What it’s like being queer in the ‘Buckle of the Bible Belt’

Tennessee is known for Southern hospitality, country music and ridiculously sweet tea. Unfortunately, my home state has something dark looming just under our Southern comfort.

Tennesseans just can’t seem to wrap their heads around their queer dilemma.

Recently, Tennessee tabled its transgender bathroom bill. The bill’s co-sponsor, Senator Mike Bell, is from my hometown of Cleveland, also known as the “Buckle of the Bible Belt.” Bell’s transgender bill comes on the heels of HB1840. This bill, sponsored by Cleveland’s Representative Dan Howell, allows therapists to reject patients if the case conflicts with their principles. These bills are discriminatory and queer youth are often caught in the crossfire.

Nationally, queer youth are almost twice as likely to attempt suicide than their heterosexual peers. They’re also at a higher risk of being bullied, threatened, raped and kicked out of their homes. Kids in Cleveland are no exception.

My good friend Blake Kitterman came out during our junior year. His first crush was on Leonardo DiCaprio when he was seven years old. He fought his feelings for years, then another gay student told him: “I didn’t choose the shoes I was born in.” Blake fled to religion, listening to sermons condemning homosexuality, but nothing worked. So he accepted his sexuality.

Coming out to his mom strained their relationship, so he waited to come out to grandparents, fearful they would disown him. A few months ago, an article in our local newspaper mentioned his sexuality, so Blake came out before they read it. His grandmother said: “You should know us better than to think we would disown you.” Blake’s dedication to his political career has given his family an outlet to discuss his sexuality. Now they’re his strongest advocates.

Blake’s experiences shine a light on a skeleton in Cleveland’s closet. He agreed to take conversion therapy through his church. The counselor criticized every facet of his life, trying to determine when Blake “went gay.” Blake had to stand before his church leaders, confessing his sins and praying for forgiveness.

After a while, the counselor stopped scheduling appointments. At first, Blake felt he was a lost cause. Now, he realizes these sessions were degrading. He’s proud of who he is and prayer won’t change that.

“Being religious is not a bad thing, but sacrificing who you are to the aggregate is.”

I spoke to a closeted young queer woman – let’s call her Jamie – who lives here. She grew up in a heavily religious household and struggled with queer feelings for most of her life.

“Being queer didn’t seem like something you could be in the South,” she said. “My dad thinks it’s an abomination and my mom thinks it’s something ‘cured’ with prayer.”

In high school, Jamie developed romantic feelings for a female classmate. She met other queer students there. Queer people were no longer the faceless monsters she’d heard about in church.

“Once I accepted being queer wasn’t evil, it became easier to accept I was queer.”

She still hasn’t come out to her family, though. Jamie knows they wouldn’t kick her out, but coming out would hurt their relationship.

“They’re my main support group and I’m scared of losing that. I can handle disapproval from anyone else, but not them.”

Jamie’s taking baby steps. She has come out to her older sister, and while her sister doesn’t completely approve, she’s incredibly supportive. Jamie hopes she’ll come out to the rest of her family one day.

For now, she finds solace in ETSU’s HEROES club. HEROES helps combat the isolation that comes with being queer in the South.

“It takes a huge weight off of my chest knowing there are other queer people who are thriving.”

She said it’s easy to get caught up in all the negativity – the legislation, the homophobia and the loneliness. It can seem like being queer doesn’t end in happily ever after. Being part of HEROES shows her there is something to live for and she will get her happy ending.

Blake’s advice for closeted queers like Jamie: you’re not alone. He draws strength from queer leaders because they’re fighting for him and supporting him. He hopes to use his platform to help queer youth like Jamie. However, he warns people against defining themselves by their sexuality.

“You are so much more than your sexuality or gender identification. Society cannot define what love means to you or what makes you happy. Don’t let the assholes get you down.”