Back to Church

I grew up Christian.

I believed in God, that Jesus died for me. Did the whole choir thing, the praying and whatever else came along with getting into heaven.

After university, I came out of the closet and tried to somehow incorporate my faith into my new lifestyle. It was impossible. I finally left church about a year and half ago, sad at first, but vindicated. My sadness was due in part that I grew up not knowing how to be anything else. I lost my sense of purpose and identity, how does one not be a Christian?

This blog isn’t about religion vs. homosexuality. I’ve battled those demons already and have come out the wiser. Yes, I do think I am the better for leaving those values behind; Christians are beneath me because my eyes are now as open as my mind: wide.

This blog is simply to say this: As much as I think that God - yes, with an uppercased “G” - is a result of human make-believe and the Christian institution is deceiving …  I miss it. Those feelings - hope, love, happiness, belonging, I can’t deny that they were real. Real enough to cry tears of both sadness and joy, that gave me warm fuzzies and the guilt of sin.

I miss being greeted with a smile every Sunday, singing to catchy songs and the feeling of doing good in God’s eyes.

I’d never go back, though. Not for a second.

The same as her

For a photography project, I had intended to document a drag queen - the transformation from man, to woman, to performer. A venue in the Wellesley Village, Crews and Tangos, stages many of such entertainers and it would not have been hard to contact any of them.

Convincing them, however, posed a challenge. I’m not a phone person, nor will I ever be, so I resorted to the only social medium that I have now sadly become accustomed to - facebook.com. My stalkerish instincts linked me to a performer who will remain anonymous for the sake of privacy. In the end, she didn’t return my message, but since I had a backup plan, I was unperturbed (I ended up photographing a fashion show instead).

Nevertheless, I regret not doing my initial idea because my reason for choosing the subject was personal: as a homosexual myself, I inevitably face challenges everyday - the riducule, whispers, discrimination, even physical abuse. Shamefully, I confess that I do hold contempt for the cross-dressing contingent of the gay community and I’m not alone. This came to light recently when a friend studying cosmetic artistry asked me to model for her in a drag show. I rebuked the idea and thought I could never stoop that low. How ironic.

But what if someone thought low of me because of my lifestyle choice?
For many, it’s all about perception – to what level of degree does someone have to be gay before they make others feel uncomfortable? How can homosexuals want equality and acceptance when we do not exhibit those behaviours ourselves? Simply, how much gay is too gay?

In this project, I wanted to tell a story beyond the glitz and glamour of the stage. What some perceive to be outlandish, silly and appalling ignore the human face that exists beyond the conspicuous outfits and exaggerated makeup.

Most importantly, and on a personal level, I wanted to expose myself to this arena because I needed to prove that my innate response would correlate with my new attitude. One day, I’ll do this project leisurely and I’ll find out

My First Blog. Yes, I know the title yawns with excitement

Like a runner training for a marathan, a writer needs to practice his or her writing. Everyday. This, according to Melanie McBride - an instructor at Centennial College and a blogger herself. She inspired me recently to start training my writing abilities…again.

My confession: I had a blog before, but stopped because I seldom wrote about anything important. Somehow, I thought that telling the world about my boring day at the park, or the hours spent watching people at Starbucks (asleep, yet?) made me an interesting writer. It’s time to wakeup and smell the Americano.

A mentor once told me that a good storyteller - a journalist - tells good stories. A great journalist turns a boring story into an interesting one. Improving my writing style - the delivery of my words - is my mission for this blog.

I will try.

Ryan