The Experts Have Spoken: I’m Definitely Not Gay
My Journey from Homophobia
I’m TikTok famous. This is not the same as being a famous TikTok influencer. I am definitely not that and have no ambition to become one.
What I mean when I say TikTok famous is that there’s a video out there that’s gone viral. I’m in it. I’m the star.
And it was all an accident.
I mentioned in a previous article that I went to a Music Festival with a lineup of various artists. On Saturday, one of the artists in the lineup was Fletcher. I was not there to see Fletcher. I was there with my wife and kids to see Billie Eilish. Eilish is huge these days. She’s not quite of the Taylor Swift caliber, but she’s close. We wanted to get a good view of the concert, so we arrived a couple of concerts early and claimed our real estate before the Billie Eilish crowd arrived.
I had never heard of Fletcher and knew nothing of her. Turns out she’s gay. (After a bit of research it sounds like there’s more nuance to it than that, but for the purposes of this story, the details don’t matter.) She has a large gay following. Had I known this before the show I might have been more prepared for the environment.
But I was not prepared. Think of it this way… I don’t like to swim in the ocean. I prefer freshwater. You know; sharks and all. I thought I was diving into a nice, serene lake in Maine when in actuality I was diving into the waters off Cape Cod during peak seal migration season. Now, sharks aren’t the big baddies they’ve been made out to be in the movies and stuff. But still, I probably would be more careful on the beaches of Cape Cod had I realized that’s where I was.
Not long before the concert, I heard some asking at the quite loud and proud, “Are you gay?!” Each time they were answered with a “Yeah!” Over and over a woman just to my right was pointing her camera at people near her and asking them if they were gay. There was a lot of joy in the scene.
I, on the other hand, was terrified. That camera was coming in my direction, and I wasn’t sure how to handle myself. I tried not to make eye contact, to no avail.
Fortunately for me, when the woman taking the video pointed the lens of her camera phone at me she said something to the effect of, “You are definitely not gay!” I nodded and voiced my agreement with the camera. We all laughed, and I was absolutely sure it would end up on TikTok.
A few days ago, a friend from the Boston area saw the video, sent it to my son in San Diego to make sure it was me, and then my son sent it to me. I’m the butt of the joke for what will be over 2 million views by the time you read this. There were over 550 comments as of me writing this article - mostly about me and my awkwardness - and 117,900 “likes” of the video. It’s now Lindsay’s second most-watched video.
You’re welcome, Lindsay. I’ll waive my normal actor’s fee for you.
Watching my reaction in the video one might mistake my discomfort for homophobia. It wasn’t. But it reminded me of the day when somebody shined the light on homophobia, I had insisted I didn’t possess. These days I have gay friends I love dearly. This wasn’t always the case.
I started graduate school in 2003. It was a 2-week, summer correspondence program at an evangelical Christian university in California. One of my first classes was college student identity development. The professor had broken us up into groups of two and assigned each group different theories of identity development to present to the rest of the class. My partner and I had been assigned “gay identity development theory.” After stumbling through the presentation, I opened the floor to questions. One of my classmates asked me what I would do if I walked into the lounge of my dormitory and saw two male students kissing. His question was about how I’d handle the situation because I was a Resident Director on a conservative, evangelical college campus with single-sex dormitories. The reason they were single-sex was because we thought mixed housing was inappropriate. Same-sex relationships were considered an abomination. Given these circumstances the question from my classmate was fair.
The problem I had was that I didn’t know what I’d do in a situation like that. To avoid the question, I decided to cover up with a joke. In doing so, I ended up exposing my real feelings at the time. All these years later I don’t remember my exact words but to paraphrase, it was something like this:
“I’d puke.”
Most of the people in the room laughed at my comedic brilliance. I didn’t notice the girl in the corner who didn’t.
A couple of days later my cohort and I met for dinner at the home of a professor. It was a nice southern California evening, and we all had a good time getting to know each other. I’m sure I dominated the conversation like I’m prone to do. Interrupting our conversation, our professor announced that Kevin, a hobbyist cook from Alabama, had made a Key Lime Pie for us. Most of us got up from the table to go partake. I hung back a bit, and so did one of my classmates. Her name was Domenica. For 30 seconds or so we continued to chat and laugh about whatever it was we had been talking about before. Then, in a moment I’ll never forget and for which I will forever be grateful, Domenica changed the subject.
She’d been the girl not laughing at my little “I’d puke” joke. She mustered up the courage to tell me how what I’d said affected her.
“You know, I had decided never to talk to you unless I absolutely had to for classwork.”
“Why?” I asked, genuinely confused. I got along with most people and couldn’t fathom what I’d done to elicit such harsh feelings from her.
“You said some of my best friends make you physically ill.”
“I did?” I asked, still not sure what she was talking about.
“Yes. One of the last things I did before we came to school was to attend the wedding of two of my gay friends. You said their love makes you want to throw up.”
“I did?” I was still confused.
She didn’t reply. She just looked at me for a moment, letting her last comment simmer. Then it hit me.
“Oh. … I did.” I stopped for a second to consider my words. “Oh, man. I’m really sorry. That wasn’t what I said.”
“But it is what you said.”
“Well, no, yeah...I know. But it’s not what I meant to say.”
She tipped her head forward and looked me directly in the eyes. “But it’s what you said. Those were literally the first words out of your mouth when he asked the question.”
I searched for a way to backtrack on my comment in that class. I looked for a way to explain that saying two guys kissing made me vomit was not the same as saying her two friends made me physically ill. The more I thought about it, the worse it sounded. That’s exactly what I’d said. I looked up at her.
“That’s pretty much the epitome of homophobia.” She continued, peering directly into my soul.
For the first time in my life, I had to consider that I was homophobic. Before then I’d insisted, I wasn’t. Homophobes were afraid of gay people. I wasn’t afraid of gay people. I mean, really. Right?
Right?!?!
But the evidence was there, fresh in my memory. Fresh in the memories of everyone who was there.
When asked in a public setting how I’d react to two men kissing, I’d said…that. It didn’t even answer the actual question which was regarding how I’d handle a difficult situation at an institution with a strong stance against gay relationships of any kind.
I made a joke of it. I hurt someone as I did it. And I exposed my true colors.
My little joke wasn’t based on a well-thought-out biblical position. It was an ill-conceived quip devoid of any genuine theological foundation or any hint of an academic response by someone endeavoring to learn about college students. Instead, it festered with raw, unadulterated homophobia.
Just moments before I’d been spearheading the jovial conversation with my classmates. Now, I was at a loss for words. I began to notice the SoCal warmth seemed a tad more uncomfortable than it had before. My ears and temples felt hot. I felt the sweat moving into the pores on my forehead.
Domenica noticed my discomfort. With a cheerful voice intending to lighten my mood she said, “Hey, let’s go find Katya and grab some of Kevin’s Key Lime Pie!” This only made it worse for me.
"Katya...” I said out loud, closing my eyes and taking a deep breath. Katya was a colleague of Dominica’s. The two of them joined our program together. She in the class and heard my impromptu, ill-thought comedy routine.
“Ugh…did I upset Katya too?” I asked as we stood up.
“Yeah, but she’s a bit more even tempered than me. I react to this stuff worse than she does.” She paused a bit, got big-eyed and said, “Relaaaax!” I’m far less concerned now that I’ve gotten to know you a bit. Let’s chalk this one up to your first learning experience in grad school. Besides, you’d think I’d have done a bit more research on my school choice. I had no idea this was a conservative, Christian school.
“What?!?!” I asked, dumbfounded.
“Shut up. I don’t want to talk about it. We’re judging you right now.” We laughed, and the admission of her planning oversight in the midst of a major life decision helped lighten the air.
We found Katya, and I immediately apologized if what I said made her uncomfortable. “Oh, ah… thanks.” She stammered, somewhat surprised that I brought it up. She looked at Domenica.
“Yeah. I chewed him out.” She said as she gave me a slight shove and smile. “He’s cool.”
Katya narrowed her eyes in my direction, feigning self-righteous anger. “Do it again and I’ll kill you with my plastic pie fork.”
We laughed some more.
Our cohort enjoyed the rest of the evening together. We completed our two weeks of intensive classwork and returned to our various parts of the country to complete our coursework throughout the remainder of the year. For me, this meant a return to my small, evangelical Christian campus.
My homophobia didn’t simply vanish. There was nobody to challenge me on campus. On the contrary, I was back in an environment which condoned if not fostered homophobia. But Domenica’s words stayed with me.
“I was never going to speak to you again.”
Exploring my fresh understanding was a solitary endeavor. For the most part, it simply lingered in the back of my consciousness.
A couple of years later I was looking for a new role, something that would challenge me more than the evangelical college I'd settled at directly after graduating from as a student. (This is the positive spin on the job change. I’ve discussed the fuller truth before.)
While the Boston area might be considered the mecca of Higher Education, finding a new job proved to be difficult. In the end, I only managed to get one interview out of all my applications to different schools.
Emerson College.
I knew a little about Emerson College. It’s a communication arts school and boasts some famous alums. Henry Winkler, AKA “the Fonz” is likely their most celebrated graduate. Jay Leno was a student long enough to have a cup of coffee. Dennis Leary and Maria Menounos graduated from Emerson College. The list goes on.
I also knew the campus was a liberal environment where gay students were welcomed. This fact was celebrated in their recruitment materials.
Oddly enough, when I received a call for an interview, I knew it was going to work out. I needed an Emerson experience.
Everyone on the interview panel knew my history of working in an evangelical environment. After a few rounds of questions, someone asked me the question hanging in the air.
“Jeff, you’ll find the Emerson campus is a much different type of student body than where you’ve worked to this point. Do you think you’ll have any difficulty adjusting to this community?”
I smiled and paused for a moment. Then I began my answer.
"I believe in the power of growth and understanding. While my background may have been different, I've learned that diversity and inclusivity are values that transcend any specific environment. I'm eager to embrace the welcoming atmosphere here at Emerson College and to contribute to an inclusive community where every student feels valued and respected for who they are."
The panel sat and smiled politely, but they seemed unconvinced. In that moment, a few things occurred to me. First, I recognized that if Emerson was the type of campus I just described, they didn’t want the right answer.
They wanted an honest one.
Second, I thought it was safe to assume some members of the panel were same-sex attracted. Emerson would want to have a Student Affairs staff with advocates for LGBTQ+ students. I was looking at most of the Student Affairs leadership team.
So, it occurred to me that if ever there was someone who knew how to see through the “right” answer and know there was more to the story, they were sitting on that panel looking back at me through a forced smile. Telling people what they wanted to hear was something with which they had far more experience than I.
I was terrified of saying something hurtful. Still, I’d decided looking them in the eye and enduring discomfort as I told them who I really was might have been an exercise with which they could empathize. I chose my words carefully hoping to convey I wanted to grow.
With Domenica and her friends on my mind, I answered the question as bluntly and honestly as I knew how.
As I answered I looked at each of them.
I shifted my weight in my seat and took a more relaxed position. As the next person began to ask their next question, I interrupted them and continued.
“What I just said to you is the ‘right’ answer, I believe.” I used my hands to make air quotes. “It’s the textbook response, but it feels less than genuine.” I took a deep breath and continued.
“As you pointed out, my previous campus was different from Emerson. There wasn’t much of an opportunity for me to develop relationships with gay students, staff, or faculty. If there were any in that campus community, I couldn’t have known. It was not a safe place for them to be out. So, I don’t have any gay friends. I’m … um…”
I stammered a bit. But their faces looked interested in what I was saying.
“…I’m hoping being a part of the Emerson community will change this for me. I don’t think I’m as well-rounded a person as I might be otherwise. I can understand why there might be some nervous feelings about bringing someone with a work history like mine to work with students who need the student affairs team to be supportive to the students in all ways. I can’t promise you I won’t mess up from time to time, but I can promise my intent is to move beyond a mindset I’m beginning to understand is narrow. I hope when I leave Emerson, I have some strong friendships with people in the LGBT community.”
The interview panel seemed to relax as I had just before letting them know how I really felt. The faces looking back at me seemed far more interested
I got the job.
I will always love Emerson College for the way it introduced me to a world of lovely people I wouldn’t have known otherwise.
Oh, and I was right about the interview panel that day. There were two gay people in there. One would become a close friend of mine. He was the first person I sent the TikTok video to after I received it. The other became my friend too, but not as close. He was sure I was trying to get a job at Emerson so I could convert the students to Christianity. He came around when he realized that wasn’t my goal.
I left Emerson not long after completing my master’s degree. Through the years I’ve met and befriended a lot of people who are part of the LGBTQ+ community. Returning to work on the campus of Emerson College almost a decade later, I continued to forge new friendships, solidifying it as one of my favorite networks to belong to.
I don’t know what the Fletcher concert experience would have been like if Domenica hadn’t started me on the path to working through my homophobia.
The discomfort on my face in that video wasn't about being around a large number of gay people. I felt more like a fish out of water; like I’d arrived dressed up for a costume party only to find out it wasn’t, just kind of in reverse. It was also turning into somewhat of a sexually charged atmosphere. That’s part of Fletcher’s whole schtick. In my shark/seal analogy, she plays the part of the seal. The sharks buy tickets to see her. It seems to be a profitable relationship.
But that’s an extreme environment. I’m not the kind of person who wants to be at a public, sexually charged environment of any kind. This is especially true when my children are with me. It’s awkward.
I’ve discovered homosexual friends aren't overly focused on sex. This point might seem obvious to many, but for a significant part of my life, I wrongly made sexual drive the central point of the entire sexual orientation conversation. This, however, doesn't reflect reality, just as it doesn't for heterosexual individuals.
If you think back to the early 2000’s you may remember the beginnings of the gay marriage debate. (Well, at least that’s when I remember the beginning.) There came a moment when I realized the argument wasn’t that they wanted to get married so they could have sex.
You don’t have to be married to engage in sexual activity. And, if one’s sexual orientation already placed them in bad standing with a particular faith community like mine, why satisfy the marriage commitment required by the same community?
Marriage equality isn’t about the sex.
Their desire is for meaningful human intimacy.
My focus on sex was … projecting. I had to rethink my own marriage and why I got married. The implications weren’t great.
I promised you, my reader, that what I shared here on this lil’ blog would be unfiltered. So, this is what it is. It’s likely my comment about my marriage leaves you with some…questions. I’ll answer them someday. I promise.
But today I wanted to share with you my journey out of homophobia. I still have some work to do, but my life is better on the other side.
I’m glad I met Lindsay. I hope she was glad to meet me too. I don’t think it’s likely I’ll run into her at another Fletcher concert. But if I do, I’ll be in a different headspace, ready to answer her TikTok niche of a question.
I hope she’s safe, living her best life, and working to make the world better for others too.
Gay or not.