On Being Seen and Heard: Revoice as a Coming Home.
I n another life, an anxious teenager dreamt of sneaking away to a certain "ex-gay" conference in a far away state. But what if someone recognizes me? What if a protester takes my picture and publishes it online? How does a 15-year-old get from central Illinois to Florida for the weekend with no money, ID, or parental permission anyway? I never did get the logistics straightened out. Now, naive as I was at the time, I wasn't quite that dumb. Far from thinking I could make my dream a reality, it was the simple idea of a safe space with people "like me" I found comfort in. Despite being a cradle churchgoer, baptized into Christ at age 11, the reconciliation of my faith and sexuality was a desert wasteland I travailed alone (apart from a magnificent counselor, also same-sex attracted, to whom I bore my soul once a month). Fast forward over a decade. So much has changed. The scared teenager who once "struggled" with his sexuality is now a 26-year-old