Cator Sparks (pronouns: he/him), white board president of LGBTQ youth organization We Are Family, discusses his life as a gay man and his volunteer and professional work. He describes growing up in a liberal family in Atlanta, Georgia, and his difficulties and successes in high school. Sparks attended the College of Charleston in the early 1990s and speaks of coming out in Charleston into an exciting and accepting environment, then detailing his experiences in the rave scene. Along with rave venues, he describes gay bars including Treehouse, A.C.'s, and The Arcade. He discusses his volunteer work with neighborhood associations in the Cannonborough-Elliotborough neighborhood in Charleston and Harlem in New York City. Sparks performed in drag in Atlanta as Spectra Gramm, one of his performances during the Olympics being televised in France, where he soon went to study abroad. Back in Atlanta, he enrolled in American College, finishing his degree in fashion marketing in London. It was there he discovered dandyism, and he speaks of his conversion to it from rave fashion, defining what dandyism means to him, the effect it had on his life, and how it can educate others. He emphasizes how he values working with LGBTQ youth and his experiences volunteering with the Harvey Milk High School in New York City and with We Are Family in Charleston. Sparks describes the impact the 2016 Presidential election had on him, prompting his social action and recaps his professional life, including a description of working in Jeffrey, a high-end New York shoe store started by Jeffrey Kalinksy of Charleston, his freelance writing and his future plans of becoming a life coach. Photograph credited to Carolina Knopf.
Jayson Gulick (pronouns: He/They) speaks of the challenges and satisfactions of his growing up, discovering his gender and sexual truths, and embracing both trans masculine and androgynous identities. Born in Wheaton, IL, into a Catholic family that faced prejudice from the Protestant majority, he moved with his family to Charleston when he was in the fifth grade. Having discovered and defined himself as trans by searching out information on the internet, he delayed coming out, feeling that the move to the Lowcountry would provide an appropriate opportunity. Experiences in public school and Catholic school convinced him to delay the announcement, however; he told his family just as a friend in Catholic school was denouncing Gulick for posing as a male on social media. Accepted by his parents and one sister, and rejected by another who had become fundamentalist, Gulick was out and visible at Wando High School, getting support from some staff but not others. He describes an attempt by the school to censor a student interview on the topic, noting how he and others posted it on YouTube instead. Gulick then describes his experiences at the College of Charleston, speaking of his good fortune of having previously legally changed his name, thus not having to experience being called by his dead name, as happened to some of his peers. He describes clandestine meetings of other trans students on campus (called T-Time) and some of their unwillingness and fear to have their identities known. Noting how therapy, top surgery, and association with We Are Family have been extremely beneficial, Gulick describes his connection with androgyny, his dislike of sexual assumptions about him by others, and how affirming participation in Charleston Pride events has been. Torn between being a teacher and a guidance counselor, he has decided on the latter, to help spare others from having to undergo experiences similar to his. Since South Carolina does not offer specific gender and sexual protections, he regrets that he may have to go elsewhere to fulfill that profession. The interview ends on a positive note with Gulick commenting that people just a few years younger than he are accepting on a broad array of gender and sexuality issues.
K. J. Ivery (pronouns: He/Him/His), the first openly trans officer with the Charleston Police Department, discusses growing up, coming into his sexuality and gender identity, schooling, family relations and a variety of other topics. A Charleston native, Ivery grew up in a religious family where sexual non-conformity was not encouraged, and in a city where one faced further discrimination for being both Black and queer. He experienced difficulties with his parents after identifying as bisexual in middle school. Later identifying as gay, Ivery had a girlfriend in high school. He speaks of using the internet to find information and peers while in school, having attended Charles Towne Academy and later the Academic Magnet High School. He found the latter place very accepting, despite not being permitted to start a Gay-Straight Alliance, which he nevertheless did, using a different name to mask it. Identifying as trans-masculine, he discusses how he didn't come out to his family until he was identified in the Post & Courier as an openly transgender police officer. He began to investigate this part of his identity while attending the University of South Carolina, in Columbia, where he again was very active in its Gay-Straight Alliance. Ivery was impressed with Columbia's Harriet Hancock Center, and he discusses the arbitrariness and social constructs of gender, speaks of the "awesome things about... identifying as queer" and expresses delight in not being trapped in the limitations of being a cis-gender male, while also discussing the stud/femme roles prevalent in some lesbian communities. Having majored in criminology, he returned to Charleston in 2012 and immediately began working with the Charleston Police Department, which he lauds for its openness and high standards, and which adapted easily to his transitioning. On the force, he first worked in West Ashley neighborhoods before moving to the tourist districts downtown, while serving as an LGBT liaison to the community, which he describes as cliquish, and stratified along economic, racial and even geographic lines. He has worked with We Are Family, the Alliance for Full Acceptance (helping to administer the Trans Love Fund), Charleston Area Trans Support (CATS), and the Charleston YOUth Count, as well as founding a trans-masculine support and social group. He describes his relationship with his wife, Sam Diamond, the marriage ceremony they created and which their families attended, and how society looks at and presumes it understands the dynamics of their interracial marriage. He contrasts his spirituality compared to his family's rigid religious beliefs, voicing his respect for them and their views and noting the growing acceptance by his parents and siblings. Before concluding he also addresses gentrification in Charleston, specifically in regard to his grandparents' home on Line Street, his attendance at an early Charleston Pride Parade, his social life, and the advancements and progress of the LGBTQ community.
DeLesslin George-Warren (pronouns: He/Him/They/Theirs) speaks of his life as a queer member of the Catawba Indian Nation and his work for social justice, through both direct action and performance art. The son of a white father, who worked in health care and later became a private consultant, and a Catawba mother, an attorney working with the tribe for federal recognition, he was called "Roo" from childhood on. Growing up in Rock Hill, SC, he felt a "dual consciousness" attending a conservative Christian school while being part of a very liberal family in which he was expected to find his own truths. He started volunteering at the cultural center on the Reservation in high school, but did not reclaim his Catawba heritage or come out as a gay man until he attended college, eventually realizing that? "liberation as a queer person is tied to the liberation of my community." At Vanderbilt University, he pursued musical studies and also worked to establish gender-neutral bathrooms on campus. From 2014 to 2017, in AmeriCorps, he lived in Washington, DC. In museums there, as a guide and cultural interpreter, he often took patrons by surprise, sometimes making them angry, when he gave more nuanced and truthful version of American history as it involved indigenous people; being pale and blue-eyed, he defies cultural stereotypes. With a grant from Running Strong for American Indian Youth, he returned to the Catawba Reservation in 2017 and became involved in projects reviving the Catawba language and focusing on food sustainability. In the interview, George-Warren speaks of being accepted in the Catawba community as a gay man, despite its affiliation with the? Church of the Latter Day Saints; describes the "briar patch" nature of Catawba family relationships; notes the historical matriarchy of the tribe; sums up the impact of the loss of federal tribal recognition and then regaining it; mentions a "strain of queerness" in Catawba history; and discusses his identity. He recalls a PRIDE march in Washington, DC, wherein he and others protested the sponsorship of corporations, some involved in actions on Indian lands; and expresses gratitude for being born queer, beyond the norm, to free himself from society's expectations. It's "liberating to be Catawba and also be queer," he believes. He perceives a need for solidarity in the LGBTQ community and notes, "I've seen more anti-Native sentiment in LGBT spaces than I have seen explicit anti-LGBT sentiment in my Catawba community."??
TZiPi Radondsky (pronouns: She/Her) speaks of her life and its many changes, her search for spiritual enlightenment and her work for a better world. Born into an "ortho-conservative" Jewish family in Boston, she grew up committed to Judaism, but cut herself off from it as a young woman. She attended college, got pregnant, married, and had two daughters. Her husband, a Catholic who converted to Judaism, joined her father in the women's sportswear business. When unionization prompted the transfer of the business to South Carolina, the family moved to Aiken, SC. She divorced, and began a friendship with a woman in Aiken, soon realizing it was love. She and her new partner were part of a closeted group of women in the area, and Radonsky felt frustrated that no one aided her in her pursuit to understand her evolving self. She attended a gay bar in Augusta, GA, began taking courses and was bat mitzvahed as an adult in Aiken. She "wasn't butch enough to be considered lesbian" and differed from most of her friends in having had children. Moving to Gainesville, FL, was "just like I walked into heaven," she notes. It was a liberating experience as she received a master's degree in occupational therapy, ran a women's bookstore and center, and lived in a women's only community. She then moved to Charleston, SC to work from 1984 to 1987 at the Medical University of South Carolina, where again, she found the community closeted. In Greensboro, NC, where she went to complete her PhD, she found a much more open community, wrote her dissertation on lesbians coming out, became a counselor, and began to reconnect with Judaism as she explored other spiritual avenues. A retreat in Taos, NM, prompted her to travel the world through the Servas International Program. As an out lesbian, she had positive, negative and neutral experiences. Mentioning Wicca, Gaia, and Native American religious traditions, Radonsky was ordained as a Rabbi in the Renewal Judaism movement by Mordechai Gafni, a charismatic leader who later lost his position due to claims of sexual misconduct. To take care of her aging parents, Radonsky moved to West Palm Beach, FL, despite her recovered memory of sexual abuse by her father. There she became friends with the early lesbian rights activists Connie Kurtz and Ruthie Berman. After her parents' death, Radonsky relocated to Beaufort, SC, to be near one of her daughters. She speaks of the conservative nature of the area, her work with the Unitarian Universalist Church, the lack of acceptance of her rabbinical degree by the Jewish community and her outspoken support of many causes and issues. She mentions marching with a daughter in Columbia, SC (at the first Pride March), and with her other daughter in Greensboro, NC; her two long-term relationships; and events she helped organize, including a Beaufort gathering to mark the shooting at the Pulse Nightclub and the first Pride March held in Bluffton, SC. She closes by noting that the LGBTQ community has much to offer society at large, and she will continue dedicating her life to total inclusivity.????
Sunshine Goodman (pronouns: She/Her/Hers) discusses life experiences, spirituality, work in the beauty industry, her philosophy and attitude to life and her assumption of the role as a “self-proclaimed ambassador of authenticity.” Growing up in Roanoke, VA, Goodman spent time as a youth with her mother’s family in Charleston, SC. Bullied in school for appearing feminine and steered away from coming out in a small conservative town, Goodman left after high school to live with an aunt in Charleston. First working in women’s fashion stores, Goodman then became an apprentice with a stylist to gain a barber’s license. While pursuing a strong sense of personal style and founding a brand called Celebritimage, Goodman also searched for the most authentic way of living and manifesting a God-given individuality. While getting both positive and negative feedback for the change she made in her appearance, Goodman refused to be defined by an image, instead feeling that “everything I do...is for the benefit of other people. Even the way I look is not just for me.” Goodman discusses her feelings about God’s watching out for all, her experiences with angels, numerology, and prophetic voices telling her truths about others and herself. It is a gift she uses to help others find confidence, their true calling, and to embrace their bodies and sexuality, also the theme of her book Three Seasons of Life: Discovery, Believe, Faith. Living briefly in Los Angeles, Goodman speaks of being gender fluid and identifying with the trans community, saying that all are capable of transformation. In response to questions, she addresses homophobia within the African American and African American religious communities, prejudice within the LGBTQ community, and she describes many Charleston bars such as Dudley’s, Pantheon, the Cure, and others, especially the once Black-friendly Déjà Vu. She notes the positive effects of increasing LGBTQ visibility yet thinks that it drives some back into hiding for fear of being identified with it. While Goodman uses social media to help influence people to embrace their true selves, she laments the abuse of dating apps. She concludes the interview with her thoughts on gentrification in Charleston, and the need of leaving a legacy, especially being Black and gay. Note: This interview was conducted when the narrator preferred male pronouns. The narrator now uses she/her pronouns and requested they be changed. The pronouns were substituted and are bracketed in the transcript, but they were not altered, or removed, from the audio file.
Pat Patterson (pronouns: He/Him/His) speaks of family life, childhood, growing up, coming out, his political activism through drag performance, interactions with the Methodist Church, and his perceptions of the LGBTQ community. Born and reared in a loving and accepting family environment in Spartanburg, SC, he attended Wofford College, the 37th family member to do so. “I’m a Palmetto tree with fairly deep roots,” he notes. He came out in graduate school at the University of SC, and speaks about the founding of its Bisexual Gay and Lesbian Association (BGLA) and how he assumed his drag persona Patti O’Furniture, “a bully pulpit to raise awareness,” on a dare. At various points in the interview, Patterson speaks of the stratification of the LGBTQ community (“part of our charm and part of our problem”), with most of the focus on Charleston, identifying the conservative “blazer gays” who practice “an odd social decorum” at private parties, the “SIN” or service industry gays who are more out, and other socially and geographically distanced groups. He speaks of racism, and racial and trans insensitivity, the difference between the Charleston Pride and the Columbia, SC-based South Carolina Pride organizations, the gay rugby team, the Charleston Blockade, and K. J. Ivery, once a student of his and now an out trans officer of the Charleston Police Department. Having first done AIDS work in Columbia, SC with his friend Bill Edens, he became involved with the SC Equality Coalition, and he mentions a variety of other LGBTQ organizations and leaders. He began commuting to Charleston to perform drag at the bar Patrick’s, eventually moving there, arranging performances at Dudley’s, and he now also performs at brunches, breweries and bingo, usually emceeing, giving his tips from the audience to charity and passing the hat at performances for different causes and organizations. Straight audiences, he notes, are often more appreciative, and in describing his own indoctrination into drag, he shares some of the vocabulary, mentions those icons who influenced him and praises Jay White for his Brooke Collins performances. He names and describes many bars throughout the state, speaks of his evolution as a performer and activist, as well as the need to be aware of how unintended insults or slurs can occur. Making distinctions between religion and faith, the latter very important to him, Patterson also describes his family’s attachment to their local Methodist congregation in Spartanburg and their dedication to liberalizing the Methodist Church in general.
Emily Anne Boyter (pronouns: She/Hers) discusses her life as the daughter of missionaries, her religious upbringing and experiences with religion, coming out as a lesbian, reconciling “Christianity and queerness,” and many positive new experiences opening to her. She describes being born in Greenville, South Carolina, and being raised in Mexico City where her parents worked as Evangelical Christian missionaries, spending brief periods in the states. She left Mexico and attended college at, and graduated from, Liberty University, a private evangelical Christian university in Lynchburg, Virginia. There, the strongly insular quality she experienced in the missionary world, continued, and many felt a great loyalty to the school and its President, Jerry Falwell, Jr. Identifying as straight during her time there, she nevertheless was aware of a “strong culture of homophobia at Liberty,” where close friendships could lead to questions about one’s sexuality and where being gay could lead to expulsion. In graduate school at Clemson University, Boyter began to meet, and form friendships with LGBTQ people, feeling on “friendly ground” for the first time in her life, among people who were unbothered by another’s sexual orientation or identity. Being in this open and accepting environment, Boyter began to come to terms with being “queer,” a word she embraces for its inclusiveness. Coming out in her religious community at Clemson was not a positive experience, so she eventually left her church. In the interview, she wonders if others would see her as a “Christian” at all, she having now found comfort in a feminine spirituality versus the strong paternalistic nature of many churches and religions. She recalls how many men in her religious milieu would weigh her (and other women’s) characteristics and traits, to determine if they would make good wives of ministers. After coming out to her family and on social media, finding support from some, but dismay and rejection from others, including a man who had been viewing her as a possible wife, Boyter is now in a committed relationship with another woman and they are considering marriage. Despite the difficulties faced by LGBTQ people in the upstate region where they live, Boyter, a resident of Easley, and her girlfriend feel rooted in the area, yet she expresses some misgivings at the possibility of raising children there. Her work at the Tri-County Technical College is rewarding; being “out,” she can serve as a mentor and a role model for LGBTQ students and others.
Chase Glenn (pronouns: He/Him/His), white executive director of the Alliance for Full Acceptance (AFFA), speaks about himself and his family, his life impacted by a growing awareness of the LGBTQ community and its issues, his transition, and his professional development that took him from church work to his current position. Growing up in Mt. Vernon, IL, an insular, small and rural community into a loving and giving Southern Baptist family, Glenn was "pretty naive to the world growing up." While he "felt like the other," he "didn't have the words or the real understanding" of his identity. In a world where "heterosexual sex was bad, then gay sex was not just not on the table at all," he did not have a frame of reference or knowledge about gay or trans people. Not until attending Belmont University in Nashville, TN did Glenn know gay people and there it was a shock to be told that women could never be ministers in the Southern Baptist denomination, despite Glenn's life-long "call" to the ministry. Never "feeling fully a girl," Glenn began a relationship with another woman, that being the "path of least resistance" and worked in churches. When outed as a lesbian at work in a church in Florida, Glenn was given the option to stop living that way or be fired. That prompted a 2006 move to Charleston, SC, where Glenn maintained a relationship with a lesbian, was married, came out successfully to his family, and worked for the Mt. Pleasant Presbyterian Church. After seven years he began to work for Blackbaud, and his awareness grew as to his true identity. His relationship ended; he discusses some of the lesbian and other bars in Charleston he attended, as he openly pursued his transition, sharing it online and on his dating profiles. He met a woman whom he married and now the couple has a son through invitro fertilization. Glenn discusses his fears of being an appropriate father and recalls his growing involvement in the LGBTQ community, doing the design and layout for the first Pride programs, serving on its board, that of AFFA, and working for SC Equality and the Trans Action Committee. Having gotten a master's degree in counseling and experiencing again the call to advocate for, and work with, people, Glenn, after discussions with his wife, left the safety of his corporate job to become the director of the non-profit AFFA. He describes the directions in which he took the organization, details the complexities of the community needs assessment survey AFFA and its partners undertook, discusses some of the results, talks about how race and racism affect the community and how society affords him "white male straight privilege" because of his appearance.
Melissa Moore (pronouns: They/Them) discusses their personal life and the various roles they played in numerous social causes and organizations, many being LGBTQ related. Born in Mt. Pleasant, SC, they identified as male, and, denied that self-expression, Moore details the impact it had on their school years and the numbing escape made possible by drugs and alcohol. In passing Moore also describes a run-in with religious demands at Vacation Bible School, and being exposed to, and fascinated by, female impersonators at an early age. At the College of Charleston, Moore joined such groups as the Gay and Lesbian Alliance, and the Women’s Forum, engaging intellectually and socially with new people and ideas. Coming to see that societal norms aid in controlling conformity and denying diversity, Moore was strongly affected by a billboard supporting LGBTQ rights put up by the Alliance for Full Acceptance (AFFA). That prompted them to begin volunteering, and eventually working, for AFFA under the direction of Warren Redman-Gress. Moore later went on to work with Linda Ketner and SC Equality to attempt to defeat the movement within the state of South Carolina to define marriage as between a man and a woman. That was unsuccessful. In the process, Moore came into contact with other organizations such as Southerners on New Ground and worked with activists including Mandy Carter and others, creating opportunities to learn grass root organizing skills and to work with groups like Africa House in Orangeburg, SC. Moore notes the reluctance or refusal of national and other LGBTQ organizations to fund work in the South, assuming it “unwinnable” and also speaks to the lack of funding for social service agencies in lieu of political ones. Working with the Abortion Access Project, later called Provide, gave Moore further experience and they eventually became director of We Are Family, an organization in Charleston for LGBTQ youth. Moore details how under their management and planning the organization and its programs grew. They describe the plan to fund the organization through the creation of a thrift store and Moore notes how three LGBTQ organizations in town, Charleston Pride, AFFA and We Are Family recently moved to the same building in North Charleston. After touching on subjects like transphobia, the new management of We Are Family, and naming many people in the field they admire, Moore finishes the interview describing their new position with the city of Mount Pleasant, working on sustainable and equitable city planning.
Limit your search
South Carolina LGBTQ Oral Histories, Archives, and Outreach✖[remove]25
