Nothing Grows in Scorched Earth

The religious activists have gone home, all the posters have finally come down and the campus debate over gay rights seems to have returned to its normal simmer. National is old news. But Coming Out of Homosexuality Day is part of a larger series of battles that has raged on for more than 20 years.

The war between gays and lesbians and their allies on one side, and fundamentalist Christians on the other, has caused a lot of casualties. Activists with noble intentions have had our compassion and openness tested by this struggle. But the recent panel discussion sponsored by Harvard Law School's Society for Law, Life and Religion made me take stock of some of my basic opinions--while politically and morally I still believe gays and lesbians are right, in our immediate judgments we may have been wrong.

I attended the Coming Out of Homosexuality Day panel on Oct. 10, partly to protest and partly out of a real sense of curiosity--who were these people hoping to "cure" us? I had been told that all the tickets for the event had sold out on the first day, so I arrived 45 minutes early. The courtroom was completely empty save for two pleasant-looking men in suits. We chatted for a moment and I learned that they were Peter LaBarbera, the publisher of an anti-gay journal, and Bob Knight of the Family Research Council, one of the nation's largest religious right organizations. My heart began to pound as I quietly removed the "Queer Harvard" button from my backpack, hoping not to tip my hand for a few moments.

What these men represent to me is terrifying, the opposite of everything I've worked for. I grew up as a gay man at a liberal, mostly Jewish high school in Los Angeles, and have worked with gay rights groups in some form since tenth grade.

It is probably difficult for someone who has not been there to understand the real enmity between gay activists and the Religious Right. We demonize each other in our fundraising letters and in our speeches, and we caricature one another in our politics. From the time I came out, I always saw the battle as a tiny band of good people trying to halt the huge, powerful "other" on a thousand different fronts.

Ironically, the Right sees things exactly the same way. Knight asked me what club on campus I worked for. When I told him BGLSTA, he frowned and said, "I knew that. Your manner seemed too serious." Though he grew more hostile, I could not ignore how pleasant he was at the beginning, when he was just a person.

As the conference was about to start, about a dozen of our allies were stranded outside without tickets, although seats were clearly available. I mentioned this to Peter and he helped me get them in. "The more the merrier," he said. But I was puzzled--why had this man helped me? We were supposed to be enemies.

After the panel discussion, two or three men who had been introduced as "ex-gays" came up to talk to me. They claimed to have been relieved of their homosexuality through the power of prayer. "I did not want to leave the lifestyle either," one told me, "until the spirit of God entered me. Jesus Christ is speaking to me through you."

These men saw the world through the prism of evangelical Christianity. They could not conceive of a moral order outside the literal word of the Bible--I can't imagine one within it. On one level what they were saying frightened and disturbed me. But that did not obscure the fact that they seemed to be genuinely concerned, sincere people who believed they were speaking with compassion. Misguided yes; dangerous, certainly; but evil like I had been taught? I had to hesitate.

The tendency for gays and lesbians to demonize our opponents, like similar tendencies in all groups, is partly understandable. For every civil right we have won in two decades, gay men and women have had to fight bitterly against an organized, aggressive opposition. The tremendous anger and frustration we feel are often carried over to those who have frustrated us. But confronted with the real people on the other side of the divide, it was harder for me to condemn them. I cannot agree with their choices or their opinions, but I could imagine them being committed parents and good citizens. One couple who spoke reminded me of my grandparents--bewildered and upset that their child was gay, but always loving.

Many gay activists, and probably many religious activists, will be put off by a message of conciliation. In a country where politicians shun bipartisanship, ordinary people settle disputes with lawsuits and college campuses are marked by hyper-sensitivity on all sides, understanding is hardly in vogue. But without it, any victory, for any group, will surely be a bitter one. As a friend of mine says, "Nothing grows in scorched earth."

I will continue to fight passionately for what I believe in and I will continue to attack the beliefs I find abhorrent, but I will not attack the people who hold them. If LaBarbera, Knight and their friends can do the same, maybe someday we can peacefully leave the battlefield without destroying each other.

Adam A. Sofen '01 lives in Straus Hall and is vice-chair of the BGLTSA.