Reckless has not been back to her hometown since she came out in November of 2016 because she fears what might happen. She grew up in the heart of Appalachia in a very backward, homophobic town where she witnessed persecution toward the LGBTQ community. She has chosen to avoid that by never going home.
Reckless’ Story
My life has been a constant battle, beginning with my parents’ divorce. I was a little over the age of four when my father left my mother. My dad is a veterinarian and owns his own clinic but never provided child support for my older brother and me. My mother worked three jobs to support us while my dad lived in a nice home with a pool and SUVs. At my father’s home, I was upper middle class and lived that lifestyle. At my mother’s, I was in the “working poor” class but, somehow, I never wanted for anything.
My father remarried my stepmother right away. My stepmother had been working at my father’s clinic, which is how they met. It was shortly after when my half-brothers were born and life became even more hectic. Both of my parents wanted custody, so the court set a very dysfunctional visitation schedule that required my brother and me to see both parents every day, starting in kindergarten and ending when I was a freshman in high school. Each parent was also allotted one week’s worth of vacation time with us over the summer. My father had gained a new life and a new family, and my stepmother was frequently angered that she and her family, my father and half-brothers, had to plan their lives around my older brother and me. Instead of feeling loved, I felt like an object being passed back and forth. It was exhausting, and it seemed like there was never enough time to simply be a kid.
My brother and I had an odd relationship. Early on, we were very close and he was everything that I wanted and needed in a big brother. However, as we grew older he became envious of me. He was three years older and somewhat introverted, while I was an extrovert and very sociable. I often got away with things that he would not have gotten away with. Looking back now, I see that there was wrong done on both ends that resulted in creating the odd relationship. The worst part is that he resented me for being so involved with activities because I did not have to work like he did at age fifteen. Life was difficult for the both of us, but I think he believed it was easier for me.
My mom worked hard and truly loved her children. It was evident in the way that she advocated for us. I still remember days when my father would pry my arms off my mother’s neck, when I was four and five years old and the court-ordered schedule was a new thing. My mother had not gone to college and had a hard time finding a high paying job, so she started working three low paying jobs so that she could continue to provide for us. My mother remarried after one or two years and I gained two stepsiblings.
My father had a lot to juggle between his business, his new family, and his old one. I did love my father but was frequently confused by the decisions that he made. To me, life before the divorce was perfect and I couldn’t understand why he had initiated so much change and there were times that I was very angry at him for doing so. Although I was hurt that he had chosen another family over the one that he already had, I also remember nights where he would soothe me as I held one of his fingers until I fell asleep.
Things slowly deteriorated between the two of us and it was during freshman year that I stopped going to my dad’s house. I had just gotten back from a week-long vacation with one of my friends. It was 3:00 pm on Sunday afternoon and my mother was scheduled to pick me up at 6:00 pm. My father and stepmother left to go to the store and I was responsible for watching my little brothers. When 6:00 pm rolled around, my father was still not home. My mother had arrived to pick me up and I could not leave my little brothers alone. I called my dad more than twenty times and my mother was getting impatient. After fifteen minutes or so my father came home and told me that I was not allowed to leave. My dad wanted the week that I had gone to the beach with a friend to be considered my mother’s vacation week with me even though she had not gone. He wanted an additional vacation week with me at his house. When I refused, he became very angry and said that I was out of control and a bad child. The last thing that he said to me was, “If you leave with your mother instead of staying here for a week, don’t come back.” So, I didn’t.
After nearly a year of not speaking to my father, Christmas time rolled around and my older brother, who was still going back and forth between both parents, brought me a Christmaspresent from my stepmother. I was confused that she sent me a present but opened it anyway. The inside contained a ring box and a bag, so I opened the ring box first. Surprisingly, something other than a ring was inside. The ring box was filled with dog feces and the bag was filled with rotten lettuce that had become liquid. There were many times following that experience that my father mailed me letters telling me how horrible I was and that my mother had corrupted me. I grew to despise my stepmother and was extremely hurt by my father.
Before the split from my dad, between sports and seeing both parents daily, I was a very busy girl. I was an athlete and did cheerleading from first grade through my junior year of college. Gymnastics accompanied cheerleading, so I had some sort of practice almost every day during the week and some competitions on the weekend. I played soccer from seventh grade through senior year of high school and turned down a full scholarship to play collegiate soccer. There was not much room for anything else.
I found it much easier to talk to women growing up so they became my closest relationships. In fourth and fifth grade, I had several infatuations with female role models in my life. At that time, I thought that my obsession with women was just a need for attention. I remember experiencing same-sex attraction as early as third grade. I had no real interest in dating boys but fell into peer pressure and the preconceived idea that I was supposed to be with them.
As early as fourth grade I dated boys because I assumed that I was supposed to be straight. I did not allow myself to even explore the thought of being a lesbian. Every church that I had ever been to spoke against it and Christianity was very important to me. The churches in my hometown used the slogan “turn or burn” and being gay was said to be an unforgivable sin that would send you into an eternal fire pit. It was unsafe to be gay.
I only knew of two gay men in the entire town and only one of them was open about his sexual orientation. One of the guys was one of my closest friends in middle school and he refused to go to the county high school because he feared that he would be harmed by those who were homophobic. Back then, he said that he didn’t want to attend the county high school because the city school had better academics, but we knew of high schoolers at the county school who had already been mean to him for being feminine. It was a rough awakening for my group of friends. I had gone to school with him since preschool. Knowing that he wouldn’t attend the same high school instilled a deeper fear of what being gay might do for my safety and I cowered even deeper in the closet.
In high school, I tried to make myself attracted to guys and dated them during my freshman year and half of sophomore year. I loved making friends and got along with pretty much everyone. It was confusing for me dating guys and pretending to be straight. Each relationship that I was in with a boy felt forced and uncomfortable. It was like I had to invent ways to be “in relationship” with them because it felt so wrong. After several failed relationships, I thought that I had just not been with the right guy and even convinced myself that if I had sex with a guy, I would somehow start liking men. That experience woke me up to the reality of my identity. I never had sex again but I continued to attempt dating guys. By the end of sophomore year, I thought “maybe I am not meant to date anyone.” So, I did not date anyone from sophomore year to senior year. I threw all my time into soccer and cheerleading and being the very best friend to others that I could be. Being a good friend was important to me and somewhat filled my need for relationship with others.
Before my freshman year in high school, I went to church with my dad. After our falling out, I did not go to church until junior year. Growing up in a non-denominational church that was highly influenced by surrounding Pentecostal and Baptist churches was somewhat good for me in terms of creating community with others. I was saved at the age of seven and thought I knew what Christianity was all about. I was close with the youth group, and my group of friends often got together outside of church. I thoroughly enjoyed church until I was in middle school, because it was around that time that I started having disputes with my father and stepmother and did not enjoy being around them. There was a time that I was sick on a Sunday morning and did not get out of bed to get dressed for church and my stepmother forced me to go anyway. I was wearing my pajamas and I was not allowed to change clothes. During the service, my stepmother approached the pastor and asked him to pray for me because I was becoming rebellious and an “evil” child. The pastor prayed for me and “laid hands on me” with several others. This event tainted the way that I viewed the church and no longer felt welcome in any church setting.
During the summer between sophomore and junior year, I went to a Christian conference and had a spiritual experiencelike no other there that prompted me to recommit my life to Christ. Carl Lentz, one of the speakers, told a story about the way he would tell his daughters positive attributes that they held so that when the world started trying to influence their identity, they would be able to confidently say, “My Father (God) says___” instead. I thought about my relationship with my father and thought that if I could be forgiven by God for all the bad that I had done, there was some way that I could forgive my father for what he had done.
Junior year, I started going to church with a friend and began to experience God differently than I had in the past.
I was thankful to be forgiven. I did a lot of bad things during my freshman and sophomore year in high school, most of which were the result of trying to convince myself that I liked men. For example, during freshman year I had dated an older guy, a freshman in college, and he took full advantage of my fragile state, taking inappropriate photos of me. Long story, short, the guy that I had been dating started dating a new girl and she found the photos on his computer. She became enraged and decided to send the photos to everyone on his email list, which included nearly all my teachers and friends. The ones that received the pictures via email forwarded them to more people and soon the entire high school had seen them. My older brother and mother found out about them and there was a period of roughly a year that they looked at me as if I was horrible. When I attended the Christian conference, most people had forgotten about my past. I, however, had not, which led me to find peace and comfort in knowing that God forgave me for the horrible things that I had done. God helped me to begin to forgive myself and others. After that year, I slowly began talking to my father again.
The college I attended the following fall had a culture that was much more open to the LGBTQ community. I majored in sociology. Sophomore year, I took a sociology class that was taught by a lesbian. She was married to a woman who also worked at the college. I saw the way they interacted with one another and it resonated with me. I wanted that in my life. At that moment, I realized that I was gay. It was difficult for me to accept this fact, due to my Christian beliefs. I remember praying multiple times during the day asking God to take the burden away from me.
In the middle of my sophomore year, I met someone through mutual friends. She was a lesbian and pursued me. I was extremely vulnerable; I had not told anyone about my sexualorientation and therefore had no one to discuss it with, and immediately responded. We talked for a while then started dating. I really didn’t like her emotionally, physically, or spiritually but it was comforting to have someone to talk to about being gay and the reality of it. We ended up dating for two years and no one knew about us. She went to another college. so it was easy to lie about where I was going and what I was doing. I was popular and lived in a sorority house, so people were constantly asking me where I was going so frequently. Lying became an everyday thing for me to do. The relationship was not good, although I convinced myself that it was for almost a year and a half. The woman was very manipulative and required that I see her every two weeks. My life became an intense schedule of friends—home—girlfriend—classes. It was crazy. She also communicated with me constantly through texts. If I did not respond to her within a couple of minutes she became furious. She isolated me from all my friends and made it so that I was only close with her. She controlled every moment of my life. I was not allowed to go to fraternity parties or drink with my friends. I was not allowed to go to my sorority formals. She even became hostile toward me when I became a sociology tutor, simply because that meant I would be spending time with other people. She was extremely abusive and sexually assaulted me more than ten times. Further, she often did things to me that would cause me to have panic attacks and thought that doing so was funny. She would also come into the bathroom while I was showering and take pictures of me while showering, although I always locked the door, she would unlock it and barge in. She violated me frequently.
At the end of my junior year, I became more depressed than ever. I thought it was because I was not out yet, which was a lie that my girlfriend told me. I wasn’t allowing myself to see the abuse that was happening to me and my girlfriend tried to divert my attention elsewhere.
At the beginning of my senior year, I started seeing a counselor. We tried to find the root of my depression and the counselor asked me to write down every time I was anxious.After doing this for a week, I realized that every anxious moment involved my girlfriend. As I came to the realization that I was being severely abused, I started ending our relationship slowly. First, I stopped talking to her so frequently by telling her that I had a group assignment that I needed to work on or that I had a paper due the next day. After doing that for several weeks, I told her that I needed some time to myself to think about things and after a month I broke things off between us. I told her that I was not going to do it anymore. She responded with the threat of “outing” me and threatened to send the nude photos of me that she had taken while I was showering to people that I knew.
You probably wonder why I endured such a difficult relationship. Why did I put up with it for so long? I had heard since childhood from the church and culture that no one would accept me because I was gay. I was heavily involved with my college’s gender and women’s society, and planned events like “Take Back the Night.” I knew what abusive relationships looked like and people often came to me for advice on how to get out of them. It’s different when it happens to you, though. I just wanted to be loved and accepted.
After escaping the traumatic relationship, a sorority sister who was an alumnus, started badgering me about what was going on. I innocently shared with her and thought nothing of it. Six months later, I noticed that my roommate started acting strange toward me. A week later, after returning to the dorm, my roommate locked the door behind me and confronted me. Apparently, my sorority sister had shared everything with many and it made its way to my roommate. I told my roommate the truth, that I was gay. The first thing that she said was, “You have been in this room with me. You have watched me change.” I quickly reassured her that I had no romantic feelings toward any of my sorority sisters and that they are like my literal siblings. Then, she felt disappointed that I had been through so much trauma and did not share it with her. She was mostly sad that I had to endure such pain on my own. She became most accepting of me and we remain friends to this day.
The sexual assault and abuse left me with post-traumatic stress disorder. I would have night sweats and terrors feared going to sleep. I slept very little…usually from 4:00 am to 8:30 am. I was triggered by almost everything around me. Seeing the same car that she used to drive, hearing certain words, even movies shown in class, caused me to have flashbacks of being raped. That winter, I began to fill my life with my friends and it brought health to my soul. Recovery from abuse is not linear… it’s more closely related to a roller coaster. I had days that I would wake from night terrors paralyzed, unable to get out of bed. I had others where my friends would drag me out of my room to keep my mind off things.
I was majoring in sociology and religion and decided to come out to my religion professor that winter. We were discussing my thesis, “A Feminist Theology of the Cross as Liberation.” It was empowering for me to study the liberation model and learn about the strength we gain through the resurrection of Christ. But, after my horrible experience of abuse, I found it difficult to read some of the material as it related to minorities, particularly women, and the struggle to gain liberation from abusive relationships when using theology that included the classic atonement models. I started talking to the professor about changing topics and shared about my abusive relationship. She was awesome. She asked if family and friends knew and said that I would need that support. Regardless of what happened, she said that I was strong and would get through it and that the liberation model would be helpful for healing. She met with me often to discuss things and to make sure that I wasn’t being triggered by the material and checked in on me often. After a lot of support from her and my counselor, I completed my thesis and my sociology and religion majors.
After sharing with the professor and with my counselor, I started attending their church. I went to the contemporary service. It was welcoming and affirming. I was reminded of God’s love for me.
December 2015, I came out to my friends. My best friend was the first to hear the news. She knew I was something, gay or asexual, but was not sure which. Then I came out to my other close friends. They knew that something that had been going on because I seemed different for the last two years, but they did not know I was having such a difficult time. They knewsomething was pulling me down. They were patiently waiting for me to share it. I remember them checking on me over winter breaks to see if I was okay. They were there for me even though they had no idea what kind of turmoil that I was experiencing. They cared for me and attempted to help me even when I did not know how to help myself. They were loving and very affirming.
Throughout my college career I attempted to make sense of my sexuality. I did a study during my senior year on the campus climate for LGBTQ+ students, primarily doing interviews with people involved in Campus Spectrum, my college’s LGBTQ+ alliance. I had been involved in the Gay Straight Alliance since freshman year supporting those who were out. There were only five people that I knew of that were “out” on campus and I wanted to know why. Being gay myself and being somewhat in the closet caused me to evaluate the campus climate and want to see why others believed that LGBTQ people weren’t out on campus. I interviewed people that were involved with Campus Spectrum and asked them questions about their understanding of the LGBTQ atmosphere on campus. I had been friends with them since freshman year, and I shared about myself because they were so open and honest with me. They kept my secret because they knew what it was like to be fearful of coming out. I also was vice president of the women and gender group. I found much overlap between those that were involved in Campus Spectrum and those within this women and gender group. Being around such open and affirming people allowed me to open up and feel confident in telling them who I was and who I wanted to love.
The July after graduation, I started talking to the woman who is now my fiancée, Boomie. We had been in the same sorority at the same college but were separated by five years. She was often an alumna for sorority rituals and events and we knew of one another through that. I had always had a crush on her and wanted to pursue her although I did not know if she was gay. I wasn’t out and being in the abusive relationship caused me not to. After we started talking, I knew that we shared many of the same interests and values and that we would get along well. However, I was slow to allow myself to be in a relationship again. The last one had left me broken and I worried that I would not be able to date her without negative flashbacks occurring and messing it up between us. However, after much prayer and serious discussion with her, we began a relationship in August. At the time that we started dating, I was living with my older brother. He had gotten a job in the same town my college was located in, and I was interning at a local church for the following summer and fall. There were many nights when I stayed over at Boomie’s and my brother would become very angry, saying that I was using his house as a storage unit. Although he was often angry at me for spending so much time away, he never knew exactly where I was staying, as I was still hiding my sexual orientation from my family. I loved being in Boomie’s presence and wouldn’t have done anything differently. I knew from early on that she was someone that I could see spending my life with.
In October, my mom called to ask if I was dating her. Since I had been living with my brother at the time, he must have shared. I felt no need to lie about it anymore and told my mother the truth. My mom explained that she was envisioning a different life for me and she cried, and cried, and cried. She did not say a lot during that conversation, but said that although she did not understand it, she wanted me to be happy.
In November of that same year, my dad’s response was very different. “You are going to go to hell. You need to go to counseling. We did not raise you this way.” A most unpleasant conversation via text message. He said that I had ruined his life and that he thought I was just being rebellious, once again. He would not talk to me face to face after that. One of my half-brothers offered his unsolicited opinion. “You have killed your father and ruined his life.” Then, he continued to tell me how much my father’s family hates me. I have not spoken to him since.
Although their reaction was horrible, it was not surprising. During my sophomore year, I tweeted that one of my favorite poets would be performing in a town nearby and that I wanted to go. The poet happens to be gay. My half-brother called a couple of minutes after that tweet to tell me that my dad and stepmother knew that I was gay and that they were both infuriated at me. He also said that they were cussing, yelling, and saying that I was demonic and that I had gone crazy.
When I became engaged, I decided that I would inform my dad before I let the world know on Facebook. I sent him a text but heard nothing for more than a day. When I called to see if he got the message, he replied, “I don’t know who you are anymore. We didn’t raise you this way.”
“Can’t you just be happy that I am happy?” I cried out.
Now he wants to get together to talk to me. He has hopes that he might “change my mind” and that I won’t be gay anymore. I assured him otherwise, but he says that he wants to try to talk some sense into me. It’s sad that my father, after all that we have been through, cannot accept me because of who I love. He treats me as if I have something seriously wrong with me—something that I could somehow spread to others. It is sad.
My mother continues to support me and all my endeavors and is very excited to help plan the wedding which will happen in July 2018. She has grown so much and has become more accepting of others by knowing that her own daughter is a part of the LGBTQ community. My father, however, will not discuss my sexual orientation or anything, and rarely communicates with me. Both my fiancée and I have tried reaching out to him, and the response is never different: there is no response at all. My older brother and I speak on occasion and he finds no fault in my being gay although we don’t really get along generally. My half-brothers don’t talk to me. I have tried reaching out and they do not respond. My stepmother pretends to be accepting of me, although past situations have made me weary of her.
Now I am employed by a human rights organization, working as an investigator of discrimination cases of race, age, and sexual orientation along with many other things. It is a perfect job for me because I am standing up for those who are persecuted. I used to think that being passive was better but, after studying the Bible and learning more about God and myself, I don’t think Jesus Christ was ever passive. Jesus actively opposed violence with non-violence and through the power of truth, evil was exposed for what it is. This active, non-violent opposition challenged the people surrounding Him, and even us today, to recognize the great power that comes from compassion and through living up to our God-breathed selves. In the same way that Jesus confronted the systematic evil during his time through the power of non-violent interactions, so should humanity act upon our call to stand against oppressive forces and not let others take advantage of our kindness and love for humanity. I have grown closer to God than ever and am excited about the future that I have alongside Him.
In September 2017, I returned to seminary. I had taken a leave of absence because of the PTSD that put me behind on my collegiate career. I had to take an “incomplete” class during my final semester and finished my last class in August 2016. My GPA ended up being a 3.74, and I am quite proud to have gotten through the abuse with a decent GPA. I am really enjoying my studies now.
This crazy, difficult, amazing, joy-filled journey in life has taught me many things. The first, and the most important, is that people were created to live in community with other people. God is three persons and each of those persons are equally important as the other. We are called to be in relationships with the people around us…regardless. The great Leslie Knope once said that no one achieves anything alone, and I believe that to be true. People need one another to live fulfilled and whole lives. I have experienced firsthand that we flourish when we love and connect with others in the way that Jesus did.
The second lesson that I have learned is to volunteer as often as you can. The more that I give myself to helping the community around me, the more I start to find myself. By involving yourself in the liberation of those around you, you discover who you were meant to be as you treat others in the same way that Jesus does.
The third is to draw closer to God. It is a safe place where love resides. There have been many times that I have listened to certain church voices that tell me that I am not loved or accepted by God. I urge you to search further and to find the greatness and all-encompassing love of the Creator. There is no person that can outrun or outgrow the deep and broad love that God offers. I am challenged daily as I learn about new aspects of God. Advocate. Advocate. Advocate. Jesus works daily as our Advocate and it is our duty and privilege to advocate for all of God’s creation. Take care of yourself, of others, and of the planet.
Having role models and advisors is very important. Look to them when making large life decisions for they can see things that you sometimes cannot. Allow close friends and those that you trust to give you advice. We sometimes find ourselves in situations where our judgment is clouded, and we need an outside party to help us see the correct point of view, especially when it comes to abuse. It is difficult to point out situations of abuse when we are in them and therefore we need others to share wisdom and love when we need it most.
Lastly, I have learned that it is okay to not be okay. Each of us have times where we carry burdens that cripple us. It is not God’s intention for us to carry burdens alone, but for us to join alongside one another. A weight that might crush us if we carry it alone would become weightless if many people carry it together. Ask for help when you need it. Don’t feel as if you will put too much pressure on others. There are people surrounding you that want to help relieve your burdens and would be happy to do so.
After all the things that have happened to me and all the things that I have done, I have truly found happiness. God is the ultimate source of our joy and He aches for each of us to live the life that He imagines. This life is one where we fully accept ourselves and love the unique craftsmanship of the Creator. Do not allow the world to convince you that God did not breathe life into your bones.
Excerpt from Who Do You Say I Am? Personal Life Stories Told by the LGBTQ Community, by Carol Marchant Gibbs
Saturday, I participated in the Baltimore Book Festival. The day was filled with people expressing their gratitude for my book and their hope for healing in their communities. Parents shared stories about their children, as did many from the LGBTQ community. I spoke to pastors and other church leadership who are trying to reconcile this in their churches. It was beautiful. 
first book event on Sunday, September 30, at Ascension Lutheran Church , 7601 York Road, Towson, MD, at 4:00 pm.
As far as sexuality is concerned, we must always remember that we are made in God’s image and should never be ashamed of who we are. He loves us no matter what. Feel the freedom to question and explore, always remembering that we are loved.
By Sam and Leigh Erdman