Winter 1985

So much of my life, until then, had revolved around Evangelical Christianity and suddenly it was all gone, leaving an empty void of time and friendships. All of my social life had gone, over ninety percent of the people who called me friend had disowned me, I was on my own and I was nineteen years old. What was I to do?

I wasn’t thrown out of that church’s congregation, no one spoke the words and told me to leave, but they expressly made it clear I wasn’t welcome because I was homosexual. I had been outed to the church’s youth fellowship. They reacted by first trying to cast daemons out of me, one Sunday night, before disowning me. Suddenly, all the people who had called me their friend, turned their backs on me and would have nothing to do with me. It was terrifying. Being subjected to an exorcism, just because I was gay, by people who had said they cared about me, left me feeling confused and betrayed. I had turned to these people for help, I was so confused and afraid of my sexuality, and they had reacted as if I was possessed by the Devil himself. The disowning by the majority of my friends hurt the most. They rejected me solely because I’m gay.

I was hit over the head by their message, I wasn’t welcome in that church anymore. Reluctantly I left. Reluctantly because I had believed that being a member of that church was the right thing for me, where God wanted me to be, and leaving that church meant I had got that all wrong. But for my own health and sanity, I had to leave.

The people of that church had told me that Evangelical Christians, like them, were the only people who would care for me and accept me. Non-Christians, they said, would just use me and then cast me aside. I believed them because I had thought they were my friends and that they cared for me. I was wrong.

To my surprise, and then relief, I found people who weren’t Evangelical Christians not only welcomed me but also accepted me. Though it took so much strength to push myself forward to find a new life. Having all of my old life taken away from me was so hard and very isolating. Suddenly my whole social life and most of my circle of friends were gone, I had to start to rebuild all that and all over again. I was also so depressed by what had happened to me, had it all been my fault, why had I been so harshly rejected? I was beginning to accept my sexuality, finally admitting I couldn’t force it away, and then I was severely rejected for doing so. That took so much out of me.

But I didn’t know how to rebuild my life again. I was only nineteen and no one gave me a guide book how to do so, there was no internet then. I found my first entry into a new life in a newsagent, near to Liverpool’s Anglican Cathedral. On the top shelf, above the rows of magazines and newspapers, were the usual collection of porn magazines, and at the end of them were two gay lifestyle magazines, Gay Times and Gay Life. It was the 1980s and any gay lifestyle magazines were considered “adult reading”. Nervously I bought both those magazines, as I paid for them, the man behind the counter told me that Gay Life was a good read. He was right.

Gay Life was a Manchester based magazine but it also contained listings and details of Liverpool’s small gay scene, where I lived. In its Community Listings section there was a listing for the LGCM (Lesbian and Gay Christian Movement) Liverpool group. Nervously I contacted its convenor, Billy, and started to attend their meetings. I was still a Christian and this seemed the logical place to finally start coming out. I had tried the Evangelical Christian approach, the ex-gay gospel and to deny a large part of who I was, and that had failed completely. Maybe it was time to try and accept my sexuality? Did I have any other alternative?

The guys at the LGCM group were warm and welcoming, not a single “predatory homosexual”, as per the Evangelical Christian stereotype I had been previously been repeatedly told. These were men who befriended me, without trying to force their opinions and beliefs onto me. There was no condition to their friendship. It was a wonderful breath of fresh air.

I also started to attend a writers’ workshop in Liverpool, The Old Swan Writers. I wanted to be a writer, therefore I needed to get serious about being one, but I knew so little about it. The other writers there taught me so much, showed me were my writing worked and were it didn’t. It was through them that I learnt how and where to submit my writing, and I had my first pieces of writing published while I was a member there. I was also the youngest member by a long stretch. The other were middle-aged or older, but none of them seemed to have any problems with me or my writing, which was beginning to explore gay themes.

Next I started to attend Liverpool’s gay youth group, on the recommendation of one of the members of the LGCM group. At this group I met Tommy & Ashley, a pair of bright and lively friends, who quickly took me under their wing. They took me out clubbing in the few gay clubs there were in Liverpool. They introduced me to gay club life, taking away the mystery and apprehension too. And they were friends so there was no pressure, and that was what I needed then. The chance, every week or so, to dance and enjoy myself without any pressure.

Lastly, I joined the Merseyside AIDS Support Group (MASG). This was 1985/86 and the AIDS panic was running high. Daily I saw the prejudice, ignorance and sheer homophobia around AIDS and it sickened me. This was my way of trying to fight that, so I joined MASG’s training course for their helpline. That training taught me so much, not just about HIV and AIDS, but it helped me look at myself. I also met some amazing people through it. Two nurses, a teacher, a HIV worker, gay men and women, a bisexual man, and straights. Different people but for all of them, being gay wasn’t a problem. I also met a man who I quietly looked up to, John Sam Jones. He’d been an Anglican minister, lived and worked in San Francisco, and was now back in Liverpool, working in HIV prevention. All through this he’d remained a Christian, and that was something I was trying to do but finding it such an uphill struggle.

I make this narrative sound so easy, I took step one, which led to step two and then steps three and four. But it wasn’t that easy. I was silently carrying the baggage from the True Freedom Trust (TFT) and that Evangelical church. Most of the LGBT people I met in Liverpool, especially those I met through the LGCM group, knew of TFT and despised them. Rightly, they saw TFT as a dangerous and deeply homophobic organisation that only harmed LGBT people. Wrongly, I thought they would be angry at me too, for being involved with them. So I kept silent about that part of my past. I wish I hadn’t because I now know those people won’t have rejected me, they would have supported me. But the experience of being rejected by that Evangelical church was still sharp in my memory and I didn’t want to risk it happening again.

I also found making friends difficult and scary. The people at that Evangelical church had told me that they were my friends, better friends than any non-Christians would be, and yet they so quickly withdrew their friendship when they found out I was gay. Would that happen again? Again and again I met people, after leaving that church, who openly accepted me, but that fear wouldn’t go away. It nagged away at the back of my mind. During this time in Liverpool, I never had a boyfriend, I never even tried to find one, I stayed single and celibate. This wasn’t out of any religious belief but it was out of fear. Fear that I couldn’t get close to anyone, fear that my parents would find out I’m gay, I was living with them at the time and I didn’t know if I could hide a relationship from them, and resting at the back of my mind, was the fear that those Evangelical Christians were right and I would go to hell for being gay. It was completely irrational but I couldn’t shake it.

I had the realisation, slow at first but soon gathering speed, that the people at that Evangelical church had been lying to me. At first I noticed small lies but as time passed, I noticed bigger and nastier lies. The people at that Evangelical church told me I would never find “truer” friends than them, but those people rapidly withdrew their friendships when they found out I was gay. Their friendships were ultimately so shallow. Outside of that church, I found real friendships, people who didn’t reject me just because of my sexuality.

Being a member of MASG, I learnt so much that also opened my eyes. AIDS wasn’t the “judgement of God”, as I’d been repeatedly told at that Evangelical church. The evidence didn’t support all the homophobic lies I’d been told about it. It wasn’t caught via casual physical contact, though people at that Evangelical church had behaved as if it was, even though no one with AIDS had dared to cross its doorstep.

Then I met Nicholas & Robin, again. Nicholas had been the organist at that Evangelical church, until it was discovered Robin was his partner. Nicholas & Robin were rapidly and coldly thrown out of the church. I’d watched what had happened silently from the side-lines, terrified that that would be my fate. I was told Nicholas was not a Christian, he was only a member of the church for its social life, so it was right to throw him out of there, for being gay, because he wasn’t really a Christian. Then I met Nicholas & Robin, again. They were both Christians and very involved with a different church. I had been lied to, and to justify a very homophobic act. It left a very sour taste in my mouth.

That Evangelical church had told me that the “homosexual lifestyle” was a lonely, cold and sterile life, and I’d only find true friendships and happiness as an Evangelical Christian. But as one, my life was cold, empty and lonely. I was so unhappy, having to hide my sexuality and struggle silently trying to accept it. Only leaving that Evangelical church, saw me start to turn my life around, trying to turn away from a cold and empty existence.

My story doesn’t have a Hollywood ending, I didn’t walk away from that Evangelical church and straight into a much better life. It was a struggle and hard work to rebuild my life, especially as I was still haunted by what that Evangelical church said and did to me, causing me to be far from open with other people. I also had to come to terms with all the lies that that church told me, and how I foolishly believed them. It was a hard struggle, finding a new and honest life outside that church, but I am so glad I did. The alternative would have been unliveable.

Drew

Postscript: I have used the names these groups used back then in 1985/6. Groups called themselves “gay”, rather than Lesbian & Gay or LGBTQ+.

In 1995, Merseyside AIDS Support Group (MASG) and Mersey Body Positive (MBP) merged to form Sahir House

In 2017, LGCM changed its name to One Body One Faith, with a change in its focus.