boys:
I am so lonely lately. Somehow I can not do without a boyfriend now, even though I have gone 21 years without. You would think that I would be used to not having one. It doesn’t work that way though. Every time I see Jude Law, Toby Maguire, or Joseph Fiennes I get depressed. It is hard to meet guys here. All the guys here just want to have sex, and what is wrong with the rest of it — those other parts of a relationship. I like to think I would be the type to not sleep around and keep a boyfriend for life. Maybe I am just kidding myself though. Maybe I am the slut. Maybe I should just go out and sleep with every guy I meet… I bet that wouldn’t solve anything. It would only make me more lonely. I will just have to wait…

Featured Image Art: photo by Aaron Burden (via Unsplash)

originally posted on Xanga