In Good Faith: Young, Queer and Overcoming Fear
Gatlinburg, a small conservative town tucked away in the Smoky Mountains of Tennessee, promises visitors āwarm Appalachian hospitality.ā
Josh Gragg arrived as one out of hundreds of worshippers to partake in Shabbachā a three-day Christian youth conference. Though he had never seen so many churches within such close proximity, Gatlinburg was not totally dissimilar from his hometown of Hickory, North Carolina.
It was his third year attending the conference, but this time would be different.
Toward the end of the service, he was summoned by his youth pastor during an alter callā a practice in some Christian worship services where those who āneedā prayer engage in a display of commitment to Christ. He suspected that he had been brought forth due to speculations about his sexuality.
As live music cascaded through speakers and concert-like lights bathed attendees in color, the youth pastor drifted to Gragg, and began to baptize him in prayer. She started speaking in tongues and Gragg, in a sea of youth undergoing the same experience, joined in the chorus of cries that filled the auditorium.
Tears flowed and his legs went numb as an overwhelming sensation took hold. His knees buckled and he collapsed to the ground, where he would exist for the remainder of the service.
Trapped beneath the current of prayer, he awaited the wave of relief promised by his youth pastorā but it never arrived.
āAn Interesting Time Periodā
Gragg, a rising senior at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill majoring in computer science, realized he was queer around sixth grade. He thinks this could be due, in part, to his fleeting participation in the girlfriend-boyfriend arrangement common among elementary school children.
āI always remember wanting to have a girlfriend and stuff, but then feeling like it didnāt really work for some reason,ā he said.
In a school where gay jokes triumph and conservativism is the default, Gragg was beginning to come to terms with his identity. He was also a member of local non-denominational church, āOne80ā (formerly called āThe Favor Centerā), which he now describes āmanipulativeā and āculty.ā
He said that while he was a member, he had yet to be exposed to anything else and believed his churchās practices to be the norm.
āI had my youth pastor trying to curse demons out of me for being gay,ā he reflected. āIt was an interesting time period and I very much believed all of it.ā
In middle school, Gragg joined the football team despite having no interest in the sportā a move that he would later identify as an attempt to fit in with his male classmates. It was during that time he was exposed to the toxic masculinity hotbed that is the boyās locker room.
As the pressure to maintain a faƧade of masculinity mounted, he continued playing football through freshman year of high school.
āIt was a very unfitting environment for my true personality,ā he said recalling that he was constantly questioning how much of himself he should show.
This went on for a short while but a few years later Gragg would find himself with no option to conceal his identity.
He was outed his senior year of high school after a private lunchroom conversation made its way beyond cafeteria doors.
Carter Greene grew up in Hickory and is a rising junior at North Carolina State University. He has known Gragg since middle school but became friends with him around the middle of high school.
He enjoyed growing up in Hickory but said that the majority of people oppose homosexuality. Greene said that he knew life in Hickory was tough for Gragg because most people they were friends with during high school failed to accept his identity.
According to Greene, coming out in Hickory is a āhuge storyā that everyone is invested in.
āThere are three or four guys in our friend group that really stuck with him and accepted him for it,ā Greene shared.
Gragg referred to his years in the church as one of the darkest times of his life, describing intense preaching methods and pointed criticism of other churches.
He explained that his church viewed sexuality as a choiceā something that one can deviate from if they engage in prayer and other religious practices. Gragg said that there are people in his church who have admitted to feeling attracted to the same gender but claim to have gotten over it.
When Gragg was contemplating attending UNC, his youth pastor, who he described as a motherly figure to members of the youth group, suggested he attend Montreat Collegeā a Christian university an hour from Hickory. Her effort struck him as controlling, but it wasnāt her first attempt to dictate his fate.
During his final Shabbach Conference, she assigned him to a hotel room with younger church members, which Gragg posits is because she believed he would make romantic advancements toward male members his age.
It was during this trip that he began to frequently question his religion. Additionally, Gragg had been told that prayer would transform him and was disappointed to discover that it all seemed to be in vain.
āNothing was changing, and I was like āwhat the hell?āā Gragg recalled.
Though his relationship with faith was already strained, it intensified when he arrived at UNC.
Giving and Seeking Answers
During his second semester, Gragg enrolled in a class taught by Bart Ehrman, a renowned scholar who focuses on the New Testament and early Christianity. Although he refers to Ehrman as the best professor he has had, the class, which focuses on analyzing Christian texts, took a toll on his mental health.
He was not mentally prepared for some of the class content, which included discussions about historical contradictions within the Bible and was launched into a spiritual crisis.
āIt was a really big battle and Iām still trying to figure it all out. I donāt exactly know what I believe in,ā Gragg expressed.
Wrestling with the impact of this newfound knowledge on his lifelong belief system, he would call his mother during moments of distress. Despite his unwavering love for his parents, he found himself questioning why they raised him the way they did.
Gragg came out to his parents after his first Shabbach Youth Conference, where he experienced feelings of guilt and shame. He disclosed his sexuality with the hope that they would help āfix it.ā
āOf course, I never got any answers on how to fix it because here I am,ā he said with a laugh.
Coming out stories are typically associated with extreme responses: parents lamenting haplessly because their child is gay or conversely, embracing their child and showering them with endless affirmations.
This couldnāt have been further from reality for Gragg, who was simply told by his mother that he would get through it. He wasnāt chastised; he wasnāt championed.
He said that his parents did the best they could with what they knew and how they had been raised.
āNo one can blame them for stuff that they didnāt understand completely,ā Gragg explained.
After being outed, Gragg felt isolated and struggled to find relationships in his hometown, where openly gay people were scarce. So, he decided to download Tinder.
He began talking to Marco MagaƱa, a resident of Charlotte who said he typically had better things to do than respond to messages on dating apps. But Gragg seemed different.
The pair grew close, texting every day and eventually meeting for their first date, which consisted of poetry in the park.
āHe seemed like he had pretty much his whole plan for what he wanted to do,ā MagaƱa said. āAt least with school and what he was studying.ā
Most messages Gragg had received preceding his interaction with MagaƱa were sexual in nature, but it wasnāt like that with MagaƱa.
āWe hit it off on so many different levels. Through my relationship with him, I started to grow,ā Gragg said.
The connection has helped Gragg accept his identity and prepared him as he transitioned from Hickory to Chapel Hill. When MagaƱa first met Gragg, he said he had just begun his transition into the person he is now.
āHe talks about how he was really religious and more conservative mostly just by association because thatās what he grew up around, but when I met him, I didnāt really see that,ā MagaƱa remembered. āI think he had just started opening up and seeing other points of view and other perspectives.ā
At UNC, Gragg found himself surrounded by friends who fully embraced his identity and finally discovered the safe space that heād never had.
Reflecting on his years in Hickory, Gragg rarely contemplates how the gay jokes might have affected him. He contextualizes his parentsā ideology in light of their religious beliefs, concluding that their difficulty in fully understanding his identity is not mutually exclusive with their love for him.
He has empathy for those who outed him, citing the difficulties of high school and emotional immaturity. And he hurts for those who continue to conceal and suppress their sexuality.
Gragg thinks that he would like to believe in a higher power again eventually but for now, heās focused on believing in himself.