Sunday, September 20, 2015

Why I Sometimes "Hate" My Evangelical Friends

I recently ran into a conservative friend of mine, who had cried for acceptance of her non-acceptance of the gays right after the Supreme Court's marriage equality ruling.
She is very involved in community theater, and while I hugged her and was pleasant enough to her, I was altogether much too pleased to see that she had put on a few pounds while playing a starving girl. Secretly, I hoped that she would become obese while trying to play an anorexic.
I later thought about why I felt this way towards her, which would probably feed right into the typical evangelical persecution narrative, if she knew. I am still very much bothered by her beliefs, but here is what I think has something to do with it:
"Ruth" at twenty-one reminds me of myself at thirteen. I was a devout conservative at that age, and thought that my highest purpose was to make God look good to others by being a "good witness" and never doing anything wrong. I would not have put it this way, but I basically thought of myself as slumming it with the sinners--or often trying to impress fellow believers.
She would probably say that she doesn't judge me, though she knows I am bisexual, but I know that she would judge me for this one sin: I was a Christian, and now I am not.
No one would ever question her sincerity, since she still is a Christian. She has the acceptance of her church, the benefit of the doubt, and she is just assumed to be a good person and a good Christian, as long she doesn't get pregnant, move in with a boyfriend, or date another girl.
Or lose her faith.
In a lot of ways, I sometimes wish I could still be a Christian, because it's what I originally wanted.
Ruth does not know how good she truly has it. No one will ever debate whether she deserves equal rights, or whether her love is real or moral. No one will ever say that God cannot bless her love--and if they do, she can remedy that by marrying a live-in boyfriend or a baby daddy. No one will ever say that she wasn't sincere as a Christian, as long as she is a Christian.
She is accepted, and I feel judged. I often am judged.
Normally, that wouldn't be such a big deal, since I don't attend church. However, I am effectively "married" to two different conservative churches, through my mother's side of the family.
They don't know how heathen I really am, but that doesn't stop them from making their own judgements because my parents and I don't go to church--that didn't even stop them from judging me for not agreeing with everything they said, when I was younger and more Christian.
I feel an obligation to stand up to them, as far as respectfully disagreeing, but I also feel very weak. My Uncle 'Phobe terrified me as a child, physically hurt my cousins and me when he "played" with us by turning us upside down and "tickling" us, and made me afraid that he would physically harm me. When he says his homophobic things, I am usually too shocked to reply.
When I am around Ruth, I feel judged--just like when I'm around my family. She is usually so nice, but then I am bothered afterwards--just like with my family. I want to say something to her, but I know it would probably be or at least sound inappropriate to bring it up--just like with my family.
When I am around her, as with my family, I feel like I am putting on a front. In her case, I am acting nicer than I feel. In their case, there are many things in my life that I feel I can't casually mention, like my sexuality. In both cases, I can't really relax.
She is in one of my classes starting next week, and of course the family get-togethers will never end. I don't know what the definitive answer is in this case, but I do think that by trying to be more of myself around my family, I will be less bothered when I have to be around her. There are certain things that seem taboo to talk about in my family (at least for me, apparently not for my Uncle 'Phobe), but maybe it's time that that changed.
I still don't wish her well, though. It's too galling to see her go through life with so much more privilege, in so many ways, than I may ever have. That's just how I feel, at least for now. For me at least, it feels better sometimes when I don't forgive, because I've been pressured into it too many times.

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