What Price, Truth?

My family's present financial situation is bleak, to say the least - as I'm sure so many are today. With two kids and extremely limited income, we've been playing eenie-meeny-miney-moe with our bills for way longer than I'm comfortable with, and things are going to catch up to us pretty quickly.

And as I have yet to find anyone who will compensate me on a monthly basis for simply being so damn awesome, I've been in dire need of a paying job for some time now. Unfortunately, opportunities have been less than prolific, even with my blasting a resume from here to Timbuktu and back. So I decided it was time to take a different approach, and began Googling psychologists' offices which deal mostly in adolescents (my target demographic once I'm through school & licensed). I sucked up my courage - and my pride - and started cold-calling them in hopes of finding an open position somewhere for which I would qualify. Lo and behold, the very first one on the list just happened to have a clerical position open! Thrilled, I submitted my resume and waited (not so) patiently for a phone call, then arranged an interview and began my research of the firm and its members.

Please understand, I was so excited. Like, happy-dance-around-the-living-room excited. (Which is no easy feat for a semi-crippled voluptuous goddess, I assure you!) Not only was I going to interview for a position I knew I could do with both arms tied behind my back, but it would also provide a great observation opportunity relevant to my studies and future career. Sadly my excitement was not to last however, once I began to dig into the backgrounds of - and services offered by - the therapists at this location.

First, I noticed all the religious affiliations held and lauded by many of the psychiatrists, psychologists, and counselors in this practice. Okay, no biggie. I'm cool with all religions, as long as they are cool with me. Drilling down a bit, I realized they were all with the more 'fundamentalist' types of Christian churches and groups, which worried me. But in the spirit of being non-judgmental (and a touch desperate), I decided I would give them the benefit of the doubt.

After all, this could be one of those awesome instances where the Universe places me in a specific environment in order to educate others about the LGBT community and the common misconceptions associated with it, right? I mean, it's happened before and been totally worth it. But then I got down to one specific counselor's bio that stopped me cold.

See, each bio listed that specific therapist's specialties, such as family & marriage counseling, ADHD, etc. On this counselor's page, however, was a specialty that literally turned my stomach. Right there in the middle of the paragraph were words I have fought against time and again. Words that have led to the death of too many young people, and the hatred of an entire culture:

"unwanted same-sex attraction"

Further research showed the links on their website connected to other anti-gay pages and sentiments. I felt numb. Sick. Here was a place that was finally interested in hiring me to do a job I'm damn good at, in a field I'm devoting my life to, with a salary that would ease so many of our troubles.

And they encouraged and openly practiced reparative therapy. 

You would think my decision would have been simple, swift and final at that point, given my beliefs and dedicated activism. But it wasn't - not by a long shot. Old demons that I had long considered exorcised rose up from the depths to torment me once more... 

This will feed your children, they said. 

Are you really going to let your 'lifestyle choice' keep you from providing for your family, they sneered. 

What kind of mother are you, that you'd put yourself and your own comfort level above your children's needs...

Selfish, sinful woman...God is testing you, and you're failing...You don't deserve those kids - you won't even take care of them when a way is practically handed to you...All because you want to be gay and pretend it's a valid lifestyle...For shame...shame...

On and on it went. My interview was scheduled for the next morning; and all night, this long-forgotten, internalized homophobia turned me inside out. I did not sleep. I did not rest. I could not get rid of the litany of judgment playing in my head, nor could I escape the guilt that was threatening to consume me. 

Finally, around 6am, I decided I would just call and leave a message for the woman with whom I scheduled the interview, informing her I had a few important questions to ask before I came in. Somehow I was hoping she could explain it away, even as I knew there was no other explanation for what I had seen. But as my one of my favorite authors (Laurell K. Hamilton) famously writes, "Sometimes hope is a lying bitch."

Yet leaving that voice mail gave me a modicum of courage...enough to hang on to that I began to fight back those demons - timidly at first, then with more and more strength as I remembered.

I remembered the reason I had come out for the second time at the late age of 30, with two small children in tow and a life in shambles. Why I risked rejection on all sides and the certainty of breaking my parents' hearts. I remembered why I was willing to destroy so much to live an out, open, authentic life:

My children.

I could not expect them to be honest with me and themselves as they grew into adults, if I were not willing to do the same for them. And once I took that brave move, facing my detractors head-on, I was motivated to help others on their similar journeys - to help them fight back their own demons. To walk with their heads held high in the midst of a suppressive culture. To not be afraid to stand up for what is right - even if it means sacrifice along the way, because it always does.

What would I tell my children later on in life if I took this job and pretended to be something I'm not? How could I expect them to stand up for what they believe, when I was giving in and allowing myself to be stifled and struck silent for the sake of the Almighty Dollar? And my future patients...what was I to tell them when they came to me for guidance, faced with the same type of dilemma? Give in? Give up? Realize we cannot win, and accept not only being openly treated as less-than, but submitting to it willingly?

Hell no.

The moment I thought those words, my stomach did another little jump - this time out of pride, not fear. This time because I felt the full weight of the emotion washing over me...crashing over me in waves of gratitude. How close I had come to betraying my own truth; to surrendering all the values and morals I have worked so hard to teach my children and show them by example.

Hand shaking, I picked up my phone and dialed that number one more time. It all happened so fast, but here's the gist of that voice mail (and yes, I had a cheat sheet for the orgs):

"Hello, Ms. 'X'. This is Jeni again. I left you a voice mail earlier, but have not yet heard back from you. To be completely honest, after doing further research on your practice, I have come to the conclusion that this position would not be a good match for me. You see, at least one of your counselors lists reparative therapy under her special services - treating 'unwanted same-sex attraction'? And I have to say, seeing that in a licensed, secular, for-profit psychiatric office is disturbing, to say the least - especially when it's common knowledge and public record that the American Academy of Pediatrics, the American Association for Marriage and Family Therapy, the American Counseling Association, American Medical Association, American Psychiatric Association, American Psychoanalytic Association, American Psychological Association, American School Counselor Association, National Association of Social Workers, and the Pan American Health Organization have all deemed this so-called conversion therapy not only completely ineffective, but incredibly harmful to the mental health of the patient. And as an out, proud, gay woman, I just cannot bring myself to take blood money from a practice that so willfully ignores every single authoritative entity in its field, to the detriment of its patients. I will not be attending the interview this morning. You just have a great day, now."

I hung up the phone, still shaking from the adrenaline. What did I just do? Did I seriously just tell off the one place that has called me back from my umpteen resume submissions and with which I essentially had a job in the bag?

I sure the hell did. And I'd do it again. 

How about you?