Since my post on Growing Up Gay and Christian was so popular, I’ve decided to write a more in-depth series about my childhood experience with regard to my faith and sexuality.

[The Early Years]

I grew up in an Evangelical home. For those of you who don’t know what evangelical means, it means different things to different people. But, for the most part, it means that I grew up believing the Bible was without error. I grew up believing that men were the head of the household and that women couldn’t be pastors. I grew up believing it was my job to convert as many people as I could, to show as many people I could the love of Christ so that they would accept Him as their personal Savior and be saved. No small feat, that last one. But most importantly for this post, I grew up believing that being gay was a sin and that I’d burn in hell for having same-sex attractions.

Granted, I didn’t know most of this when I was only four or five trying on my mother’s heels and pretending to be a girl. I’d wear one of my dad’s bandannas around my head with a rubber band tying the back of it into a ponytail. I’d wear ‘my hair’ as I ran laps around the house and played basketball in the dining room. I would record the scores from my imaginary friends (who I was acting as) and then compete as myself. While I wasn’t an only child, it felt like it at times with my closest sibling being 8 years older than me. Left to my own devices, since a 13 year-old rarely wants to play with a five year-old, I created all sorts of fictitious friends and scenarios to help me cope with my early childhood.

I remember being yelled at to take ‘that thing’ off my head when we sat down for dinner, but I’d cry out, “But it’s my hair!” I think I usually won that argument. I remember (and have been told on many occasions) when I was around four or five, my sister gave me her Mardi Gras beads. In front of her and her then boyfriend, I said, “Great! I can use these when I act like a girl!” Then I whipped my head directly towards her boyfriend and said seriously, “I do act like a girl,” and pranced off. On occasion I would play house with friends who would come over and I’d choose to be the woman (because I had no notion that two boys could represent a household). I’d put balls up my shirt to complete the womanly look I had created for myself: blue bandana wrapped around my head with breasts so large they’d break any woman’s back in real life. This seems hilarious and crazy to me now. I could just imagine seeing my five-year old self now and shaking my head in response while laughing.

But, now I would understand it. I would understand the need to try on a different part of myself that society and the Church wouldn’t let me. I’ve talked with other gay men about this and of the people I’ve talked with, we’ve all shared similar experiences. What perplexed me at first about this was that none of us identify as transgender. But the more I thought about it, the more I realized I wasn’t exploring my gender as much as I was exploring my sexuality. At that age, I had yet to discover a same-sex couple or understand what that meant. I didn’t think that two men could be married and running a house together. I wanted to pretend to play house with another boy, but because two boys couldn’t do that, I took on the ‘look’ of the girl.

As far as putting on ‘my hair’ and competing against myself goes, I’m not totally sure. My only imaginary friends were girls and they were all my sister’s friends, just ‘Little Dana’ or ‘Little Erin.’ I took what was in my life and made it imaginary and small so that I could have company all the time. And since I had no one to compete against, I had to compete against myself (or rather my imaginary friends.)

I’m still recovering from The Patriarchy. As I grew up, I learned that little boys weren’t supposed to try on ‘girl’ things. I learned we weren’t supposed to cry and show our emotions in public. I learned that meant we were weak. I learned that we weren’t supposed to want to be close with another boy like we were supposed to be with a girl. I learned that we don’t talk about our sexuality, that it makes people uncomfortable. I learned that my desire to play house with another boy was wrong because it wasn’t in God’s design for human culture. Well, friends, I can tell you that is a load of bullshit.

I play house with another man every single day of my life now and it’s one of the most beautiful and rewarding and authentic things I do. We cook together and we clean together (except I clean the bathroom and he cleans the bar cart). We play games and sit reading on the sofa next to each other. We share our money and pay our bills together, both making money and working so we can enjoy our shared lives. We make so many decisions together as we craft our home and intertwine our lives. I wish I could go back in time and tell 5 year old Timmy this. I’d tell him that it’s okay to be different. It’s okay to wear your ‘hair’ and pretend to be a girl. It’s okay to want to play house with another boy, because that’s what you’ll end up doing for the rest of your life. I want to tell him that two boys and two girls all over the world play house together, that you’re not alone. I’d want to say that even though your dad yells at you to take off that bandanna at dinner, he’ll be at your same-sex wedding with a big smile on his face congratulating you on your marriage. I’d tell him that your family loves you for who you are and you’ve already made friends with some of the people that’ll support you through your coming out and coming to terms with yourself.  I’d tell him that God loves you just the way you are.

If you feel comfortable, leave a comment below telling me about a similar experience you’ve had as a child. I’d love to hear other stories and anecdotes from all of you.

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