For a long time, I was confused by the condemnation of the "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" policy adopted by Bill Clinton's administration regarding sexual orientation in the army. Since then, however, I've had the chance to see this policy in its philosophical form among many conservative circles, who assert that if you're gay, it's fine to politely request that you keep your sexual orientation and related activities private.
Concerning the policy itself, some make the argument that gay men are unfit to be in the army because of how close men have to live while on duty. List of things wrong with this argument:
- Men, contrary to popular myth, don't think about sex all the time (Source)
- Being attracted to men or to women is NOT the same as being attracted to all men or all women
- Exercising sexual restraint is a reasonable and normal part of life
- Consenting adults deserve as little interference from the government as possible
But of course, the army policy in question has been revoked. Yes, and that is a good thing. But the philosophy of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" is still far too common in US culture. The way it works out in practice is everyone is allowed to assume that everyone is heterosexual, despite 5-15% of all Americans belonging to a sexual minority.
From my experience in conservative Christian circles, gay people are viewed as victims of liberal culture war, in need of the saving grace of fundamentalist doctrine. They even go so far to say that gay people being given the hope of normal lives is tearing apart civilization, as is explicit in the tearful ramblings of blogger Matt Walsh.
In Christian fundamentalism, the need to have every answer is programmed into what it means to be a fundamentalist. The Bible is seen as inerrant and complete, therefore all answers to all moral questions should be derived directly from the Bible regardless of the context provided by historical progress. (And no, the desperate evidence-sifting of groups like Answers in Genesis is not an exception to this rule.) Doubt in the prescribed dogma is equated with weakness, a lack of faith in God, or a need to be counselled until the correct beliefs are reprogrammed into the doubter.
This sounds like a bleak view, but believe me, I'm not trying to sound unnecessarily negative. The vast majority of conservative Christians are very nice people who want to do good. They're not trying to spread hate or bigotry, but their worldview operates in a way that blinds them to its shortcomings.
I know this because that was exactly the way I thought until a few years ago. Yes, I had doubts, but I ignored them. It was not good to have doubts; it was good to believe, and to endlessly profess said belief (to the great pleasure of my elders). There were two ways to react to fundamentalism: uncompromising acceptance, or complete rejection. Some churches manage to evolve beyond this dichotomy, but my experience was that you either embraced this iteration of Christianity completely, or you left. No hearty debate, no honest disagreements, no mature dissent.
This isn't how it's always been. A handful of Christian priests actually performed something akin to gay wedding ceremonies in the 1800s. The narrative we've been given is that all the advances for gay rights have occurred in the last 60 years. Everything before that was horrific oppression or moral bliss (depending on who you ask).
It is true that some men were put to death for sodomy, but because no one was defined as gay or straight, most gay people were able to find a way to live between the lines, as it were. The idea that the perverse modern era has created the crisis of homosexual activism is both tone deaf and factually wrong. If anything, gay rights has improved the morality of America, since it has no bearing on the straight 95% and it gives the other 5% a strong marital context in which to live their romantic lives. (I would also argue that increasing awareness of sexual practices is a symptom of the information era more than it is a symptom of a change in sexual practices, but that is a subject for another time.)
From my experience in conservative Christian circles, gay people are viewed as victims of liberal culture war, in need of the saving grace of fundamentalist doctrine. They even go so far to say that gay people being given the hope of normal lives is tearing apart civilization, as is explicit in the tearful ramblings of blogger Matt Walsh.
In Christian fundamentalism, the need to have every answer is programmed into what it means to be a fundamentalist. The Bible is seen as inerrant and complete, therefore all answers to all moral questions should be derived directly from the Bible regardless of the context provided by historical progress. (And no, the desperate evidence-sifting of groups like Answers in Genesis is not an exception to this rule.) Doubt in the prescribed dogma is equated with weakness, a lack of faith in God, or a need to be counselled until the correct beliefs are reprogrammed into the doubter.
This sounds like a bleak view, but believe me, I'm not trying to sound unnecessarily negative. The vast majority of conservative Christians are very nice people who want to do good. They're not trying to spread hate or bigotry, but their worldview operates in a way that blinds them to its shortcomings.
I know this because that was exactly the way I thought until a few years ago. Yes, I had doubts, but I ignored them. It was not good to have doubts; it was good to believe, and to endlessly profess said belief (to the great pleasure of my elders). There were two ways to react to fundamentalism: uncompromising acceptance, or complete rejection. Some churches manage to evolve beyond this dichotomy, but my experience was that you either embraced this iteration of Christianity completely, or you left. No hearty debate, no honest disagreements, no mature dissent.
This isn't how it's always been. A handful of Christian priests actually performed something akin to gay wedding ceremonies in the 1800s. The narrative we've been given is that all the advances for gay rights have occurred in the last 60 years. Everything before that was horrific oppression or moral bliss (depending on who you ask).
It is true that some men were put to death for sodomy, but because no one was defined as gay or straight, most gay people were able to find a way to live between the lines, as it were. The idea that the perverse modern era has created the crisis of homosexual activism is both tone deaf and factually wrong. If anything, gay rights has improved the morality of America, since it has no bearing on the straight 95% and it gives the other 5% a strong marital context in which to live their romantic lives. (I would also argue that increasing awareness of sexual practices is a symptom of the information era more than it is a symptom of a change in sexual practices, but that is a subject for another time.)
Men and women aren't becoming gay after exposure to the idea of gay rights any more than children are becoming autistic after receiving life-saving vaccines. To think otherwise is not a small victory against the powerful government/culture/corporations/whatever, but a self-serving effort to preserve one's worldview and the need to be right.
It was only a matter of time before I got a close-up look at how fundamentalism handled a suspected homosexual. I met with my pastor who had heard some gossip through the grapevine and wanted to give me the works. Being told I had some undesirable effeminate mannerisms (which even in my early twenties, I was clueless about) was offensive enough to me, but being told homosexuality was the "ultimate rebellion against God," was the defining moment in how I perceived conservative Christianity.
Here was a pastor, on the whole an upstanding and godly person, who had deceived himself so fully that he thought that a) what he said was true, and b) I needed to believe the exact same thing to be a Christian. He asked me if I had felt or done anything gay. Of course, I lied my ass off: there was no way I was telling a pastor before I told my parents.
I wish I could say that I understood all this immediately, and that I left that church right away. But it took me almost a year before I fully felt the oppression of that scene. When it came to a head, I could have exited in fiery glory. I could have stayed on, and simply ignored my sexuality. I took a middle path. I barely remember my last day at that church, because there was no regret and no controversy. I just left.
I couldn't admit the full scope of my hopes and dreams without being banished from the church until I repented. I couldn't stay in the stifling silence of a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" atmosphere. A part of who I was was constantly in conflict with the strong opinions of everyone around me, as polite as they were to me.
It was only a matter of time before I got a close-up look at how fundamentalism handled a suspected homosexual. I met with my pastor who had heard some gossip through the grapevine and wanted to give me the works. Being told I had some undesirable effeminate mannerisms (which even in my early twenties, I was clueless about) was offensive enough to me, but being told homosexuality was the "ultimate rebellion against God," was the defining moment in how I perceived conservative Christianity.
Here was a pastor, on the whole an upstanding and godly person, who had deceived himself so fully that he thought that a) what he said was true, and b) I needed to believe the exact same thing to be a Christian. He asked me if I had felt or done anything gay. Of course, I lied my ass off: there was no way I was telling a pastor before I told my parents.
I wish I could say that I understood all this immediately, and that I left that church right away. But it took me almost a year before I fully felt the oppression of that scene. When it came to a head, I could have exited in fiery glory. I could have stayed on, and simply ignored my sexuality. I took a middle path. I barely remember my last day at that church, because there was no regret and no controversy. I just left.
I couldn't admit the full scope of my hopes and dreams without being banished from the church until I repented. I couldn't stay in the stifling silence of a "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" atmosphere. A part of who I was was constantly in conflict with the strong opinions of everyone around me, as polite as they were to me.
The philosophy of "Don't Ask, Don't Tell" forces sexual minorities to participate in their own oppression (Source), as I experienced at that church. We are persuaded to self-censor, lest we be accused of "flaunting" our sexuality and lifestyle choices. The irony is that heterosexuals flaunt their own sexuality without thinking about it. It's completely accepted to mention your spouse or children in conversation, or recommend your favorite romantic comedy to a friend. But if you find yourself on the wrong side of the fence of heteronormativity, you are expected to keep your anecdotes of affection to yourself.
When people ask me what I'm up to, I find myself censoring my response to omit mentions of dates or the gender of my dates. This is partially my own fault, but the culture we live in puts immense pressure on the minority to behave according to the majority's will. And when this self-censoring makes us feel bad, we are told that it is our innate shame at our sexuality that causes this, not the oppression of heteronormativity.
When people ask me what I'm up to, I find myself censoring my response to omit mentions of dates or the gender of my dates. This is partially my own fault, but the culture we live in puts immense pressure on the minority to behave according to the majority's will. And when this self-censoring makes us feel bad, we are told that it is our innate shame at our sexuality that causes this, not the oppression of heteronormativity.
Is this the worst form of oppression? Of course not. No one is actively being lynched or sold into slavery. It's negative social pressure as much as it is oppression. But it's pointless, hurtful, and infuriating. The social system of treating gay people like a subject unfit for polite conversation propagates mistreatment of innocent human beings, whether through social abuse, physical violence, or economic hardship. Treating gay people differently doesn't speak to your compassion, your love for God, or your desire to improve society. Such behavior is immature, psychologically damaging, and selfish.
Look back at that Matt Walsh article. He declares he is being hurt by gay marriage, because it (somehow) dismantles the foundation of civilization. What a self-absorbed worldview. The old chestnut that the Roman Empire fell because of homosexuality and moral decline is almost laughably false. It is equally factual to say that the Roman Empire fell because it converted to Christianity - which is to say, not at all true.
Nevertheless, I am lucky. I never had to face the blatant, hurtful discrimination others have. But despite this, it made me feel strange when people who knew about my sexuality took careful steps to avoid the subject. I can handle their marginalization, but I refuse to participate it. I don't expect special treatment, for better or for worse. My fallible opinions deserve to be heard, just like anyone's.
You might not ask, but I reserve the right to tell if I want to.
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