When I see the rainbow flag, a flood of toxic adjectives come with it. The conservative newsletters that came to our family mailbox juxtaposed LGBT symbols, including the flag, with phrases like “cult-like mentality,” “militant,” “lack of maturity,” “stark, scary,” “lack of authenticity,” and “sneaky” (from an actual pamphlet). And these phrases are tame compared to the rhetoric of speakers like Scott Lively, who equates gay and lesbian people with Nazis and serial killers.
When I see a pink triangle, a flood of troubling images come with it. Conservative Christian literature (as well as mainstream media) often used images to demonize LGBT people, publishing the most extreme pictures of lewd scenes or angry protestors screaming at marches. One picture in particular stands out to me: a young man holding a banner, his face contorted in a raging shout. I was told this anger was evidence of hostility–hostility toward God, toward Christians, toward me.
When I was coming out of denial about my sexual orientation while a student at a conservative Baptist college, the last place I would have turned for help was an LGBT Center. I was afraid to go near such places.
Even when I soon realized the LGBT community is not the hostile, debauched group I had been led to believe it was, my body still reacted from years of exposure to propaganda. Several years ago, when I was working at the University of California, I decided to reach out to the director of the campus LGBT Center. I wanted to proactively make connections to help me move past the ghost stories. I already had several LGBT friends, but most of them were Christians who had been in the ex-gay movement. We had separated ourselves from affirming LGBT people. My contact with the campus director was an effort to break out of the bubble.
But as I walked up the hill to the Center, my chest began to tighten with anxiety. Old tapes began to taunt, “You are going into enemy territory!” Intellectually, I knew that was absurd—even if I saw such people as enemies, which I did not, Jesus said to love my enemies. Yet despite recognizing the anxiety was from old tapes, my body still responded as though I was in danger. Of course, as soon as I arrived at the Center, everything was normal. It was a warm, inviting space overlooking a redwood grove. I had lunch with the director several times over the following years.
Fast forward to the present. One would think the effects of religious trauma would have abated by now. But they haven’t. When I became involved with the LGBT Center of Durham a couple of years ago, I felt the same anxiety. It took courage to enter that space. But when I finally determined to go and walked in the doors, the ghost stories began to dissipate. The founders, Helena and Sylvia, immediately put me at ease with their friendly welcome.
I don’t know how long it will take me to recover from the propaganda I was exposed to for so many years. The support group I attend offers some solace. Repeatedly putting myself in LGBT spaces is also helpful. It’s almost amusing how when I attend an event, part of me is always startled, “Hey, there are normal people here!” Of course, every time that realization occurs, I reinforce that truth for myself. Sometimes when the ghost stories haunt me, I assess who I am as a person: intelligent, kind, hardworking, lover of God, emotionally healthy. I am normal.
Significantly, it’s not only LGBT people like me who are dealing with religious trauma. Cisgender straight conservatives also experience aversion to certain symbols and spaces because of the effects of propaganda. Religious trauma, left unhealed, means false images of sexual minorities continue to circulate and negatively affect relationships between conservatives and the broader LGBT community. Part of being a Christian means caring about truth and fighting against the use of propaganda. Here are some preliminary suggestions I want to offer. I hope others will brainstorm with me.
1. Recognize that religious trauma may cause LGBT symbols to evoke stress, impacting the treatment of LGBT people. Currently, little attention is given to how profoundly certain symbols can elicit fear, aversion, and barriers to building bridges. How might churches help those affected by religious trauma as it relates to symbols?
2. Proactively stand up against propaganda. If you see a newsletter from a conservative Christian organization perpetuating falsehoods about LGBT people in order to scare people into political action, contact that organization to register your concern. Call if possible. Write a formal letter. If you hear a pastor or speaker express misinformation, ask for an appointment to discuss it. Finally, be proactive about sharing positive and truthful images of LGBT people. One way I am trying to do this for my own benefit is through highlighting the lives of LGBT people on this website as well as at another blog LGBTQ Images.
3. Create support groups for people experiencing religious trauma. Processing the ways propaganda has had an impact on one’s psyche is helpful. At the support group I attend, I was able to share my struggle around LGBT symbols, as well as ask the other participants what the rainbow flag means to them. Their answers were helpful for contemplating fresh interpretations. Both LGBT Centers and churches can create these kinds of support groups.
4. Create open houses that build bridges. Conservative Christians can call the local LGBT Center and ask for a tour. Go to learn, not to evangelize. Get to know LGBT people as genuine friends. Ghost stories are best put to rest through relationship. Conservatives can also work to dispel negative perceptions some LGBT people might have of Christians because of painful experiences. Similarly, LGBT folk, when it feels safe, can also invite conservatives into their spaces to increase opportunities for friendly interaction.
In essence, I am still trying to figure out how to best address the effects of religious trauma. These are my initial thoughts. What do you think? I would love to hear your thoughts too. What are your ideas for addressing religious trauma in relationship to LGBT symbols?