Imagine being the daughter of a pastor, from a very strict Christian household, and the praise and worship leader for your church, while secretly being gay. The fear of this inner truth getting out is enough to keep many people with similar circumstances in the closet. Unfortunately, for a very long time, I was one of those people. It wasn’t uncommon for me to hear church folks referencing scriptures about abominations. Or listen to preachers speak about homosexual spirits jumping on individuals. I was fearful of saying anything about my internal secret, so when I was alone, I would plead with God for the “spirit” that must have somehow jumped on me, to go away.
The older I became, the more impossible it was to hide the truth of who I was. I found myself dating men as a cover-up, and then made up various reasons to break up with them once I realized things were getting too serious. It was a vicious cycle. I began hating myself for not being able to be freed from this “thing” that was going to keep me out of entering the gates of heaven.
After many late nights and early mornings, some serious soul searching, and long conversations with God, I realized his love for me never wavered. Despite my sexual orientation and the things, people tried to force me to believe, the creator knew who and what I was long before I took my very first breath. It took me many years to unlearn the toxic religious rhetoric that kept me in bondage for the majority of my life. Age-old rhetoric passed down from previous generations that are incredibly toxic within the Black community.