J.D. Walker
“Boom bye bye inna batty bwoy head.” A reference to killing homosexuals, the lyrics by Buju Banton were a part of my childhood. I grew up with religion, homophobia, machismo and “a woman’s place” as a part of my mental landscape. But then, I moved to the US and, over time, was able to break free of my upbringing on the “no problem, man” island, find my own belief system and acknowledge my bisexuality.
My journey toward self-knowledge and acceptance began when, after moving to Atlanta in 1996, I made a new friend. He was gay, and it didn’t even occur to me at the time (or after), that according to what I’d been taught as a child, he was “the devil.” To this day I wonder why that was. According to my background, I should have been disgusted, but I wasn’t. My friends, up to this point, had all been church-related. Through his kindness and friendship (and sense of humor), my mind was awakened to the idea that being gay was just simply being who you were. Our friendship never faltered.
Another breakthrough came when I removed established religion from my life. I realized that I had attended church for the sake of others, not my sanity. My belief system had closed my mind to the realities and possibilities of the human condition, as defined by the self and soul-searching, not someone else’s opinion.
Then, I went a step further. You see, as a member of a conservative Christian church, I had been taught that marriage and intimate relationships were between a man and a woman, and all else was blasphemy.
But, I started to wonder: if God is love, why should that love be conditional based upon who you love? Was it, then, based upon your interpretation of the Bible? And did it really matter? I discovered that for me, it mattered.
Funny thing, after I got married, it was my husband who finally broke through the remaining barriers to my selfrealization by asking, “Hon, have you ever considered that you might be attracted to women?” Well, I was stunned, to say the least. He had obviously seen something that I was still blind to. It hadn’t occurred to me there was another layer to explore.
How could that be? As I worked through my thoughts, I came to the conclusion that my upbringing had been so ingrained that, unless someone pointed it out to me, it would never have even crossed my mind that I could be attracted to the same gender. The suppression and repression was that deep. I was 33 when I finally admitted to being attracted to women, as well as men.
The years following that question were filled with trying to understand what it meant to be attracted to the same sex, with odd questions such as, “Does that mean I’m more in touch with my masculine side?” Or, “Is there such a thing as a masculine side? Should I be married to a man? Does that make me a hypocrite?”
The answers I sought were filled with missteps and assumptions – some amusing, some not. I decided to buy a pair of Doc Martens thinking that, if I wore clothing or shoes which, in my mind, put me closer to my sexual identity, then great! Well, all I got from that phase was sore feet and a bruise on my forehead when I tripped and fell, hitting one of the stone steps on a staircase. Brilliant!
Then I tried hanging out at a lesbian bar, attempting to make new friends; not much success there either, since I didn’t have a wide frame of reference.
My husband and I went to an Atlanta Gay Pride parade, and I also marched beside one of the floats one year – satisfying, but still not where I wanted to be. (Of course, in true Atlanta fashion, it rained and stormed, and I was soaked to the bone, along with my gay-themed T-shirt and my new convictions.)
The best thing I did, actually, was to join a running and walking group that was LGBT-friendly. Though consisting of mostly men, I made friends with others in the rainbow universe, found a forum to be myself and traded in my Doc Martens for sneakers! My toes were grateful.
I decided to “build it and (s)he will come” and left the worry about being too straight or too gay behind me. I left myself open to new and unexpected experiences. My experiences as an artist, writer and musician were also helpful as I explored my new rainbow world through these mediums.
A few years ago, I performed an original song I wrote called “Hell” at a Women’s festival that took place in the Georgia Mountains. It was surprisingly well received. It told of my struggle to define my sexual identity. Some of the lyrics were as follows: “Devil found me searching/For my heart’s desire/When I saw her smiling/My desire turned to fire/Oh, take me home, Oh take me home/ Then the devil took my hand/And we sang our song/Into the depths of hell/I was feeling strong/On the way down, on the way down/I’m in hell, I’m in hell.”
Many women in attendance told me that they loved the song and what it meant. I also got similar reactions from audiences at other venues, and gained many new friends as a result.
The last step was family. My late brother didn’t care. His response was “Okay,” then he went back to the game on TV. As for my parents, it took the suicide of my youngest sibling in 2010 for me to come out to my mother, but she didn’t really hear me in her grief. When I was diagnosed with thyroid cancer and had surgery in 2013, then lost my voice for a year, I decided it was time to come clean – for real, this time. Life was way too short.
I told my parents about my bisexuality, and whether or not they really understood or accepted me was beside the point. It was enough for me that I finally told them. A weight had been lifted.
So, now I say thank you to my first gay friend, and thank you to my husband, whose unconditional love, acceptance and patience is more valuable to me than gold. I am thankful for all my experiences. I wouldn’t be where I am today without them.
I lay no claim to anything religious. I prefer to experience life and humanity from day to day and learn from it all. Sexuality is just one layer. We are all one.
J.D. Walker is an author of LGBT erotic romance, as well as an artist and musician. Check out her website for upcoming books, artwork, music videos and a quirky blog: www.expressionsbyjo.com, or send her an email at josexpressions@yahoo.com.