Coming Out and My Breakup With God
By: Joyline Maenzanise
Tags: Religion, Christianity, LGBTQ, God, Coming Out

During this period of studying, I came to accept my sexuality. I had become aware of my attraction for women in my late teens. Back then, I had not been able to put a name to those feelings. How could I when I was living in an environment where the only times homosexuality was mentioned was when pastors would remind the church that it was a sin or when community members would mock anyone perceived to be homosexual?

In Cape Town, my attraction to women was harder to ignore. Feelings of guilt arose, and I found myself praying to God to deliver me from such a life of sin. For someone whose life resembled a battlefield, I didn’t want my sexuality to be the reason my prayers for a breakthrough would go unanswered. The feelings didn’t go away, and I came to a place where I accepted that I was attracted to women; I was gay.

In my final year of studies, I mustered the courage to come out to my siblings who were in different countries. Before emailing them, I had received helpful coming-out tips from a college friend. Sending an email was convenient because it was safer; one is never sure of family’s reaction after coming out. There were mixed reactions to my sexuality, but I was glad to have let my family know that if I ever talked of marriage, they shouldn’t be shocked that it would be to a woman. I wasn’t looking for their approval anyway, I simply wanted them to know.

Feelings of guilt arose, and I found myself praying to God to deliver me from such a life of sin. For someone whose life resembled a battlefield, I didn’t want my sexuality to be the reason my prayers for a breakthrough would go unanswered.

I graduated with honors despite crawling toward the finishing line. At 30 years of age, I earned my first degree. What’s more, the company at which I had embarked on a four-month internship during the final year of studies had offered me permanent employment. Praise God!

Finally, my life would now achieve some semblance of stability.

Finally, I would never need to worry about going to bed on an empty stomach.

As an immigrant, all I needed was my work visa and the job, which I got at a time when many are struggling to find employment. But once I started at the company, the door slammed shut faster than I could get to a place of feeling at home there, being genderqueer and all. I was devastated. What once made sense because I believed it was all part of God’s plans stopped making the slightest sense. What had I done? What had I not done? Was my faith not big enough? But the Bible said that even with faith as small as a mustard seed, I would tell mountains to move into the sea and it would be done. Was I born to suffer?

For the first time, I saw my life as a game of chess between Light and Dark, where the rules were to keep moving the pawn about as the players pleased without a real path to victory. I was the pawn, and now I wanted out of the game — I wanted to break up with God. I didn’t want to be like Job, who suffered because God wanted to prove to Satan that come hell or high water, Job’s love for him was steadfast. I no longer wanted to live my life in fear of what would happen if I ever lost my faith in God amid the supposedly ongoing spiritual wars. I suffered immensely with faith. I would bear suffering immensely without the faith.

What once made sense because I believed it was all part of God’s plans stopped making the slightest sense.

It didn’t help that after coming out to relatives, one of them, someone who had sexually abused me, had the gall to tell me my suffering was a punishment for being gay. Those words were as hurtful as they were hypocritical. Another relative sent me videos of “ex-lesbians who had found Jesus and reformed” without ever asking about my welfare or offering help.

Instead, all I got was a reminder that God’s love may not be as unconditional as I had been taught to believe, a clear reminder that the church isn’t a sanctuary for ALL.

For the first time, I saw my life as a game of chess between Light and Dark, where the rules were to keep moving the pawn about as the players pleased without a real path to victory. I was the pawn, and now I wanted out of the game — I wanted to break up with God.

After breaking up with God and dissociating myself from religion, I became more aware of other folks who were angry or hurt and subsequently leaving religion. Since I became vocal about my anger towards the God whose omnipotent existence I staunchly believed in, I started losing connections. Some folks — Christians — got distant because they couldn’t bear my expressions of anger and questioning that what we have all been taught is sacrosanct and, therefore, above criticism.