Anthony C. Jones, 32, Gay
Life in a rural community was, in so many ways, alienating and lonely. Trust was something I was always skeptical of. I wasn’t able to come out until I was 22 and had moved to Murray, KY. I was always afraid back home. That fear kept me from ever taking the chance to reach out and find allies, open minded people, or anyone that would embrace who I am, regardless of the culture.
When I came out, my mom even remarked about the difficulty of still living in Obion Co and having a gay son. People judged her, as if she was a failure of a parent because her son was gay. She just simply loved me. I was fortunate that I didn’t have a family that would have left me homeless because I was gay; regardless, I still was afraid to live openly. As so many of my fellow youth then, I lived a hidden life. I went to church every time the doors were open. I sat in the pew every Sunday hearing the pastor spew noting but hatred and anger that gay people existed. I heard him proclaim nothing but fire and brimstone and eternal damnation for those that were different. Eventually, I lost faith in Christianity, and became Wiccan. I found a faith that embraced who I was, and where I felt accepted and loved.
My fear of coming out didn’t come from what was supposed to be my church home, though. It came from high school. Ever since my freshman year, I was routinely called “faggot” and “queer” from the kids I went to school with. What kept me in fear, and later inspired my passion for advocacy, was seeing first hand a classmate that was out and proud. To be honest, he couldn’t hide it, and I respected that more than I could express. I knew that he was bullied and threatened, and eventually had to leave school. I still feel guilty to this day that I didn’t stand up for him. He survived, and fortunately also had family members that loved him for who he was.
I do wish I had the chance back then to live my life as the person that I am. So many years later, I’ve learned that I would have had allies, and that there were people there that would have been there for me, had I only had the courage to be open. As a side note, I chose to move to Louisville because it is the first place that I held another man’s hand in public, walking down the street, and was not afraid. To this day, because of that experience and many others, I don’t feel that paralyzing fear anymore.
I miss the sense of community from back home, and the slower pace of life. When I do go home to visit my mom, I make a point to sit on her porch at night and watch the fireflies. I look up at the stars, a sky that I don’t see due to light pollution here. I miss the quiet, the lack of sirens and traffic. Above all, I miss the peacefulness.
I want the people back home to know the damage they are doing to their own neighbors and friends. LGBTQ folks are like anyone else. Some of us go to church, some don’t. We all are humans, and shouldn’t be treated like enemies. We all want to be happy in life, and to live our dreams. Just because two men or two women want to share their lives, that doesn’t make them evil. They are who they are. They are a part of of the community, and can make the world a better place if given the chance. Just because a preacher says they are evil doesn’t mean that is true. Love one another. Judge people on their character, not who they love.
Be brave. Be bold. Maybe you cant change the world, but you can change the hearts and minds of those close to you. Never take for granted those that love you. Don’t be afraid. There are allies out there. Not everyone is against you. Seek out those that will accept and love you, and above all else, do all you can to be happy. You are going to have to make choices that nobody should have to make. You are going to have to have strength to overcome that adversity. That strength and passion is within you. Done give up, don’t let them hold you down, and again, most importantly, be happy.