Berkley Center

The process of entering the gay club Голубая Устрица reminded me of a speakeasy from the 1920s. The bar is shrouded in secrecy and anonymity, but instead of being filled with roaring revelers, the atmospheric vibe was nothing short of depressing. Those who wish to party secure a password from a secure link on the club’s social networking site. Upon arriving at the club’s unmarked address (as many more visible clubs often fall victim to protesting arsonists), I was patted down by numerous security guards who were hired after two shooters opened fire on patrons last summer. Stepping through the threshold, I was greeted by strobe lights and pop music…and little else. I was one of four people in the entire establishment at midnight on a Friday evening. Nobody was dancing; rather, everyone was dispersed in various corners and eyed each other with suspicion. I ordered a Pepsi and settled in under the large "Tom of Finland" poster, bracing myself for an uneventful evening.

My gay club anecdote serves as a metaphor for LGBT (Lesbian/Gay/Bisexual/Transgender) life in Russia as a whole. Russian gays and lesbians tackle daily dangers which leave little time to take pride in their, as the Russian government puts it, “non-traditional lifestyle.” The Russian homosexual population—and even those perceived to be homosexual—do face true dangers, especially beatings and ostracization. Even as I write this article, several venues around St. Petersburg are under bomb threats due to movie screenings from the local LGBT film festival. However, as far as my experience goes, living as a gay man in Russia is no different than living as a gay man in southern Georgia. A Russian is in theory free to live his/her life to its fullest extent. Due to societal pressures, members of the Russian LGBT community must normally remain silent on the parts of their private lives concerning sexuality. These same societal pressures are exerted by my own community in my Georgia hometown. My mother wouldn’t be pleased with my sexual orientation, and neither would my host mother. My southern friends don’t know my sexuality, and neither do my Russian acquaintances. It’s not acceptable to speak about homosexuality in mercurial Peachtree City, Georgia or metropolitan St. Petersburg. Living as a gay man in Russia is much less of an adjustment than I originally thought. The simple fact is that many gays and lesbians lead double lives as they hide their true inclinations from those closest to them.

As I lead my double life, I’m beginning to dwell upon what implications this will have on my aspirations to the priesthood. I am currently discerning a life in the Society of Jesus, and I know one of my biggest challenges will be expressing my (what I believe to be God-given) sexuality in healthy, Christian ways. As a future priest, it is my calling to aid all people in creating a loving relationship with God. At times this call will allow me to be open about my sexuality, and other times I’ll need to remain silent. But I believe that my coming-of-age experiences in Georgia and my time in Russia will adequately prepare for my work ahead.

My biggest test with such discipline occurred when I taught English and German to children in Cheboksary, a city within the Russian Republic of Chuvashia. My English class and I were discussing American politics, and one boy raised a question about same-sex marriage. Without thinking, I voiced my support. A few hours later, after some of the children complained, I was summoned to speak with the director of the language camp. Apparently, I had breached Section 3 of Russia’s now infamous “gay propaganda bill” which prohibits “The spreading of information giving a distorted perception about the social equality between traditional and non-traditional sexual relations to minors.” Fortunately the director let me off with a warning, but I could have accrued heavy government fines. The same boy who raised the question in class knocked on my door that evening. He proceeded to come out to me. He asked me questions about gay American life in rapid-fire succession, and sadly I had to bear his look of rejection when I told him that I legally could say nothing.

Legally, I can’t talk to these kids about what they want to know. I can’t answer their questions about why they feel the way they do. But as a gay Christian, I can pray that they grow up in an accepting society.

Here’s to a brighter future.