Choosing to Live Authentically

Reflecting on identity, community and belonging during Pride Month

Kathryn shares her personal journey of identity, resilience and self-acceptance, and how that journey has shaped her experience at Bronson.

Kathryn’s Story

When I started kindergarten in my designated schoolroom, I had no idea I would be spending the next 13 years of my education being homeschooled. I had no idea this was done to shield me from the “corruption” of the world. Most certainly, I had no idea I would turn out to be the type of person my parents were desperately trying to shield me from.

Looking back, I was honestly an easy child to deal with. The oldest of five children, with two younger sisters and the youngest being twin boys, I had a lot of responsibility at a young age. I took it in stride, realizing now the parentification I undertook before I knew what that meant. My life revolved around the family unit, and being the oldest I was told that my actions directly affected and influenced all those younger than me. Because of this, I developed a very strict view of myself. I had to be perfect, or as perfect as possible, so I wasn’t the reason my siblings sinned.

Realizing I Was Different and Trying to Be What Others Expected

Imagine my surprise when I realized at the age of 11 that I was a lesbian. I didn’t even know what a “lesbian” was at that moment, but I knew I liked girls the way other girls talked about boys. I could tell it was different because none of my other friends talked about girls, and so my mouth never opened. I knew it wasn’t safe to talk about it; I knew from a young age this was considered “sinful.” This dominated the next seven years of my life as I poured myself into a deeply religious culture and mindset. I prayed to God to please take away my desires, let me find a good husband and have children that I could homeschool. I was 13 years old.

Speedrun through my teens and I was everything my parents wanted. I played volleyball on a Christian homeschool team, sang in my church choir throughout middle and high school, and attended Sunday morning, evening and Wednesday youth group services. I took extra classes in high school and even attended college classes to get dual credits at Bethel College in Mishawaka, Indiana. I took a pledge of purity after attending “purity classes” when I was 13, promising my mother in a peer group of other girls like me that I would save myself for my future husband. I didn’t realize then that none of these things would change who I was, it only masked it for a time.

I didn’t know it, but later learned my Grammy had suspicions. I showed no interest in dating or boys, and I remember her asking me about it sometimes. I always told everyone who asked that I was “focusing on my relationship with Christ” and trusted God to bring me my husband when the time was right. I even mentioned that I had heard in prayer not to worry about such things until I was at least 18 years old. I guess this raised a flag for her, but I’m thankful she never mentioned it to my parents. She was a silent ally I didn’t know I had, even if she didn’t “agree.”

Meeting My Wife and Starting Over

It was my senior year of high school when I met my wife. I was young, not quite 18 yet, and wasn’t looking for a relationship. It didn’t happen right away. We met through mutuals in my church. She was actively involved in ministry and we both had very similar experiences with God. We very quickly developed a friendship through our mutual faith, and by the time I graduated high school we were almost inseparable. Except, I was headed off to Grace College and Theological Seminary in the middle of Indiana that August, and she wasn’t. I went anyway. I now understand what they mean when they say, “distance makes the heart grow fonder.”

I knew I had feelings for her, but she was adamant that she was straight and she was just waiting for her husband whenever God would bring him to her. It’s important to reference there is an age gap, and so she had lived a bit more life than I had. People questioned her about a husband and future kids and plans, but she didn’t have an answer. As we got closer throughout my time at Grace College, we became magnets to one another, and it got to the point where we had to have a conversation. Denial wasn’t in the cards anymore; it was horrendously obvious to us and everyone else. Through tears and soul crushing confessions, we acknowledged our attraction to one another.

In that same conversation, we knew the persecution that was coming for us, so we made a decision. We went from friends to fiancé overnight and didn’t give anyone else the space to try to tear us apart. I dropped out of Grace since being in a homosexual relationship violated the terms of my contract with the school and moved into her apartment where we lived for the next six months.

I don’t remember a lot about those six months. I do remember our wedding in a courthouse in the city I grew up in. I know we were stalked, cut off, isolated and harassed until we made it to Kalamazoo. I know I lost every single childhood friend in one fell swoop. I remember being told that I couldn’t be around my siblings anymore for fear that I would abuse them in perverted ways or teach them sinful behaviors. I remember my wife being framed as the predator who corrupted me, even though I was the one pursuing the relationship. I remember how crushing all of that was. I was 19 years old.

Finding My Community in Kalamazoo and at Bronson

I’m 28 now, married for nine years to my wife, and thriving in Kalamazoo. It’s been an uphill battle our entire marriage, but it’s been worth it. I look back on that version of myself with so much compassion, understanding that I didn’t know what I didn’t know, and I am not responsible for the way others around me react to my existence.

19-year-old me had no idea where I would be now, but the peace and acceptance I’ve found in this community, and here at Bronson, is more than I could have ever thought possible. It’s because of organizations like Bronson, and groups like the Pride ERG, that my story is more than just a tragedy.

I share this because I want others to know they aren’t alone in this, that there are people who have been through that difficult transition. The process of growth and self-acceptance was hard, harder than I could have anticipated, but so worth it in the end.