Another Story®

How it started, the short version.

Her Story... Lavon Little Link

"We've Come a Long Way Baby" My brother, Joe, who was 22 months younger and I grew up in a home filled with tension. I mention that to say that this tension formed a bond between us that made for a very close relationship. By the time we were young adults the Viet Nam war was raging, and Joe was drafted into the infantry. It was a difficult time for our family. It was during the time in Viet Nam that Joe came to terms with the fact that he was gay, but it would be several more years before he would be able to tell me.

After the war, Joe moved to Los Angeles and went to work for Capital Records. After a very short time he was promoted to the position of being responsible for all of Capital Records' international contracts. He had an enviable life with a home in LA and an apartment in Paris. His travels were extensive. It was during those years that Joe, on a visit to our home in Tulsa, would one evening sitting in our living room, tell me that he was gay. He told me that he had waited a while to tell me this because I was married to a Baptist minister, and he felt that I would not accept him because of that. I was glad that I could tell him honestly that I had already figured that out, and that all I wanted for him was that he be happy. Although he never was.

As I have listened to the stories told here in this room I have not heard anyone tell of the violence that can sometimes be associated with these relationships. Joe got involved with a young man who wound up beating him severely, and while Joe recovered in the hospital, the man drained his bank accounts and stole many items of value from his home. Because of the nature of their relationship in the early '80s, and in the culture of those years, Joe didn't report any of this to the police. I flew to LA to be with him a few days while he recovered, and it was a dark and depressing time to be with him. I left LA feeling very uneasy and with a sense of dread for what was to come. In the early '80s AIDS began to come to the surface, and Joe's friends began to die. No one knew why. Those early deaths were painful and lingering with no treatment available because doctors were not sure what they were dealing with. AIDS was a death sentence. Joe sat by the bedside of five very close friends who died of AIDS. Joe didn't have AIDS, but on Christmas Eve, 1984 Joe took his own life. I think there were many factors that led to Joe's death...early tension in our home seemed to have more negative impact on Joe than on me...Viet Nam and dealing with death on a daily basis, and 18 months of incredible daily stress, coming to grips with being gay during a time that was totally unacceptable in our culture...being alongside numerous friends as they died of AIDS. All of this, plus a number of additional factors weighed heavily on him.

As I've listened to the stories told here, and the current struggles we still have, I'm also aware that we have made strides in the understanding of a gay lifestyle, and the care and treatment of AIDS. I wish that every family could find a safe place to land like the "safe place" that is offered here...a place where they could also share their stories. As I have moved forward in my own life, I have found God's grace to be sufficient to cover my own loss of my brother whom I deeply loved. It has also helped me to offer that same grace to those around me, both gay and straight who are hurting. In recent years I have read several books written by Henri Nouwen. If you are not familiar with him, let me introduce him to you. He was an internationally renowned author, priest, respected professor, and beloved pastor. He wrote 40 books on the spiritual life and spoke five languages fluently. In the past year (2011), Dr. Nouwen's book, "The Return of the Prodigal Son", has had a profound impact on my life. When I first read this, I was unaware that he was gay. It was a secret that he kept from all but a few people during his life. The priest was a celibate homosexual. I suddenly realized why his writings so resounded with me. He struggled all his life with rejections, the wound of loneliness, and restlessness. This fall I was leading a Sunday morning Bible study at our church based on the Prodigal Son. I used several references to Nouwen's book. I did not put any reference in my lesson to Nouwen being gay, but asked God in my prayer time to prompt me if He wanted me to speak up while I was teaching. As I began to open up to them about this and about how different our children see this issue than we did/do, I began to see heads nod in affirmation of what I was saying. When I completed the study, many came to me to tell me how meaningful the study had been. There was one man who had sat on the back row of the room who I couldn't "read". He is a very outspoken person with very strong opinions. I had interpreted his silence to be disapproval since he seldom holds back his opinions. The next Sunday when I walked into that same room, he said he would like to visit with me for a moment about last Sunday's study. I thought to myself, "Here it comes!". He said to me, "There was only one thing wrong with your lesson last Sunday". When I asked what that was, he said. "You didn't ask for questions or comments. I just knew you would get some negative feedback, and I was going to lambast them. I have a couple of nephews who are gay, and I would not put up with negative talk." As Aubin always says, "To put a face on gay changes your attitude."

Another Story Coming Soon.

In addition to overseeing their care and transition to care facilities, I started to re-establish myself in Ft Worth. Most of my time and energy was devoted to them, and while I was happy to do that, I felt really alone. One evening at dinner with a couple of friends, and spilling my heart out to them, they suggested that I go online to try and meet someone. Well, that was just way beyond my comfort zone, but ultimately, I decided to give it a try. I started dating, but again, no real connection. You really do have to "kiss a lot of frogs", so to speak! HA! The feeling of loneliness never went away, and finally, I gave my problem to God. During lots of prayer and meditation, I looked within myself and did an honest self-assessment of my strengths and weaknesses, and what I needed in a life partner... or what I thought I needed. Fast-forward a couple of months.......

While searching through the dating website, I could tell who was viewing my profile. Garrett's profile kept popping up. Finally, I messaged him to say hello. We started chatting online and got to know each other just a bit that way. In April of that year, we decided to meet for a first date. I had always been very careful to meet at a local restaurant, but for some reason, I told him to come by the house and we would go to dinner from there. Armed with my mental checklist, the more we talked, the more checks were being checked off! Try saying that 5 times, very quickly! You see, as I said before, I told God what was in my heart, and talking to Garrett on that first date, I began to see some very specific things being answered... all without my prompting. You remember my decision to pull up stakes and move back to DC? Well, come to find out that Garrett was up for a promotion at work, which would require him to move to.... wait for it.... Washington, DC. Things like this happened all during the evening. Our first date turned out to be the beginning of our journey together. I used to say that he came over and never went home. After awhile, I realized that what actually happened was that he found his home. We both fell hard for one another, and quickly. Never before had I wanted to know someone so completely. It turns out he felt the same way. 

It is often said that relationships are hard work. I guess that is partly true, but it seems that, at the same time, ours has been almost effortless. We joke that it is a good thing we found each other because no one else would have us. We just "get" each other! One time, I asked Garrett if he had any regrets in our relationship. He said no and asked me the same thing. I told him yes, there was just one... that we had not met earlier in life. He thought a moment and replied: "No, if we had, we would not have been ready for each other."

 Five years into our relationship, I woke up one morning and glanced over at Garrett. Out of the blue, I was struck with an overwhelming sense that nothing in life was more important than marrying this man. He woke up, and looked at me and quizzically said: 'Whaaaat?" I told him my feelings, and asked him to marry me. His reply? "I was wondering when you were going to ask me!". We started making plans and did a destination wedding... in Washington, DC...on top of the Hay Adams Hotel... looking directly down on the White House. Pretty amazing stuff! Couples often share that there are jitters along the way, but neither of us had any. We just knew that we were meant to be together, and this was the next step in our journey. We were married on the very hottest day in late July 2011. In front of our friends, our ceremony opened with my favorite Scripture: "This is the day that the Lord has made. Let us rejoice!" And we did just that!

There are those that would condemn us to Hell for being gay, and would have our right to marry wiped away in a heartbeat. I cannot wrap my mind around such cruelty. I have to believe that just as I poured my heart out to God about a life-mate, that he more than answered my prayers. Did I get everything that I thought was important? No. I can't speak entirely for Garrett, but I believe I received something far better... the person that God knew I needed. And isn't it funny that what I had longed for all those years was pretty much in my own back yard, so to speak! We never did make the move back to Washington. We remain in Ft Worth, living openly and honestly. And what was once "my" history and "his" history, has wonderfully become "our" history! 

Ms. Bailey- My Story:

How one school district’s discrimination became fuel for a group of allies to start a fire and create change.

There are two words you don’t often hear together: gay teacher.  It’s uncomfortable to straight and gay people alike to think about discussing sexual orientation in front of children.  I’d like for you to think about all the times a teacher mentioned her husband or kids during class.  When doing this, is she putting her sexual orientation on display? For some reason, the oversexualization of gay people has created a toxic and unsafe environment for gay educators.  When a gay teacher mentions a spouse, people tremble at the audacity that sexual orientation is being discussed in front of children.  The truth is, sexual orientation has always been discussed in front of children.  Straight teachers have been doing it for generations.

My question to you is:  Is there anything sexually explicit about mentioning a family? Gay people, not only in education, but in workplaces everywhere have felt the oversexualization of our families for decades.  I have a question to all the allies listening:  how many times have you casually mentioned your spouse or children at work?  Have you ever had to question your safety or job security when doing so?  It’s time we have that uncomfortable discussion about the double standard, recognize privilege, and make our workplaces safe for all families.

The Supreme Court of the United States made a ruling on June 15, 2020 that extended workplace protections to the LGBTQ population.  We have never been a “protected class” of people, nationally, until now. Before this ruling, in 2017, I experienced workplace discrimination that changed my life.  I’d like to share my story with you. Maybe we can think of it now as a story that never needs to happen again and celebrate the end of stories like mine.

Teachers have the power to change lives.  We have all had teachers who have made an impact on our life.  For me, the people I loved the most in my life were teachers.  My granny was a teacher’s aide at the elementary school I went to.  She was loved not only by her school, but by generations of families in our community.  Her name meant something to a lot of people.  I was proud to say that “Ms. Bailey” was MY granny. When I got my first job as an elementary art teacher in 2008, I could not wait to take my granny’s name and become someone’s ‘Ms. Bailey’ for myself.

Teaching and connecting with kids came naturally to me, and I was voted Teacher of the Year twice.  The first time, in 2011, happened to be the year I came out of the closet AND made my first appearance in the Dallas Voice newspaper.  My face and story were literally in a gay newspaper the same year I accepted my first teacher of the year award.  Just as a fun fact.  The second time I received this award in 2017, my wife, Julie, attended the event with me and sat right next to my principal.  My job was such a big part of who I was, that I started living my truth in front of my students in 2012.  I was never any good at lying, I’ve been that way my whole life. 

My ability to be honest and authentic with students was a big reason they connected with me so easily.  I started out each year by showing a silly slideshow of my family that included baby pictures of myself, my parents, my siblings, my hobbies, and vacations.  It’s fun to start the year laughing with your students.

Connections and lasting impressions on the very first day are the teacher hack for all teachers who hope to make an impact.  In 2017, I was still riding the high of winning Teacher of the Year only three months prior.  Year ten of my teaching career was a go!

But only two weeks into the school year, on September 8, 2017, I was removed from my classroom and never allowed to return.  Human Resources informed me that I was being suspended and put under investigation due to a parent complaint. One parent had written the school board saying I had shown a gay-lifestyle slide show, I was pushing a homosexual agenda, indoctrinating the children, and explicitly describing my intimate relationship with a woman.  My eyes, my heart, and my brain went blank.

My family had been oversexualized in a disgusting way and I was sitting in a gay teacher’s worst nightmare.  How could a parent email place me in this chair right now?  I cried.  I offered to email and show the pictures that I used.  I had only shown my wife and I in our Finding Dory and Nemo Halloween costumes making silly fish faces.  The students had all laughed. 

I was told my computer was being taken from my classroom as I sat there, and they would gather the evidence they needed. It was clear that the harassment from this one parent was backed by the prejudice of my superintendent and school board. I was told that the investigation could take up to 2 weeks. In the meantime, I was not allowed be in contact with my students, their parents, my coworkers, or even step foot onto district property.  My badge, and the key to my classroom that I had kept for 10 years were taken from me, and I was sent home.

I thought when marriage equality passed 2015, it came with sweeping protections for us.  This was not true at all. The following Monday my phone was flooded with texts and calls from my work family.  I had suddenly disappeared without leaving sub notes or telling anyone.  They were immediately concerned.  I was told that if I responded to their messages or checked my email, it would be seen as breaking a directive from my suspension and the district would have valid reason to fire me.  

I expected a phone call within the week to clarify any misunderstanding.  This investigation should only take a few days, they will find nothing, and I’ll be back to work soon; that is what I thought.

On my 57th day of waiting, silenced and isolated, the district lawyer asked for my resignation.  There was no evidence or reason provided. Most people don’t understand the process of removing a teacher from a job.  So, I have a quick teachable moment, if you will, that will help you better understand how school districts work.  They are tiny government entities.

There are 3 ways to remove a teacher from her job.  The first and most common way is with a resignation.  This is mostly voluntary.  If there is a problem a district can ask you to resign.  Most teachers comply immediately if they want the chance to ever teach again.  The other two options are career ending.

Firing a teacher is extremely difficult.  The district would need to provide evidence to a judge in Austin.  The teacher would provide a defense, and a bipartisan judge would make the final call.  This is expensive and is almost never used.  Don’t worry though, school districts have a sneaky and easy equivalent to firing a teacher.  It’s called a Non-Renewal.  A non-renewal is basically the same as firing a teacher but without the due process and bipartisan judge.  All that is needed for this to pass is a school board vote.  A teacher is allowed to speak in a public forum BUT, it really doesn’t matter because by the time you make it to the nonrenewal hearing, the school board has already decided their votes. 

If a teacher is ever threatened with a non-renewal, most resign immediately to save their career.  I just want you to keep this in mind as my story continues. 

First meeting

I knew the district didn’t have any evidence to fire me, so I refused their offer for me to resign; I was not going to just give up my classroom.   Finally, on January 9, 2018, 123 days into my isolation and waiting, I finally had a meeting.

My union lawyer advised me to be mostly quiet and compliant if I wanted my job back.  During this meeting I heard phrases like, “you just don’t meet community standards.”, “we are concerned that we had a gay activist in the classroom,” And “We just don’t know that we can trust what you will say if we allow you back into your classroom.” As you can imagine, I did not remain quiet and stood up to them with words like, “equal treatment,” “discrimination”,  And “Do you expect me to lie to my students?”

I refused to admit that mentioning my family in class was wrong. I told them how much I missed my kids, and how that school had been my family for a decade. Honestly, I cried, and pleaded for my job.

The following week, the district notified me that if I didn’t turn in my resignation (with a non-disclosure agreement) by the end of the month, they would proceed with a non-renewal.  So, my options were: leave quietly and never be allowed to discuss my suspension or receive a non-renewal and effectively end my career.  Either way, my classroom was gone. 

Dark Days

This is when the silence and darkness swept over my life.  I grieved the loss of my job as if a person had died.  So much of my identity was tied up in getting to be ‘Ms. Bailey’, I could not imagine my life any other way. I had called the ACLU and Lambda Legal, we met with local lawyers asking for advice, but no one would hear me because they didn’t see potential for…. money.  I felt like no one was listening or cared.  I felt helpless.

I wondered, if I was dead, would people finally hear me?  Would the truth finally come out if I was gone?  It was a very scary low for me and my wife both.  

Thankfully, I sought help to deal with these thoughts.  While I worked daily to help myself, my school family and a group of allies came to the rescue.

Open Records Request, Parent Response

I had been out of the classroom for five months without explanation.  My coworkers and parents had grown tired of the silence. One parent did an open records request and found an email I sent to the school board requesting LGBTQ inclusive language in school policy.  And I was removed from the classroom the very next day. 

When my school family began to figure out what was going on, they showed up for me.  This was not a group of queer people who rose up in my defense, it was a group of allies.  They knew and loved me based on my connections with their kids, they knew I was gay, they knew what was happening was wrong, and THEY began to make noise.  They attended school board meetings for three months to demand answers and my return back to the classroom.  Parents, students, and coworkers lined up by the dozens to speak on my behalf when I did not have a voice for myself.  This is the power of the ally.

As I said, by the time this started happening I was in a very low mental state.  I watched these meetings virtually from home.  For hours, one by one, I saw parents, and coworkers speak about what I meant to their families.  They cried.  Hearing the words of my school family was my first breath of air.  I was in a dark place, and they provided light and hope that I wasn’t alone.

I told my therapist that I heard all these words from my school family about Ms. Bailey, but I felt like they were talking about someone I used to be.  I had spent so many days alone and being degraded, I had lost all sense of myself.  And she said to me, “Ok.  You don’t have to be THAT Ms. Bailey right now, but IF THAT Ms. Bailey were sitting next to you, what would she do?”

I can’t exactly explain how the phrasing of that question allowed me to think differently.  But one thing was undeniable: I knew that Ms. Bailey would stand up for truth.

Media, anxiety;

My email was released to the media in March of 2018, and things started to take on a life of their own.  There are now hundreds of articles about my story all over the world.

While I did feel some sort of relief that the truth was coming out, I was still under the directives from my suspension.  Any comment from me, and I would still be fired.  While people started to build this perception of me as a strong teacher fighting for justice, I actually spent most of these days bent over a toilet dry heaving with anxiety.

I saw my story and my face literally flying around the world like a meteor, and I had no control or voice to speak for myself.  My school family rode this wave hard and screamed loudly.  This crazy amount of media came to fruition without one word from me.  This is the power of the ally.

I had to ignore the media, and continue to walk as if I was the person the world was talking about; even though I had forgotten what she looked like.  Each step felt like I was trying to remember who I used to be.

California Lawyer

A lawyer whom I had never met from California read my story, found my number and pleaded with me to find an employment discrimination lawyer.  I told him I was tired of fighting, I was being advised to resign, and I didn’t think I could continue on. 

He said with real conviction: “unfortunately really shitty things need to happen to good people for change to come.  BUT those good people MUST file a lawsuit so we can set precedence.”  He said that cases like mine could create small stepping-stones in the justice system that could one day lead to a big decision like a Supreme Court Ruling that could change life for everyone, not just teachers.  This was a random straight guy. I could not believe he cared so adamantly about my rights.  He coached me through writing a paragraph I could read to any lawyer I called.  He said do not stop calling until you find one who listens. This is the power of the ally.  I agreed to make phone calls for only one more day.

Finding Jason, Non-Renewal and Lawsuit

That same day someone texted me the name and number of an employment discrimination lawyer named Jason Smith.  I called him expecting the rejection that I had already faced, but for the first time, he HEARD me and understood what I was fighting for: this cannot happen to another gay teacher; schools cannot take our jobs away and not be held accountable; this is not about money.  He actually agreed and gave me the courage and guidance to continue on.

I felt the weight of all the gay teachers who came before me.  There is no telling how many gay teachers have been bullied out of their profession.  I knew that if I did not stand now, I would pass this burden on to someone else.  When your passion is stripped away from you, and your dignity is under attack it becomes a matter of life and death.  That’s when I knew it was my time to stand.

I did the opposite of what my district was expecting and told them to proceed with my non-renewal hearing.  Yes, my career would be over, but at least I would have stood in my truth and held on to my integrity. 

After the flurry of media coverage, my district was exposed and had no good explanation for why they did this.  Suddenly, after all of the threats, my contract was renewed but, I was relocated to a high school. A place they felt my existence was more “age-appropriate.”

This discriminating action against me was the last straw, and on May 8, 2018, I filed a federal lawsuit against the district. 

High School Teacher- 1 ½ years of waiting, Judge’s Ruling, Settlement

In August of 2018, I began teaching at Lake Ridge H.S.  I decided to stay in the district that had done this to me.  That school district had been my family for a decade, and I felt that it was important for me to stay visible and see this fight to the end.  I kept my head down, I made connections, I learned how to be a high school teacher; it came with a lot of trauma and panic attacks, but like I said before I took each step trying to remember who I used to be hoping that one day, I’d take a step back into myself and remember how to be Ms. Bailey.

We waited one and a half years until finally there was movement in my case.

In November of 2019, a federal judge in Dallas, made a ruling that condemned the actions of my school district.  This judge was a straight man who saw me as a human that deserved equal treatment under the law.  This is the power of the ally. 

The negotiated settlement of $100,000 was seen as a big win for gay teachers in Texas and across the country.

My hope for other Gay Teachers

The whole reason I filed a lawsuit was to declare that my family is equal to all families.  I hoped to be a beacon to other gay teachers, and a warning to school districts.

Now, it feels like the Supreme Court ruling in June of 2020 echoed my hope on a much louder microphone for all to hear.  I hope that with this ruling, gay employees across Texas and this nation walk with confidence into their workplace.  I hope they begin to see their families as worthy to be mentioned, and I hope that the awful double standard can finally die.

Youth Programs to support now; do not forget younger generations

In June of 2020, my wife and I had the privilege to donate $10k of my settlement to a program at the Resource Center in Dallas called Youth First.

I’d like to encourage anyone reading my story to not forget the generation coming behind us.  They are still facing the same rejection from their families that many of us have faced.  Be visible, show up, volunteer, tell your story.  Whether you are gay or straight your story of acceptance of yourself or others is powerful.  Representation matters.  The next generation deserves to hear and see that they are valued.  So I challenge you to find organizations that help LGBTQ youth in your area and get involved.

12. Take Away:  Show up

Ok, I’m almost done, but I wouldn’t be a good teacher if I didn’t ask you to learn something about yourself. I’d like to end with a little bit of self-reflection.

Answer this question: are you being your true self in all parts of your life?  As a gay person, most of us learned early on to hide parts of ourselves.  When is it safe to be myself, when do I need to go back into the closet?   I will argue that many supportive straight people are closeted allies.  Is there a place in your life where you are not showing up for a rejected gay friend or family member?  Are you hiding your support for the queer community to maintain comfort?  If my school family would have done that, I may have never had a voice.  Remember the power of the ally.  

Consider the new supreme court ruling, does that empower you in a new way?  Gay and straight people alike:  Find your new power.  I challenge you to show up and live your truth out loud.  It may be scary, and it will definitely be uncomfortable, but that’s how we grow.  Sometimes the most courageous thing you can be is yourself.

With Love,

Ms. Bailey

Another Story Coming Soon.

Another Story Coming Soon.

Another Story Coming Soon.

Another Story Coming Soon.

      COMING OUT AT AGE 60 

My story begins where most people’s stories begin, with parents. My parents were good people who valued their Southern Baptist religion and served as leaders in the various churches we joined as we moved from one town to another in South Texas. It seemed like we were at church every time the doors opened, and I learned to take my religion very seriously.

I decided to attend Baylor University because it was Baptist. It was there that I was forced to face the fact that I was “different” because my roommate and I fell head over heels in love with each other. This was a real shocker for me. We were both 17 years old. Up to that time, I had never even heard the words homosexual, gay, or lesbian. I had no vocabulary to “label” the feelings I had.  In fact, I had not known it was even possible for a girl to fall in love with a girl.  

During our freshman year in 1956, the Christmas holidays separated us for the first time. We missed each other so much we were always writing letters back and forth.  Every night I propped up in bed and wrote to her. My dad was a sociology major; and, observing my behavior, rightly concluded I was gay. He shared his fears with my mother and told her she needed to have a talk with me. She did.  She came into my bedroom that night and shared with me what she had been taught about homosexuality—that it was sinful and an unacceptable way for me to live my life. She and dad planned for me to get my teaching certificate, and that night she warned me that no school district would hire me to teach in their schools. She also told me that we would have a very difficult time just finding a place to live — no one would rent us an apartment and we’d probably have a difficult time purchasing a house. She painted a very bleak future for us as a couple.

Her talk with me that evening devastated me. I was embarrassed they knew. I felt shameful and guilty for something I felt I couldn’t help. After all, I had not planned to fall in love with a girl! I would have much preferred to fall in love with a boy, someone I could proudly show off, someone I could marry, someone with whom I could have a family.  But that hadn’t happened to me. I had fallen in love with a girl, and I felt my life was in a mess. I felt sorry for myself, and I yearned for my mother to show me a little bit of sympathy. 

But I received no sympathy, only condemnation along with a cease and desist type of message.  I learned to be secretive, to pretend to be someone I really wasn’t. I had always dated, and I continued to date throughout college. It was part of the “front,” part of the “fitting in” that was part of my life. 

Often, when I’d come home on weekends from college, Mother would have arranged a blind date for me. Girls were expected to marry, and she was worried because I didn’t seem to be serious about any particular boy. The message for me was loud and clear — get my teaching certificate and get married. 

When I was 23, I simply said to myself, you’re not ever going to fall in love with a man, just pick a nice fellow you think you can be happy with, marry him, and get it over with!  At that time, I had earned two college degrees and was teaching high school in Odessa, Texas. Soon after my decision to “just get married,” a friend arranged a blind date for me. He was a nice fellow, a teacher with ambitions to eventually be a school administrator. This appealed to me as my dad was a school administrator. His dad was a Southern Baptist minister. He loved children and wanted to have a family. And I very much wanted to have children. He seemed to fit all the criteria. We were married in 1963.

It wasn’t long afterwards when I realized I had made a terrible mistake. I was very unhappy. When I began to seriously consider divorce, we had had our first child, a little boy, named after his dad. As I thought about divorce, I thought it would be cruel to separate this little boy and his father. They were crazy about each other. Then I thought of the shame I would bring upon my parents who were in the public eye, because getting a divorce in the 60’s was shameful! Then I thought of the pain I would bring to my in-laws by divorcing their eldest son. 

The more I thought about it, the more I always came to the same conclusion — that the only one who would benefit from a divorce would be me, which would make divorce a very selfish act. I had been taught all my life not to be selfish.  I therefore made up my mind to honor my wedding vows — till death do us part. And that’s what I did— for 37 years.

But I was very unhappy during that time. I told no one I was gay. I especially didn’t want my husband to find out I was gay. I guarded my secret and lived in constant fear someone would find out I was gay.

I never read anything about being gay for fear someone would see me reading that kind of literature and figure out I was gay. I therefore remained ignorant about the subject and went through life thinking I was unique — one of a kind.

I avoided having close friendships with women for fear I might fall in love with one. After all, that’s what had happened to me in college. And by pretending to be something I really wasn’t, I became a shell of a person. I placed myself in bondage — bondage to a lie. You can’t imagine what that is like unless you have actually experienced it yourself. It’s debilitating. I certainly wasn’t the person God created me to be.

I began to think of my inability to love a man as “that dirty trick God played on me.” Over and over I had that thought.  And then I’d add to it by saying “but God is trying to make up for that dirty trick by giving me a good life.”  And I did have a good life. I had married a good man, I had four wonderful children, and I had a secure life.

But I thought of my college “love” all the time, missing her, wondering what her life was like, and then tears would come. I yearned to die because I was convinced I could never be happy here on earth. Only after death, in heaven, could I be happy. I spent most of my life planning various methods to commit suicide. It was always on my mind. I eventually began praying, “Lord, please let me die. Just take me, Lord. I’m ready to go.” Over and over this prayer would go through my mind.

But in August, 1999, my life changed. At that time I was teaching a ladies Sunday School class at the First Baptist Church in Tyler, Texas. The class was small, and I hadn’t been teaching it for very long and didn’t know the members very well. One day I was visiting with a member of my class who was telling me about her son. As she described how thoughtful and kind he was, especially to his grandmother, a thought came to me, “He’s gay!” I actually had no doubt about it. There’s no logical reason why I thought that, but I am now convinced that God put that thought in my head.  And I also believe God prodded me into doing what I did next. I asked her, “Is your son a homosexual?”

You don’t go around asking people that question, people you don’t know well, people who live in conservative East Texas, and especially those who are members of a Baptist church! Naturally, she was shocked by my question, hesitated, then eventually said, “Yes, but that’s just the way God made him and God loves him just the way he is. And we should, too.”

Now it was my turn to be shocked. Her statement that God loves gays just as they are, that they didn’t have to pretend to be straight, changed my life.

It would take too long to explain all the emotions I experienced that afternoon. I’m ashamed to admit that my final emotion that day was toward this married, straight woman. Her words of acceptance, words I had never heard before (and I was 60 years of age at that time), stirred that dead spot in my heart, and I fell in love with her. After all my efforts to avoid this very problem:  refusing to tell anyone I was gay, never reading about it, avoiding close friendships — all of those efforts were for naught. That feeling of love for a woman came out of the blue and hit me hard.

I could no longer pretend. I simply had to get out of my marriage. So about four months later, I asked my husband for a divorce, simply telling him I was very unhappy in the marriage. At that time, I had no intention of ever "coming out of the closet."  

Several months later, my husband sent me a long e-mail asking me to please tell him specifically why I had been so unhappy in the marriage. I could tell from his letter that he was blaming himself for some things that had nothing to do with the divorce. I didn’t want to answer his letter, but I told myself that after 37 years of marriage, I owe him the truth. I replied with a long letter admitting I was gay and have always been gay. I then tried to explain what it’s like to be gay in a world that doesn’t accept gays.

He immediately responded asking if he could come by my apartment the next morning. Of course, I told him he could. He knocked on my door about 9 a.m. and when I opened it, he held out his arms, enveloped me in them, held me tight and began sobbing. I held him and cried. When we eventually sat down on the sofa, I placed a box of tissues between us. I gave him an opportunity to vent — to voice his frustrations through the years with what he had always referred to as “the wall between us.” He had instinctively known there was a wall, but I never explained it to him. Now he knew what it was.

In the course of our conversation, he asked, “Is this something you thought about every year?

      “Every year? I thought about it every day!”

      To which he replied, “It must have been a miserable life.”

      I didn’t say a word, because he was right.

Coming out to my husband began my coming out process to family and friends. When I came out to my brother who lived in California, he told me I needed a support group and suggested PFLAG. That stood for Parents, Families and Friends of Lesbians and Gays. I had never heard of it, but I looked it up on the web and found a local chapter. I called their telephone number, found out when and where they would next meet, then on Monday evening, April 10, 2000, I drove to St. Francis Episcopal Church where I parked my car and just sat in it for a while. I needed to gather up courage to walk into a meeting where I would be outing myself to total strangers.

As I sat there, I have to admit there was a certain curiosity as to what other gays looked like and acted like. I was as much a victim of misinformation about gays as everyone else. When I eventually walked into that room of 25 to 30 people, there was an empty chair by this lovely young woman, Brenda McWilliams. God was really watching out for me that evening. She and I have been in a committed, covenant relationship for 20 years, the last 5 as legally married.

I found that first PFLAG meeting to be very much like a church service — so much talk about God and assuring us that God loves us despite messages voiced from various pulpits.

When I began coming out in my church, I started feeling uncomfortable. Several members that I considered friends simply could not look me in the eye. It made me feel that they saw me as the very epitome of evil itself. I gave serious consideration to leaving the church and finding somewhere else to worship where I would feel more comfortable 

But I feel God nudged me again and reminded me that I had been a member of that church for almost 12 years and that during that time I was known as a Christian wife, mother, Sunday School teacher, hand bell ringer, and a regular and active member of the church. If I left the church, I would be throwing away all that "good will," so to speak.  But if I stayed, I had an opportunity to be an example of a Gay Christian, what to many, if not most, was an oxymoron.

So I stayed. And when Brenda joined me there, we became our church's example of a gay Christian couple. We made a point of sitting together about the third row from the front in the center section where everyone could see us. We remained in the church for an additional 14 years, finally leaving in 2015.

I spent most of my life believing that being gay was some kind of moral failing and I did everything in my power to hide the fact that I was gay. I played my chosen role of being straight with such skill I often told myself I deserved an Oscar for my performance. Now I know that being gay is just the way some people are, it's the way I am. After years of hiding, I'm thankful for God's love and for the freedom He gives me to simply be who I am.

In 2013, I completed writing my "coming out" story and published it under the title "A Christian Coming Out." Then a different publishing company asked me to rewrite it, which I did; and in 2016, it was published under the title "OUT, A Courageous Woman's Journey."

For those interested in a video of my story, go to: https://www.c-span.org/video/?445082-1/out

My original purpose in writing my book was to convince fundamentalist Christians that "being gay" is not chosen. I've always felt my story exemplified perfectly the absurdity of that belief--that all you had to do was pray and you could change from gay to straight. Goodness knows, I prayed! For years I prayed, and I knew that was not the solution. It did not change me.

It didn't take me long to realize fundamentalist Christians are not at all interested in my story. However, I quickly learned that those who were interested were those who had lived lives similar to mine or those who had gay children.

I have now shared my story with 81 groups (my age at this time). Most of these gatherings are PFLAG groups, but I've also spoken to college classrooms, churches, and various venues. It's amazing how many come up to me afterward to say, "You just told my story." Or after some statement I made, they would say, "That's exactly how I felt."

So I have become a voice for many who have the same story to share but have not had the opportunity to share it like I have. I never started off to be a gay advocate. That was not my goal. My goal was to convince fundamentalist Christians that being gay is not chosen. In the attempt to achieve that goal, I have become a gay activist. I'm now proud of the fact that I am gay. I wouldn't trade it for anything.

My Another Story - Mark McCoy

First of all, I was raised Presbyterian. Not Baptist. I didn't realize what a difference that made in my life until I started really listening to the stories told by the many Baptist friends I have made over the last 12 years or so.

My parents took me and my three younger brothers to church every Sunday. We were active in youth group, sang in the choir, all the usual stuff. In retrospect, I realize that our church was probably one of the most progressive in our northern Indiana town, although I didn't really think about it or appreciate it at the time. Thank you, Mom and Dad!

Comparing notes with Broadway and Royal Lane friends, I feel very lucky not to have been subjected to the same hateful anti-gay messages that they were when growing up. I had a general sense that being gay was "wrong" from school and sports and society in general, but not from my church. I can only imagine how painful that would have been.

Growing up in the 80s, I remember Freddy Mercury and Elton John and Boy George. And lots of gay men dying of AIDS of course. But I never really felt the impact personally. I didn't think that was me. I was blissfully ignorant.

I stayed in the closet through high school and college, even joining a fraternity and dating women. I also stopped attending church during college, as many people that age do. I honestly only had a couple gay friends, and I was not even out to them. My younger brother came out many years before I did, and I never said a word about myself.

Between not identifying with the gay caricatures portrayed on TV and in the movies, fear of dying, and fear of disappointing my family, I had plenty of reasons to stay in the closet. But fear of burning in hell wasn't one of them.

I didn't come out until a few years after college, when I finally got so lonely and miserable that I couldn't stand it. I had come dangerously close to marrying a woman and living a lie because that was the script that had been laid out for me. That was a close call.

So I quit my job and sold my house and moved to Austin to start my life over as a gay man. Over the next ten years and two failed relationships, I learned a lot about myself and what real everyday gay people are like. Turns out I’m not as different as I thought.

I also went back to church and got back on the tennis court, and found good people both places. We had a wonderful gay tennis club in Austin that was about much more than tennis. It was a kind of ministry in its own way. We didn't read scripture, but we made meaningful connections and became each other's family of choice.

In 2008, I met David and moved to Dallas to be with him. He says he's the best thing that ever happened to me, and he's right! We were married in 2015.

David and I became Baptists thanks to the good people at Royal Lane, and happily transferred to Broadway when we moved to Arlington. We are grateful to have found such a warm and welcoming church home, and the Ragamuffins (Aubin and Mark's Sunday school class) are a huge part of it. As is Another Story. Life is good.

My Another Story - David McCoy

As a child, I enjoyed going to church and when playing with my cousins, we would often play church.  That usually consisted of someone being the song leader because singing was so important in my church.  Never, in my family, did anyone ask on a Sunday morning, are we going to church today?  It was the Lord’s Day and we were going to church.  It was an expectation, it was a commandment.  We had lots of commandments.

I loved to sing and Jesus Loves Me was one of the first songs I learned along with Jesus Loves the Little Children.  Those songs taught me that not only did Jesus love me, he loved all the children of the world.  I believed that and I believed everything I was told in church. 

The church of my youth taught me that we were right and everyone else was wrong.  I always thought it was interesting that we had salvation figured out, to the exclusion of others, but even in our absolute correctness, we really weren’t very sure about our own, individual salvation.  Questions were not really welcome so we all believed what was preached to us.

I always knew that I was different and didn’t quite fit in like everyone else.  I didn’t know what the difference was but I knew that I just wasn’t like the other kids.  But that was of little concern as I continued to grow up and I felt fortunate to be a member of THE church that had everything scripturally figured out.

Going to church every Sunday morning stuck with me.  I enjoyed church music and developed my love of southern gospel music.  I continued to enjoy singing in church and I would also enjoy watching some services on television.  I wasn’t a religious zealot out to save everyone’s soul, I just loved the music and enjoyed churchy stuff.

Remember that unidentified feeling of difference I had?  As I entered my teen years, I discovered what it was.  I was attracted to other boys!  There were really no positive terms to describe me back then.  The love message that came from the church of my childhood had faded away.  I was now an abomination.  Guys like me were described by preachers as vile sinners, lower than a dog.  When you’ve been taught all of your life that the church is right and infallible, they must be right about this too.  It’s pretty rough for a teen to hear.

God, fix me!  This is not what I want!  Please take this away from me!  I don’t want to live in sin!  I prayed fervently and tearfully about being changed but there was no change.  I still liked the boys…and hated it.  Through my teen years I felt like everything was so unfair.  I was in agony because I was doomed to live a miserable, tortured life and then what I had to look forward to was burning in hell for all eternity.  Hopelessness was an understatement.

In my early thirties, I moved from my native Oklahoma to Texas.  It was my first weekend here and it was Sunday morning.  As usual, I got up and went to a church similar to the one I grew up in.  I heard the usual negativity and condemnation and I knew I could never go to that church again.  The following Sunday, I decided to visit a Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), a denomination known for its outreach and ministry to the LGBT+ community, and my life began to change. 

Over the next several years, I started to divorce myself from a legalistic, fundamentalist mindset.  How was it that I knew a lot about the Bible but didn’t know much about Jesus?  What I have learned is that the reason God did not heal me of my gayness is because it is not a sickness.  I read Genesis with a new understanding of God’s creation.  When God created something, God took a good look at it and said, oh, this is very good.  If God created me just as I am, then I must be pretty good too.  It took several decades from my childhood for me to confidently sing again, Jesus loves me, this I know. 

The weight of the world began to lift from my shoulders.  My MCC church started a small group ministry and I was invited to join one of the groups.  As we studied, shared, and prayed together, I continued to heal from the sadness and despair I had always felt.  I loved the small group concept and its ability to create family of choice.  I asked my group leader if he thought I could lead my own group some day and he made me an apprentice leader.  When the group I was in became too large to meet in anyone’s living room, we multiplied the group into two groups and I was now a leader of my very own group. 

I was like the dog that chases cars.  When he catches one, what is he going to do with it?  Now that I have a group of my own, what am I going to do with it?  I don’t have any formal schooling in theology.  I’m not a biblical scholar.  Fortunately, I remembered the saying, nobody cares how much you know until they know how much you care.  Since many are ostracized from their biological families, all I had to do was provide a safe space for people to assemble, enjoy fellowship, let them know I loved them, was there for them, and let the Spirit do the rest.  This was something I was going to do or bust because I never forgot the sadness, loneliness, and hopelessness I had felt.

So, fast forward to the current time and there is a happy ending to the story.  I met the most wonderful man in 2008, and we were legally married in 2015.  Mark has been kind and patient and supportive through all of my shortcomings.  In the early, unhappy days of my life, I had no idea that God would bless me in so many unexpected ways; with a great husband, many close friends, and an accepting and affirming church family.  It turned out alright.  May it be so for you.