I've been thinking a lot about my adolescence lately, so I thought I would post some things pertaining to it.
This is a little old.... something I wrote for class a semester or two ago.
Adolescent Psychology Paper #1: Identity.
A response to "Case 3: The Struggle of a Lifetime."
One of the greatest struggles posed by adolescence—if not the greatest struggle—is that of defining one's identity. Identity can be characterized in many ways: the meaning or purpose of one's life, where they feel they belong, the way in which they relate to others, their self-concept, and many more; but it is important to note that no matter how it is characterized, forming one's identity always comes from a decent level of self-reflection, and a juxtaposition of the self against others and against society.
Like the author of Case 3, my childhood revolved around close family and my church community. I had been raised in the conservative Christian Church (Protestant; non-denominational; or, to quote the author of Case 3 “plain and simple absolute truth; right was right, wrong was wrong, nothing in between” ) and I believed every Bible story told to me without question. I had the reputation of “the good girl” and I found profound comfort in the arms of my faith -- to the point where I would occasionally lose friends for no other reason than my abrasive Bible-pushing. This lifestyle, something that never seemed to be a problem in elementary school, became a huge issue in the sixth grade. I started getting made fun of for anything and everything (for the first time ever) -- from my faith, to my values (particularly the fact that I didn't date or even want to date), to my glasses, to my flat chest, these kids brutally tore me apart with their words. Rare was a day when I didn’t come home from school in tears. In one [terribly long] year, I lost every elementary school friend I had, and some in rather cruel ways. This kind of severance from being “popular” and “wanted” threw me, rather violently, pretty deep into church involvement. Where I didn’t fit in at school, I found a home at church. I joined the youth group a year and a half “too young” and actively started integrating myself in with all these “mature” and “adult” (Christian) teenagers and “twenty somethings.”
To say that church was the largest part of my life from age eleven to age sixteen is far from an overstatement. I went to church five times a week and was involved in something like twelve ministries. [A long, but far-from-complete list follows: Prison ministry at the Youth Residential Center, Alpha Outreach (a program for new believers), band practice for the youth group worship band, band practice for the children’s church praise band, Bible study, leadership training, nursery care, church luncheons and fundraisers, youth group itself, and church itself. I’d like to add that I did not do all these things every week, but I really did do all these things at some point in that time span.] Being involved in all these ministries brought me a sense of fulfillment. They also painted me in a good light, even when I was a gossip, a liar, a hypocrite, terribly judgmental, and perhaps worst of all, extremely depressed.
Similar to the writer of this Case, I had little more than my reputation those years, and it meant the world to me; I couldn’t let my true colors show, for fear that someone would judge me. (And if they judged me half as harshly as I judged them, it would have been a bad scene.) I continued to be perceived as “the good girl” and I found pride in my ministries, my faith, and my church friends, especially as my grades started to decline. I continued to have no close friends at school. Exactly as the Case states: “Evangelical talk about purity and walking the narrow path of righteousness made me judgmental of my peers at school” and that judgment kept me from forming real relationships. I wasn’t a loner by any means, and I had a handful of acquaintances, but when the time came to have a heart-to-heart, unless their beliefs lined up squarely with mine, I found it in myself to be self-righteous and tell them why they were wrong. The writer of the Case laments, “if loneliness was the cost of this kind of affirmation, I felt I had made the wrong choice” but I, unfortunately, couldn’t understand how lonely or hurting I was, and continued on my destructive path.
My motivation had slowly turned and focused elsewhere, however; I developed a lot of pride over being thirteen and playing for crowds of three hundred or more. Akin to the writer of the case, I wondered “had church, too, become part of my so-called good-person image?” I was pretty sure that it had. My involvement in those ministries was a lot more about me than it was about God and, aware of this, I continuously repented of this. But I never felt things ever fully return to the place I needed them to be. I was fifteen and struggling; my self-worth which rested in my grades was compromised by low marks (low marks which stemmed from my depression and an inability to study or focus on homework) and my self-worth which rested on being a good Christian was compromised because I was aware that I was a gossip, a hypocrite, a liar, and depressed. I struggled and struggled and then, at sixteen, something tremendous happened that shook my entire world, something so big I had pull myself from ministry. I fell in love with a girl.
Falling in love with a girl, and realizing what that implied, hurt me almost as intensely as if someone around me had died. All of the sudden my life was in havoc; the foundation of my being had been pulled out from underneath me. To be completely honest, I was so detached from reality at the time of realizing my interest in her, that I didn’t even know one other gay person. All I knew was what I had been told in the church: that homosexuality was a perversion of God’s law, Natural law, and against every image and belief I had worked to maintain. But my sexuality had been asleep prior to meeting her -- I knew, somehow, this was the real thing. For the first time, I felt alive... but I also felt incredibly scared, ashamed, and depressed. Out of fear that the church would start poking and prodding its little head into my business, as it had done with the couples who were engaging in pre-martial sex, I ripped myself from ministry. All of them. I lost a huge part of me in leaving the church.
And this is where me and the writer of the case diverge. He realized that he didn’t want the heterosexual guys he thought he was attracted to, but rather he wanted to be them. I’ve actually read his position in many “Ex-Gay” sort of stories: “Maybe you’re not really gay, maybe you just admire your same-sex friend.” I am really gay, and I don’t like this assumption. I really loved and cared for my friend, to the point where I wanted to be her boyfriend (a story for another day). I gave up everything I had ever believed in pursuit of her. My interest in her challenged my beliefs and threw me into a three year search for “what the Bible ‘really’ says about homosexuality” (a quest with inconclusive ends) and a couple solid years of self-hate. My “good girl” image was stripped from me. Grades plummeted, scars magically started appearing on my upper arm and thighs, and the reason “why” was a secret buried deep inside me, locked away some place tight. I spent two years in denial of Who I Am. I spent two years hating myself that I will never get back.
I admire the position that the author of the Case holds. To some extent, I think it is noble of him (for lack of better words) to put his faith first, and to find a single and celibate life his calling. That cannot be my life, though. I find too much beauty and strength in myself for the things I have had to challenge and the oppression I had to work my way out from being under. I refuse to live my life in fear any longer. I am a queer person, and I undeniably like women. I am done beating myself up over this fact. The Bible can be interpreted to prove whatever the reader would like for it to, and I am fine if they want to interpret the book to condemn my choice of lifestyle. I love me, and I love the people around me, and I would take the Me that is living now, over that old, judgmental Me of the past ANY day. This is where I place my identity, not as a queer person, but as someone inspired by (and hyper aware of) true beauty and strength.
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