Tristan

[vaneramos]

Last month, the day I visited London, I was walking through a mall when I saw a familiar, puckish face coming the other way. My brain quickly sifted through memories.

"Tristan!" I exclaimed, as he approached me.

I met Tristan in 1992 in an ex-gay support group. The organization, based in Toronto, was called New Direction for Life and fell under the umbrella of Exodus International, a Christian organization that teaches homosexuals can convert to heterosexuality through Christian community and relationship with God. I had learned of Exodus in about 1989 and began attending support group meetings in 1992, shortly after the birth of my first daughter.

Tristan's participation was relatively unsuccessful during the first year that I knew him. The support group met every two weeks. Nearly every meeting he would confess to more anonymous sexual encounters in public bathrooms.

After a year in the support group, participants might graduate to "growth groups" which met at New Direction's downtown Toronto headquarters. These required a higher level of commitment, with evidence of a reformed lifestyle. I had not had a sexual experience with a man in many years and was invited to progress in 1993. Tristan was not. I did not see him for years after that, although I heard he continued to attend support group meetings.

The next time I saw him was about seven years later. Many things had changed. My involvement in New Direction eventually contributed to a serious emotional breakdown. In 1995 I was diagnosed with clinical depression and was unable to work. One of the first steps in my treatment was learning to accept my sexual orientation. My marriage of five years ended in January 1996.

I subsequently came out of the closet. I have never had misgivings about this choice.

Several years later while attending Gay Pride in Toronto, I passed Tristan on the steps of Woody's Bar. He was hanging out with two woman friends, smiling puckishly as ever. We were happy to see each other, and congratulated one another on surviving New Direction and the guilt and self-hatred associated with the ex-gay movement.

We didn't stay in touch, though, so I was delighted to see him in the mall in London several weeks ago.

Tristan, however, didn't recognize me at first, and asked me to jog his memory. I reminded him of the ex-gay movement, and his face lit for a moment with familiarity.

"How are you doing?" I asked.

"Oh, very well," he replied quickly. "I started attending Church of the Redeemer last year."

I nodded attentively.

"And I've been leading a clean and good life since January 17," he declared.

Just then something happened to my eyes. Perhaps there were too many people moving around us and I got dizzy for a moment. I had an undeniable urge to roll my eyes, and was unable to prevent myself. Otherwise I maintained an outward demeanour of calm, and kept my voice level.

Unfortunately I made an awkward segwe, "Well, I'm just in town visiting friends for the day."

It was a lie. I have no friends to speak of in London. Why I felt such a compulsion to lie unnecessarily, I have no idea.

"And I must be on my way," said Tristan. "Before I go to work I have to drop off this dress I made for a friend."

We said goodbye, then turned to go our separate ways.

Leaving the mall, I felt a wave of sadness.

January 17!

Tristan is perhaps three years older than me. Burdened with guilt, he has continued to live his life in a recurring sequence of furtive, unsatisfying sexual encounters. He continues to buy into the belief that his orientation is the problem. His internalized homophobia, aided and abetted by conservative Christian doctrine and the ex-gay ministry, will prevent him from ever experiencing genuine intimacy. He will continue to believe that his emptiness is a result of sin, rather than prejudice and ignorance.

My life is not a model of mental health or social stability. I have not had a relationship that lasted longer than 15 months. But I respect myself, I take joy in my friendships, and at this point in time I have a very fine boyfriend, who I can see myself loving for a very long time. I am happier than I have ever been.

I met Tristan 12 years ago and he hasn't changed a bit. He looks a little older, with a glaze of weariness behind the puckish grin.

_________________________________


This portrait was inspired by a discussion with classics_cat and oursin. I have changed Tristan's name and facts of his identity to protect the innocent.

Comments

[dakoopst.livejournal.com]

This really brings tears to my eyes.

It's amazing what depths the ex-gay movement can bring people to -- amazing what pain it can cause, and amazing how much that pain is self-inflicted.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I still find it hard to believe what I put myself through. Our capacity for self-deception is outrageous.

I am a bit behind on LJ; hope all's well with you, sweetie.

[apel.livejournal.com]

What a sad, sad story. Internalised homophobia is such a killer. Kills joy, kills love, kills people.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I met some fine people in those support groups. I hope some have sorted out their confusion.

[oursin.livejournal.com]

That's very sad. But I'm so glad to hear that you managed to escape that mindset.

[token-otter.livejournal.com]

Wow I had no idea that you had went through such an experience in the ex-gay movement (I guess it never came up at Sunday supper somehow :)) While I do despise the idea that these people seek to change how people behave like it were as easy as changing one's underwear, it almost harkens back to the converting of aboriginals with residential schools, an almost process of humans to change humans into something they are not. I have to admit that I am very proud of you right now for surviving as I'm sure that Tristan is still struggling through it. The power to love oneself is something we all have to find and I'm glad that you did.

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Thanks, Steven. I don't talk about that part of my life very much: marriage, Christianity, the ex-gay movement and so on. It's not worth dwelling on, although I would like to write something about the ex-gay movement someday, once I have enough distance not to be bitter about it, or let it get me down.

It is like the residential schools. As another example, closer to home, someone mentioned how 50s housewives were expected to conform to a social norm. Julianne Moore's character in The Hours gives an amazing portrayal of what happens to someone when they try to be something they are not. Her disappearance reminds me of my own coming out. I had to walk away, and cut myself off from, a lot of things. Even being a parent has its challenges, but that was something I wanted badly, so I held onto it despite considerable resistance to my involvement with my daughters.

[eloquentwthrage.livejournal.com]

Glad you're part of the ex-ex-gay movement...

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

Me too.

[ubermunkey.livejournal.com]

wow what a great entry. I am reminded of many of my talks with my church leader during my youth. we never gave it a specific title but it was all about ex-gay doctrination. I bought into it for years and didn't have the courage to change my life till I had created too many complications. Mine was not an easy process but I couldn't live like that any longer. I have been divorced now for about 2 years and seperated for over 4. It was and is a long harsh road but I am clearer and more happy now than I ever was living that lie.

As always your stories touch me, be well
ciao
connor

[vaneramos.livejournal.com]

I wish neither of us had to go through the self-abuse, but I'm glad to know you and be able to share the dad thing with you. Here's to the fine men in our lives, and to even brighter times ahead.