Blinded to the hurt, because it didn’t affect me

grant.shimmin@fairfaxmedia.co.nz

Make no mistake, being brought up completely in line with your gender identity/sexual proclivity is an example of privilege.

It’s an accident in a sense, an accident of assumption, because how could anyone know at the moment of your birth, or through your earliest years?

In the majority of cases, those assumptions, most of which probably aren’t even thought through, by parents, whanau, society, are on the mark. Fortunately. But not all of them, not by a long shot.

Putting this another way, I’m privileged never to have confronted questions about the sexuality or gender identity assumed on my behalf, never to have wrestled with whether I might be gay, or whether or not I actually identify as male.

In the same order, I’m not, and I do, and I’ve always been comfortable with both. That’s as much an example of privilege as being born white and middle class.

Wallabies rugby star Israel Folau wasn’t born white, and I can’t comment on his family’s socio-economic situation then, though he’s understandably well off now. He’s worked hard to marry his obvious physical advantages, size and speed, to some of the most admired rugby/ league skills on the planet. Fair play to him for that.

But I suspect that on the gender/sexuality question, he’s just like I am, privileged. He’s never had to confront the assumptions about those aspects of who he is, never had to contemplate telling his family he was gay.

Unlike Welsh referee Nigel Owens, who said earlier this year he’d actually asked a doctor about ‘‘chemical castration’’ when wrestling with questions about his sexuality, hoping it would help him deal with the ‘‘sexual urges’’ he was feeling.

He went on to describe his ongoing guilt at having left his parents a note saying he couldn’t go on, knowing the upset that imagining they might not see him alive again had caused them.

Privilege has come up a fair bit this week in the dizzying whirl of responses to Folau’s comment, in answer to a question on his Instagram feed, about God’s plan for gays. As you undoubtedly know by now, he said it was ‘‘hell … unless they repent of their sins’’.

I wrote previously about how privilege means ‘‘never having to check yourself’’ and I hold to that. Sometimes it also means being able to say an important issue is ‘‘not my problem’’ and carrying on without considering the consequences to others.

There’s been a bit of that in some of the casual Pakeha responses, along the lines of ‘‘believing in God is like believing in the Easter Bunny so why would you even worry about Israel Folau’s comment?’’

Remind me, whose ancestors was it who foisted these puritanical beliefs, which have caused deep hurt to so many within them, on Polynesian communities in the first place?

I’m a first-generation Kiwi, but this is my problem too. Though possibly not for the reason posited in the previous paragraph.

It’s my problem because I was taught to believe exactly what Israel Folau believes on this subject, and it took me decades to genuinely see how wrong it was.

Not that I spoke out in support of those beliefs much at all, though I have written in the past of shamefully referring to homosexuality as ‘‘this affliction’’ in a one-on-one conversation with a colleague when I was in my early twenties.

But I do know, within the conservative belief system I grew up in, being gay, or lesbian, was considered sinful, something to be repented of. Transgender? It hadn’t even crept onto the fringes of the discussion.

I know of multiple instances in South Africa of gay Christian men marrying according to the old ‘‘marriage is between one man and one woman’’ maxim, suppressing who they were for their beliefs. I don’t think I’ve heard of a situation where that ended well, despite the sincerity of the participants.

In short, I understand how easy it is, when you have the privilege of knowing exactly who you are, to blindly accept a belief that for others is tantamount to torture, because really, it doesn’t affect you. You do it sincerely, don’t get me wrong, but it’s not a hardship, because who you are is on the supposedly ‘‘right’’ side of it, and you don’t put yourself in the shoes of those torn apart by the physical and psychological struggles it causes.

I’m glad I know now that the Bible doesn’t teach that homosexuality is a sin. I’m grateful for the writing of people like progressive American pastor John Pavlovitz, whose recent blog post in which he wrote that ‘‘God transcends a single gender identity - God is by nature trans-gender’’ was genuinely eye-opening.

But in truth, I’d already come to the conclusion that a loving God who would reject people for living according to the way he made them is a contradiction in terms.

Some Christians argue people are gay, lesbian, transgender, by choice. Because of course you’d willingly choose to go through all that heartache, wouldn’t you?

I don’t go to church much now, and what I believe couldn’t be described as settled, but I know love, kindness, compassion, empathy, respect is at the heart of who we’re supposed to be.

And I don’t believe for a moment LGBTQI people need to repent. I need forgiveness, from them, for accepting what I did without deep scrutiny. I’m deeply sorry.

I think Israel Folau is sincere, and walking away from rugby for the sake of his faith, as he says he would do, would demonstrate that. But I hope he doesn’t. I hope he realises he’s wrong, makes amends, and uses his big platform to preach inclusion and acceptance. I’d call that a result from where we are now.