Gay-Christians.org

I would say that I grew up with a loving family. From where I came from, culturally, public displays of attention is taboo. However, deep down inside you just have to know that they love you. All my siblings and my parents love me. Being the youngest, I suppose was a privilege. I got what I wanted every time. But I am the timid one. I wasn’t always timid. I was quite a ham until…

I don’t exactly know why I turned timid. I still ask myself that question to this day. I have a few memories of things that may have affected my sense of confidence. Nothing that I can put my fingers on but one of them could be the time I finished an art project I made in first grade. I was so proud of it! I can’t remember exactly if it was a sculpture or a painting yet my mom praised me up and down. She mentioned to my dad with pride in her voice that ’This one is going to be an artist.’ I overheard my dad say, ‘What would an artist feed his children with? It’s not a career, it’s a hobby!’ Never mind that my dad was thinking of my future. Never mind that he said that out loud in front of me. But, I was only eight years old. I didn’t know the difference.

All I wanted to hear was that I did a good job or that I have talent. I wanted to hear that the work of my hands created something beautiful. Yet I didn’t. It is so hard to express the hurt and embarassment I felt at that time. I couldn’t even put it into words. I was a child. After that, I never wanted to show my dad anything that I created. I kept it to myself and my mom. I was afraid that he would only mock me again and I didn’t want to feel that pain again.

To be continued…

The Catholic Church was where I spent most of my time as a child. My parents would regularly visit the parish priest. We would be regularly be in the rectory, or the main chapel where my parents conduct business regarding their religious affiliations. I would be surrounded by large statues of saints and martyrs. I would smell the scent of burning candles or incense. The weird thing is that I always felt safe there. The church is a safe haven. People sitting in pews, looking up at the altar either thanking God for the blessings received or asking God for lack thereof. To me, the church is good and safe, it is my second home.

When I entered first grade, my mom sent me to a Catholic school. An alma mater to the rest of my siblings. Yes, we all went to the same school. Our last name is well-known in that school for I had nine siblings and I am the youngest. By the time I entered first grade, the rules have changed compared from when my siblings attended the school. Prior, lay people weren’t allowed to run the school, from the directress to the teachers, the school was mainly run by nuns and priests. This was no longer the case. Only the directress/director was required to be from the religious order that ran the school.

Even at first grade, I knew. Something was different - and since it is an all-boys school, I was excited. I’ve had playmates in my neighborhood at home but I had nothing in common with them. They liked basketball, sports, and rough wrestling matches. It is not like I didn’t like sports, I just wasn’t made to play it. Yet, to fit in, I played anyway. I just wanted to be left alone. And because of that, I always felt lonely.

To be continued…

I was young. I remember looking up the word “homosexual”  from the Encyclopaedia Britannica. I wanted to understand what it is and why it is. The description provided little for me to understand. All I remember is that it gave the history of homosexuality from the Ancient Greeks to the present time. It is a sexual attraction to the same sex.

Of course, I already knew that! I was probably seven years of age when I first knew I was attracted to men. It didn’t have any malice at that time. I just like looking at beautiful men. My brother’s friends were my first crushes.

I came from a very religious family. A family that went to church every Sunday. We would go and eat out afterwards to spend time with my brothers and sisters. My parents were members of Catholic Organizations such as the Christian Family Movement, Cursillo, and my dad was a Grand Knight at the Knights of Columbus. I always remember being surrounded by nuns and priests during their visit at our home. My mom used to take me along with her on Wednesdays to attend the Novena to Our Mother of Perpetual Help. I loved being there. I enjoyed being inside the church, watching the tealight candles burn. I always looked up at the big crucified Christ on the cross with blood running down his forehead, hands and feet nailed to the cross. I liked the church.

To be continued…