183. bilge

Another Exodus International alum is on the mea culpa circuit: Randy Thomas, former Executive Vice President of Exodus, who issued a public apology today.

Why does anyone think this matters? Do they think this will lead to some sort of hippy-dippy Kumbaya moment where bygones are bygones, and we hold hands and sing around a campfire? Lest we forget that this is an organization that emotionally manipulated thousands of gay people into betraying themselves in the name of religious bigotry and homophobia…

The fact is, this apology doesn’t matter. Like his former boss, Alan Chambers, at no point in this “apology” does Thomas ever outright apologize for his actions. Instead, he blames others for his part the psychological terrorism of LGBT persons:

• “My understanding of public policy at that time was limited to the talking points I was given to tailor my testimony around.”
• “I participated in the hurtful echo chamber of condemnation.”
• “I was, in a sense, attracted to this kind of power and allowed my conscience to be numbed so I could have a seat at their table. In the name of trying to positively affect Christian leaders, I willingly became one of their pawns. Again, I was selfish and prideful. Please forgive me.”

According to his biography on the Exodus website (now taken down), Randy Thomas grew up in an abusive home, which he attributes to having caused his feelings of same-sex attraction:

“Growing up I internalized the abuse and the pain grew. My need for love was desperate. I knew at a very young age that I preferred the company of males even though I wasn’t like them. When a male would smile my heart would leap. This became erotic at the age of ten.”

After being thrown out of his home by his religiously radicalized mother, he basically went on a sex, alcohol and drugs bender that eventually led to a “come to Jesus” moment and internalizing the lie that homosexuality is both a disorder and a sin. He “left his homosexual identity at the cross,” “learned to relate to men and women the way Father intended,” and “received love from men and women in the body of Christ that displaces homosexuality.”

Essentially, he became frightened of the abusive way he was treating his body, and was seduced by the alluring message of (conditional) love and acceptance of God and the Church. Not only that, but he joined an organization devoted to seducing others into exactly the same lifestyle (irony strongly intended).

Rather than see that he needed psychological help and counseling after an abusive childhood and then rejection and abandonment by his own mother, like so many of these ex-gay faggots (as Dan Savage likes to call them, because not a single one of those pathetic individuals are heterosexual), Randy Thomas made the fatal leap of seeing correlation where there was no causation. He associated the emptiness that he felt with homosexuality, not the emotionally empty sexual encounters he was having with other men.

I’ve felt that same emptiness too after a hookup that comes from the deep longing I have within me for a partner and kindred spirit, and not finding it in those encounters. We’re complex social primates, and that’s how millions of years of natural selection have groomed us for survival. For most of us, the desire for emotional companionship is embedded in our genes.

Instead of seeking real help, Randy cut himself off from his friends and support network, and joined up with bigots of the ex-gay movement who told him what he wanted to hear.

Nowhere in his public apology does Thomas take full responsibility for his part in the abuse of LGBT people, or that these beliefs were wrong and scientifically ungrounded to begin with. He apologizes for the hurt he caused, but he doesn’t actually say that the actions that caused that hurt were actually wrong. This is one of the first lessons I learned about making apologies: if you were in the wrong, you admit it. Instead we have this masquerading as an apology:

“I apologize to the gay community for idealizing and reinforcing the institutional groupthink of Exodus. I apologize for remaining publicly silent about the hurt caused by some of Exodus’ leaders and actions. I also apologize for my inexperienced participation in public policy, placing my personal ambition over truly serving the gay community as a Christian friend.”

This is virtually no different from saying: “I apologize for shooting you. But it was for your own good, and to keep you from going down an even worse path. I regret hurting you though! Friends?” That’s not an apology. That’s excuse making, designed to let the offender off the hook from feeling guilty about his/her past actions.

The fact is that Randy Thomas and everyone in the ex-gay movement knows that their ship is sinking, and fast. Their claim of evidence of change in sexual orientation evaporated into thin air, because it was never there to begin with. Every mainstream medical body in the world has affirmed that there is nothing aberrant or pathological about homosexuality. The much touted Mark Regnerus study that was supposed to prove that same-sex parents ultimately harm their children turned out to be fraudulent.

And they’re likely trying to make friends amongst enemies before the anti-ex-gay animus really heats up.

If Randy Thomas wants to “make amends,” he could start by inventing a time machine, going back and smacking some sense into his young adult self. Or spending his time volunteering in shelters for gay teens who have been disowned by their bigoted Christian parents, and helping them reject the lies that he helped perpetrate, come to accept themselves as the beautiful human beings they are, and find healthy and emotionally mature ways of expressing their sexuality.

Hell, just a decent sex ed course would be a start.

But this so-called apology is a joke. It’s self-pitying, self-congratulatory, and blame-shifting. Whatever his motivations here, an apology without action is worthless.

182. muster

Saw a caption a few weekends ago on one of the blogs I follow that read: “Don’t go to bed alone this #PRIDE weekend.” It accompanied the picture of an adorable, lightly bearded guy in briefs laying in bed with a sexy “come hither” look.

I certainly wouldn’t have kicked him out of bed, but that’s not exactly the kind of thing I go for these days.

Minneapolis Pride (or “Gay Pride,” as my mom refers to it) was a few weeks ago at the end of June. And I decided to skip it entirely this year. My friends (gay and straight) who found out I didn’t go reacted with surprise to horror.

“But, it’s Pride!” they all seemed to be saying. “Isn’t that, like, gay Christmas?”

I didn’t go the first couple years after I came out, partly because I wasn’t interested, but mostly because I didn’t know anyone to go with. My first few years as an openly gay man were lonely, truth be told. Aside from the handful of hookups I had in the months after I broke up with my first boyfriend, I didn’t know many other gays. It really isn’t until late last year that my circle of friends became much more gay-weighted.

My first Pride event was about two years ago, when I went with Kristian, a guy I dated for a few months. Last year I manned booths for Minnesota Atheists and the HRC, the latter at which I got badly sunburned and a mild case of sunstroke. There were plenty of hot, virtually naked guys to look at; plenty to drink (if you don’t mind cheap beer that’s overly priced and that one has to get cash for); and plenty to do, but that was about it.

This year… I dunno. It feels as though I haven’t stopped moving since relocating to Uptown at the beginning of June. There’s been a lot to do with cleaning and making my new apartment liveable (there were three straight guys living here before me, and the managers didn’t do much to clean up after them when they moved out), and also simply socializing with people now that I’m so close to everything in this area.

Another factor was the passage of both the marriage bill in Minnesota and the overturning of section 3 of DOMA, and knowing that there were going to be a ton of couples there, many of which were likely planning weddings. And there I’d be, by myself (even if it was with friends), and feeling like that there’s this special, exclusive club that I’m not a member of.

Mostly it came down to my frustration with just not feeling like I belong in the “gay community.” I realize that there are a lot of people who also feel this way, and also that there’s no monolithic way to be “gay.” Hell, the whole premise of the LGBT movement is diversity, right?

So why didn’t I feel that I really belonged at Pride?

Part of it is the party atmosphere that seems to pervade both Pride events and gay male culture in general. It’s one orgiastic celebration of… something. From the pounding shitty house music to the drag queens to the raucous laughter… it’s not really my cup of tea. I don’t do well with forced merriment. It’s the garlic to my vampire — a sure-fire method to keep me away.

I just don’t feel very “gay.” All I share in common with most gay men is our mutual attraction to other men. That’s about it.

• I could care less about Perez Hilton, Ru Paul, fashion, gossip, or pop culture. I’ve managed to remain relatively Glee-free, and intend to keep it that way.
• Gay bars? Too loud, crowded, and mostly full of obnoxious twinks. Or older men who still think they’re twinks.
• Calling other men “her” or “miz”? *Gag.*
• Obsession with show tunes? Only if they were penned by Stephen Sondheim, Leonard Bernstein, Jason Robert Brown, Noël Coward, or Kurt Weill. Aside from Sondheim, most gay men I know haven’t a clue who the other three I listed are.
• “Opera queens” sobbing over Romantic operas (e.g., Puccini, Verdi, Donizetti)? Not me. Edward Rothstein penned a New York Times essay in 1993 about the intimate relationship between gay men and opera. In it, Wayne Koestenbaum is quoted as saying: “We [gay men] turn to opera because we need to breathe.” Spare me that bullshit. I will say that, thanks to my friend Matthew, I have a growing appreciation for Wagner, but it feels more akin to collegiate admiration than the growings of a deep, abiding passion.

There have been times in the years that I’ve come out when I’ve felt pressure to “act” more “gay,” as if people (especially my women friends) expect me to be more like the stereotype of a gay man — i.e., queeny, witty, frivolous, overly dramatic, etc. And that’s not me. What I said when I came out holds true today: I’m the same person I’ve always been, albeit more honest.

Basically, there is virtually nothing “campy” or feminine about me, not because I’m self-loathing but because it doesn’t interest me. This is a primary reason I feel alienated from the gay community. I don’t feel that I “fit in.” I feel no need for luxury, as epitomized by “old guard” gays like Liberace. In terms of decorating and clothes, I prefer a sparser, more “masculine” style. The music I like tends to be angular, rhythmically and harmonically complex and muscular and characteristically unromantic, a fact that scandalizes most of the gay men I share that fact with.

Also—I don’t want to have sex with every guy I see, nor am I capable of doing so. (Thus, why gay clubs don’t really appeal to me.) Honestly, I don’t see guys as meat, or as conquests. I have to really connect with someone to get to that level of intimacy.

In short: I’m me. An iconoclast. And always will be.