GLBT Hopes, by Phillip Hoyle

Growing up I had no GLBT hopes. I had no idea what those initials represented; no idea that the concepts and rich human experiences behind them had anything to do with me. I didn’t feel hopeless. I was simply clueless.

In my early twenties I came to hear and understand a little about the beginnings of the gay liberation movement. I had taken great interest in the African American movements, had begun to read about the feminist movement, and realized I needed to know more about all such movements. I had very generalized hopes for all of them, for the securing of civil rights for all Americans under law regardless of race, gender, sex, education, and a number of other differences that left them susceptible to many injustices. I saw how churches as well as the general community were unjust towards minorities. I had hopes for a better America and for better American churches.

For myself I had believed in the idea that you grew up, got educated, got married, reared children, and in my case served churches through your ministry. Since I was on route to become a minister, I accepted I would have to toe the line on some things that others in the congregation might not find necessary. Life was good. Whatever LGBT hopes I had were for others.

At the point when I accepted that homosexuality was right at the center of who I was, I hoped that my wife might find herself to be lesbian. We could then work out a special arrangement to continue living together. It didn’t happen. I assumed I would always be married and hoped I would never to go too far in satisfying my homosexual needs. I didn’t want to change the trajectory of my life.

Midlife took care of that for me. I was changing emotionally. I had no doubt that I loved my wife or that she loved me. I wanted a man to love me; I wanted to love a man. When I realized I was going to become the bad husband and a bad minister, I changed both roles. I was hurting my wife. I didn’t want to do so. We talked but there was so much emotion—so many emotions—we didn’t know what to do. Our settlement settled little. We did separate. I bore the responsibility before our families. We said goodbye with a kiss and tears.

Within a month I had GLBT hopes. Lots of them: to finish my job obligation; to move to one of three western American cities; to live openly as a gay man. For twenty years I had considered myself bisexual. Now I was going to simplify my life.

My gay hope was to learn just what gay would mean for me. First though some other things would take my attention: getting work for income, writing, and dedicating lots of time to the visual arts. I began writing episodes from my life and then writing about my new work: massage. A new gay hope emerged: to write up my gay life experiences. Before long I was pleased to find myself loving a man who loved me. I hoped we’d have lots of time together. He died from AIDS. Then I grieved a true GLBT grief. During this time I was careful with myself. I stayed busy with my work. I was still engaged as a gay man. I wrote about the loss of my gay partner. It was a sequel to one I had written a couple of years earlier when a gay friend had died from AIDS. (The two pieces may be my best writing to date.)

Then I met a gay daydream at a bus stop in my neighborhood. Our love blossomed. Then he died. I sagged. Still I wrote and realized I would write much more about my gay experiences. My arts kept me hopeful.

A straight woman friend of mine told me about the SAGE of the Rockies Telling Your Story. I attended wondering how my writing would be heard by a truly GLBT audience. It was like a gay hope come true. From this ever-changing group of storytellers that offers ever-changing and sometimes emotion-blowing perspectives, I have clarified my new GLBT Hopes:

I now hope that GLBT (etc.) folk will all someday take time to hear one another’s stories. There is no better way to come to know oneself than to hear the stories of others, no better way to be inspired than to hear the experiences of another person you know more than superficially. I hope that those stories will also become of interest to other humans—you know like those who claim to be straight or heterosexual or some other category. I want this latter so they can see how little different are all people.

I hope that GLBTs will always vote mindfully in local, state, and national elections.

I hope that LGBTs will come to appreciate and respect one another as much as we want others to honor and respect us.

© 9 January 2017 

About the Author 

 Phillip Hoyle lives in Denver and spends his time writing, painting, and socializing. In general he keeps busy with groups of writers and artists. Following thirty-two years in church work and fifteen in a therapeutic massage practice, he now focuses on creating beauty. He volunteers at The Center leading the SAGE program “Telling Your Story.”

He also blogs at artandmorebyphilhoyle.blogspot.com