Rules of the Game

The rules of staying safe are really quite simple; do not let yourself be caught. Never let anyone know that you might be the slightest bit different, the tiniest bit extraordinary. Do not let them see the constellations hidden in your gaze. When it seems that your whole world is singing one plain melody, do not give into the urge to turn the other way and sing in your own key. Do not ever signal that maybe you think differently, it doesn’t matter if you are betraying yourself. It matters if you are alive. Give in to the current, swim along with them, leaving the school means drowning.

When your mother says that women must dress conservatively and that “You really must ignore those images on the magazines, that much makeup is just temptation, pure and simple,” you must nod with her and scowl at the image, even though you’re only 4 and don’t really understand what she means.

When at 8 you hear boys at school refer to each other as “fags” during soccer games you must associate that word with bad, and when you ask your father what it means and he goes into a lecture about sodomy and sin and how “No baby girl of mine is gonna be saying curse words,” you must dutifully nod and not complain too loudly as he washes your mouth out with soap; after all, it’s what God wants. And later that week during Sunday School, when your leader sits everyone down and explains to them that some people pretend that they are attracted to people of the same gender but that this isn’t okay, and saying that is giving in to a life of sin, you must decide to never look at a girl as someone you like like even though you know deep inside that the preacher’s daughter Sarah is really cute, and you might like to get to know her a bit better.

And when you turn 12 and gossip starts circulating about who likes who, and the hot topic at slumber parties is “who do you have a crush on,” you must make certain not to tell the truth, to play your hand carefully, keep a poker face and say you don’t have a crush or agree with the supposed “hottest guy” in the school. Do not say what you truly feel, do not let them know the self-hatred that is starting to bubble up inside, do not let them know that sometimes you imagine walking down the road hand in hand with your girlfriend and that that image just feels right.

And do not let that self-hatred start to brew and fester. Why would it? You don’t actually feel that way, it’s just a phase, fleeting like those of the moon and always changing. Don’t you like John? He’s very attractive, maybe you should date him for a while, but no, don’t be silly, that’s sinful, too! And when some nights you lie there trying to picture your future, do not become overwhelmed by the enormity of the choice ahead of you. Do not think about how either choice you make will end you, do not think about how both choices will cost you your identity. Quiet that cacophonous train of thought, it will only lead to more pain, so just ignore it, it isn't there, it doesn't exist. You are fine. Tell yourself this until it is true.

And when you are 16 and your Social Studies teacher brings up LGBTQ rights, do not tell them that you feel that that label fits you. Tell them that you think the government must protect your religious rights and your parents' rights and try to hide the hatred that grows and mutates with every poisoned word falling from your lips. And later that night when you hit your breaking point, your nadir, after 16 years of only falling for girls and after 16 years of being told that it is unnatural, do not confide in your best friend about how you feel, and do not allow tears to run down your cheeks as she tells you that it’s just a phase and that she’ll be praying for you and that maybe you should go talk to the priest, he’ll be able to help you through it. Do not go home and decide that you will do it, that you’ll finally come out of the closet. Do not decide to fling yourself out into the open, leaving yourself as vulnerable as a newborn completely at the mercy and forgiveness of your parents and their loving, gracious God.

Although I suppose that’s just a suggestion. I fell into the traps created by my mind, and I suppose you should have that right, as well. But I will insist that you follow this snippet of the rule; do not let them know. When you are called down for supper, do not leave your tabs open on the messages between you and your mentor, do not forget to clear your history filled with the trail of your sins. But if you do, then you have a choice to make, I suppose. Both paths are uncertain, dark woods blocking out the sun, you do not know which one will lead you to life and which will lead to death. Perhaps there are other forks hidden far away with more decisions that will change the story, but perhaps not.

Certainly, you will sit on the couch with your parents yelling at you, with your brothers sitting uncomfortable off to the side, and they will certainly strike you. And it is certain that you will cry, and it’s certain they will pray. But now is your time, the ball is in your court, it’s your choice to make. Remain uncomfortable, but keep your identity, or grow into yourself, but lose everything. I may be ahead of you on this path, but darling, I wonder if I’ll ever know if I applied the rule correctly here.