By Andrea Miotto
I have never been able to be out at work. I realized I was bisexual about six years ago, which was a big surprise and yet not a surprise to me. The process of coming out to family, friends and church members (they are Quakers who are very progressive) brought me a lot of peace and acceptance. But I’ve never felt safe enough to be open with employers. I’ve told one or two co-workers here and there. But to come out to everyone at work – that really is the one “final frontier” for me (yes, I’m a Trekkie).
The reasons for my reluctance are my field and my location. I’m a chaplain at a retirement community in central Pennsylvania. I’ve also worked in hospitals and hospices here and in Washington, D.C., my hometown. My job is different from that of a pastor in a church. I don’t preach, teach, lead or proselytize. I don’t advocate or spread any beliefs or doctrines. Instead, I walk alongside people in their journeys, providing caring presence and nonjudgmental listening, and helping them discover their own values, needs, desires, strengths and beliefs. I rarely speak about my own personal beliefs. Prayer and scripture enter the picture only when specifically requested. I love my position and consider it an honor to be with people in their most vulnerable moments.
When I worked in Washington, I provided a caring presence for people of many different races, religions, economic backgrounds, ages and abilities. Many people who are atheist and agnostic also need someone to talk to about certain deep questions that come up in times of crisis. They will come to different conclusions than people with spiritual beliefs, but they can still need someone to tell them they’re not alone and that people who care are nearby. I’ve been privileged to be that person.
I moved to central Pennsylvania about eight years ago to attend a one-year postgraduate residency program. I ended up staying. I love the lack of traffic, the involvement people have in the community, the low cost of living, the scenery, the history of the place and the fact that I’m still not too far from Philadelphia and DC. I’ve also found a wonderfully supportive spiritual community.
Those are the pros. Now the cons: It’s a very socially and religiously conservative and homogenous place. What I miss around here is diversity in all its aspects. Schools, churches and neighborhoods are very much segregated by race. Also, there are very few women, like me, who have never married and never had children. Women get married and/or have children young, and many women my age (mid-40s) are grandmothers. People tend to socialize mostly within their often large extended families and talk mostly about family issues. There’s a toughness in demeanor and a certain coldness, almost an unfriendliness, when people here encounter new people, so simply making friends is hard.
Even the local LGBT community can be close-minded. I’ve had lesbians tell me to my face (and even more commonly on OkCupid) that they would never date a bi woman – for all the stereotypical, biphobic reasons most of you have probably heard. Let’s just say the town isn’t a bonanza of opportunities to date men or women. So while I love many aspects of the area, I sometimes find myself feeling like the odd woman out, which can lead to loneliness.
At least in my social life I can seek out the exceptions – the people who are open-minded, fun and compassionate in their views. At work, I have to deal day in, day out with people who almost all have those “con” traits I mentioned – the coldness to strangers, the conservative social and religious views and a tendency to find never-married, childless women weird. Unfortunately, since I came out to myself, I’ve needed to assume until proven otherwise that people at work – residents, patients, co-workers, outside vendors and supervisors – would be shocked and offended by my sexual orientation. Some might refuse to work with me or let me care for them. Pennsylvania has no protections by law for LGBT folk, so I could be fired legally because I’m bi. One boss in whom I confided, after careful scrutiny of his values, about my sexual orientation, cautioned me not to come out openly in that workplace because most of the staff would treat me poorly. He accepted me, but he knew the other employees too well and didn’t want me to get hurt.
But you know, hiding it hurts, too. Disguising that big a part of me hurts. It’s exhausting. Having to listen to some of the elderly people I serve go on rants about how LGBT people are ruining the country hurts. (Luckily that’s a rare occurrence.) Knowing that a single sentence from me to my colleagues could lose me their respect hurts. It’s not that I want or need to wave my sexual orientation in people’s faces. I’m not even dating anyone right now (big surprise!), so I don’t need to conceal a primary relationship. It’s just knowing that my acceptance on the job is so precarious – that hurts badly. And it scares me.
You know what’s funny? At the hospice I worked for in DC, the entire social work department was gay! They were also extremely sweet people; I can’t imagine them as biphobic. So if only I’d had my big realization a couple of years earlier, I would have found immediate acceptance on the job. But it just hadn’t gotten through my thick head yet.
I’ve thought of moving back. But full-time chaplain jobs are few and far between. If places want to provide spiritual care, they’ll usually rely on retired, volunteer pastors (with none of the training in psychology and communication chaplains have) to come in. Spiritual care jobs tend to be part-time with no benefits, like my current job. Because of that, moving would be difficult financially for me right now – actually almost impossible. Sometimes I feel trapped.
I focus daily on the blessings in my life. There are many of them. I know that many, many LGBT people would love to have a church, family and friends who are so welcoming and kind. But I still dream of being my true self in that final frontier.
Andrea is a chaplain, poet and author in Central Pennsylvania.