Confessions of a Pansexual Christian

 “But, you know, I feel more fellowship with the defeated than with saints. Heroism and sanctity don't really appeal to me, I imagine. What interests me is being a man.” 
― Albert Camus, The Plague

I never thought the day would come when I would do this. To be honest, there’s a part of me that’s screaming to stop typing this letter. There’s a part of me that’s telling me that this is a bad idea. I do believe, however, that I owe it to both communities to come out in the open.

Both sides have had much misunderstanding. Both sides have had much conflict. And I believe many on both sides of the camp are tired of all the fighting. I know I am.

I am a Christian.

I identify as Pansexual (and for the sake of this letter, I will not mention my attraction to women).

The journey to discovering my sexuality, as a Christian, was not an easy one.

I first found myself being attracted to other men at around Primary 6. Not really understanding what those feelings were, I brushed them aside and assumed that it was simply a matter of feeling a sense of friendship with some of my male classmates. It was around Secondary 2 (two years into church) that I realized that I was noticing things about other guys – particularly one.

Having grown up in a single-parent family, my mom spent most of her time working to keep the family going and I didn’t have anyone to really talk to about my feelings. The realization that I was romantically interested in another guy was a bit of a revelation for me and no small amount of unnerving and confusing.

After all, weren’t men and boys supposed to fall in love and be attracted to the opposite sex?

Seeking to understand what was going on, I went to speak to my pastors about this. Needless to say, it didn’t end well. I was sent for counselling and I was urged to repent of my sinful ways.

Whenever I broached the topic to any of the leadership, it would be avoided. When I hinted at the idea of speaking about homosexuality (or any form of non-heterosexuality) with my peers, the topic was met with revulsion. I never dared to speak to anyone else about it. For a period of time, I went for “counselling”. Little was spoken or explained about what I felt and most of the time was spent on telling me that what I was feeling was unnatural and sinful, and that I ought to confess my sin to God and repent.

For a period of time, at the age of 14, I believed all of that. And through that period of time, I began locking away my feelings, never daring to explore them. I was afraid to feel what I was feeling. I never made friends because I was afraid that they would discover this dark secret of mine. Again and again, I tried to renounce what I was feeling. It never worked. All those feelings just kept returning. I began believing that I was a failure as a Christian and that I was to be condemned to Hell.

I had no one to confide in. I found no resolution to my situation. I left that church.

I began doubting my worth as a person.

I retreated into myself and fell into depression. At the age of 16, I wanted to kill myself. After all, in a doctrine that said that I was condemned either way, what point was there in continuing?

The turning point came when my mom attended another church and invited me over. Well, more like dragged me over. I hated it at first but, for some reason, I stayed anyway. I guess the people were friendly enough.

Three months down the road, while staying over at a pastor’s house, I took a risk and revealed my interest in men to him. He looked up from breakfast, shrugged his shoulders and went back to eating his cereal. Then, he asked me what I thought of the day.

“Some people advise you what to do and some people forbid what not to do, but the genuine people just ask you if they can do anything for you.” 
― Anuj Somany

To not receive admonishment or any form of rejection came as a shock for me. But that was to be the genuine start of my journey as a Christian.

Years passed and I got to know God better, and I even got out of my shell and made some friends. One thing that I never quite got, though, was a proper role-model. I wanted to live out my life as a Christian as real as possible. I also wanted to live life true to myself.

It’s difficult, even as I’m writing now after all these years, to express the confusion of reconciling my faith with my state. At least, it’s difficult to explain without ending up preaching about things. I had friends within my Christian circle and I had friends within my LGBT circle. None intersected between both.

I studied the Scriptures. I wrestled a lot with many concepts and ideologies, and I spent many nights crying and wondering. The church always preached about love and mercy but that was easy (enough) to apply to a heterosexual person. What about those who fell into the taboos? What about me?

“Am I a hypocrite?”

That’s a question that’s always on my mind.

I’m going to stop this recount here. What’s the point of this whole monologue? I guess… I’m just hoping to provide some perspective without all the rage.

What really prompted this letter was seeing a large part of my church wearing white over the weekend for FamFest (a.k.a the anti-gay protest parading as a family-friendly event). It felt like betrayal.

This one’s to my fellow Christians. We (non-hetro-sexuals) are very much real people with real emotions. The love we feel for others and the romance is very, VERY real to us. It’s the kind of love where we wake up each day, looking forward to see the one we love – to know the one we love more.

Lawrence Khong spoke of the “gay agenda”. To be fair, there’re some who have turned this into a political issue. For the majority of us, however, Pink Dot is about equality. It is about being validated as people – as individual human beings with real dreams and real emotions. Pink Dot represents us not having to hide in a closet, constantly afraid of being outed and rejected for something we didn’t choose. After all, how do you choose who you fall in love with? To revalidate that, even if you were to reference all the Scripture in the world, how is that the Gospel? How is that loving or compassionate?

“If I speak with human eloquence and angelic ecstasy but don’t love, I’m nothing but the creaking of a rusty gate. If I speak God’s Word with power, revealing all his mysteries and making everything plain as day, and if I have faith that says to a mountain, “Jump,” and it jumps, but I don’t love, I’m nothing. If I give everything I own to the poor and even go to the stake to be burned as a martyr, but I don’t love, I’ve gotten nowhere. So, no matter what I say, what I believe, and what I do, I’m bankrupt without love.”

― 1 Corinthians 13:1-7 (MSG)

To my fellow gay, bisexual, lesbian, trans and (insert sexuality of choice) friends, I want to apologize to all of you on behalf of the Christian community. I am extremely sorry that you have been wounded in some way or another and I hope and pray that you’ll someday find it in your heart to forgive us.

I know that apology could mean absolutely nothing to you and that it probably won’t make up for a lot of hurt that has happened from the Christian community. To be rejected and devaluated is never an easy thing to be faced with.

I need to let you know, though, that there’re the quiet ones within the Church – those who choose to see you as a person beyond who you lay with.

On Sunday, most of my church wore white. I felt a great sense of betrayal. Then, there were the few who knew about me. And they chose not to wear white. They decided that they could not support an event that essentially de-humanized someone.

I am blessed to have been able to discover friends like that but they’re not the only ones out there in the world. There’re so many more out there in Singapore.

At the end of the day, having been in both sides of this conflict – and sandwiched in this conflict – I’m hoping for the day when everyone can put aside their differences and see each other as people. People who are imperfect. People who are broken.

People who are in need of love.