Believers

Jehovah’s Witnesses hang out at every corner near the medical center where I went for a routine blood draw. I watched for a while and saw the many ways people cringed, looked away or pretended not to see them.

Many years ago I had a lover who had been reared as a Jehovah’s Witness. She was dragged along with her parents as they went knocking on doors, being rejected over and over, being yelled at, having the door slammed in their faces, or seeing people inside their houses, hiding or refusing to open the door as her mother and father knocked and waited. Then when she realized she was Queer, her parents insisted she needed conversion therapy. She tried it and felt deeply traumatized by it. When it failed to work, her parents declared she was dead to them. 

I think about how powerful a belief has to be, to make someone reject their own child. I think of all the Queer people I know who have experienced that kind of rejection. I think about my own beliefs and values, the ways they have influenced my choices, my parenting and grand-parenting.