Drew Nixon, Author
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As a native of Tennessee, I am like many other Southerners in that I come from a very religious and socially/politically conservative family. I even have a twin brother who is a very bright, engaging, and amazing pastor at a large church. Like a lot of other adults finally coming into their own, I have adopted the “Don’t Ask, Don’t Tell” policy concerning religion and politics to keep the peace with my family. It worked for me. I was okay with it. I realized that my family’s religious beliefs have always and would always influence every decision they made. I was actually very proud of that fact for a long time, even envious. My family stood for what they believed in. They were moral, honest, upstanding people who had a strong faith that allowed them to withstand any opponent. I didn’t share all of the same beliefs as they did, but it didn’t bother me. They still loved me, despite my beliefs. They wanted me to be happy. It was always enough for me, but lately it’s not enough anymore. I find myself wanting more and more to repeal my own DADT policy. I realized (as Obama thankfully realized with his own repeal of DADT) that not being open and honest about who I am and what I believe in is not a healthy way to live.
I am speaking more about being open about my feelings on homosexuality today and the rights we have still yet to be granted instead of about me coming out. That happened years ago. It was met with grief, sadness, and very little shock (14-year-old Judy Garland fanatic…oops). My father actually told me that he grieved for me when he found out. Finding out that I was gay was like a death in the family for him. In my father’s defense, he wasn’t 
saying that I was dead to him, he was simply saying that this potential life he had envisioned for me was now gone and he had no idea what could lie ahead because he simply was ignorant to “the homosexual lifestyle.” Soon however, those feelings dissipated and life went on. I have the occasional moment when my parents will make a comment that my overly-sensitive brain will immediately jump on the defense about, but for the most part, there is no issue. My sister-in-law, the pastor’s wife, consistently asks about my dating life. My parents occasionally ask if I have a “friend.” My twin brother uses what bonds us most, our sense of humor, to stay connected to that part of my life. It’s a functional family relationship. So, why do I feel this way? Why do I want to jeopardize it? Why now? Is it that I have been out and proud for years now and finally feel like I am getting a grip on who I am as a gay adult? Is it because the political season is upon us and gay civil rights have never been more in the forefront than at this moment in time? I don’t know. I’d have to say that it is mixture of both. Before moving to Chicago, I never really knew where I fit in. I was always the token gay in a room full of straight people. I stuck out. I couldn’t connect with many people on a true level of understanding. When I finally got to the city, it just clicked for me. I still don’t know EXACTLY where I belong, but I am a hell of a lot closer. I am in a community. I am not the lone wolf. Though, as I welcome this new identity, I am also faced with trying to meld that identity with the identity I had developed with my family. I truly don’t know how.
As gay civil rights are now being more widely discussed, I find myself thinking about that seemingly impossible task even more. I will often spend hours online reading article after article about a gay couple being discriminated against at a restaurant or how certain political candidates feel that gay marriage will ruin the sanctity of marriage (I have 14 million reasons as to why that’s the most asinine statement I have ever heard). It enrages me. It appalls me. But most of all, it hurts me. And not just because I feel empathy for all the other men and women who fight everyday for equality, but because I feel like my family would fight against it. I need to stress here that my family are some of the most loving, beautiful, supportive, wonderful people that have ever walked the Earth. They are truly the best people I know. However, their strong love for Jesus Christ stands in the way of the strong love I want them to have for me. That sounds like the most selfish statement ever written, let me explain…my family loves me more than words can say. Any one of them would readily give me a loan, a kidney, or even their life. But ultimately, they believe they were put on this Earth to honor Christ and the teachings of the Bible. Because they feel the Bible states that homosexuality is not God’s plan for us, this puts their love for me in an awkward position. My brother said something so honest and open to me a couple of years ago, that it is truly one of my favorite things he has ever said. In a conversation we were having about gay marriage, he stated that because America claims to treat everyone fairly and equally, it is absolutely not fair for America to deny gay people the same rights as everyone else. However, he went on to say, when he goes to vote, he is not voting for what’s fair, he is voting for what he believes God wants for everyone. He is not voting to spite me, he is voting to honor God. How can I fault him for that? God is his creator. God is the being that he believes he must spend his life serving. Who am I to put myself before his God? I can’t. I would never ask him to do that, but selfishly and truthfully I want that. I hate that I can’t resolve in myself to just accept them for their beliefs when that’s exactly what they have done for me, no matter how difficult it has been for them.
My father forwards these right-wing, Obama-is-a-dumb-ass emails constantly to the entire family. I have asked him to stop in the past, but I think he enjoys ribbing me about it. I used to either read them and laugh about how ridiculous they were or immediately delete them upon delivery. Lately though, it has gotten to the point that I don’t want my dad to continue reminding me of our strong differences. Admittedly, I do not know much about politics outside of gay civil rights. I hate how ugly and corrupt it gets, so I have really only paid attention to the topic that is most important to me. So when my father sends an email with any political statement, whether it be about taxes, jobs, or immigration, I immediately relate it to my feelings on gay civil rights issues. I replied to one political email and tried to relay that feeling. I wrote that it is not just bigoted candidates that I have to fight politically, but also the votes of my own family. To him, politics is something he can joke about because ultimately his civil rights are protected. To me, my very right to be able to marry the person I love is in jeopardy. To be fair, I have never directly asked each family member how they would vote on gay rights issues, and that is mainly because I am too afraid of what their answer might be.
So I ask, how do you maintain a healthy, loving relationship with your family when tolerance is no longer enough?
