In this interview Crystal Denise Helton (pronouns she, her, hers), a white program coordinator at the Medical University of South Carolina (MUSC), speaks of growing up in West Virginia, her awakening to her sexual identity, her experiences with friends, family and lovers, her marriage and divorce, her conversion to Judaism, and her reflections on herself and society. An only child growing up in with parents who were divorced, but still living together, Helton had a solitary youth, taking refuge in reading, offering escape from an alcoholic father, and a sometimes-inattentive mother. Closeted in high school, she nevertheless had a girlfriend who lived nearby and she avoided the censure of disapproving peers while attending a series of different churches and denominations. Helton first realized she was lesbian when she had a crush on a Sunday school teacher, and evolved a healthy attitude to her sexuality without the guidance or advice of others. Leaving home, near Princeton, West Virginia, Helton attended Marshall University and later lived in Lexington, KY where she switched from a PhD program in history to a masters program in library science, and where she was in a relationship with the woman who eventually became her wife. While she understood prejudice against gay people, Helton never felt much of it directed at her, commenting that her conversion to Judaism, completed at Kahal Kadosh Beth Elohim (KKBE), in Charleston, SC, has sparked more of a negative response from others than her sexuality. Her ex-wife joined her in the conversion experience and there was much resistance to this religious change in her spouse's family. The breakup and divorce (the couple had three varying marriage ceremonies, including a very positive experience at KKBE), was difficult for Helton, who did not instigate it. Calling her ex-wife the extrovert, and herself an introvert, Helton discusses her family of choice, including a long-time friend, and new ones made in a bocce league and among "murderinos", fans of the "My Favorite Murders" podcast. She speaks of learning patience in a romantic relationship, and discusses the greater ease with identity and gender fluidity she sees in people younger than she. She believes that being a member of the LGBTQ community has brought her insight into privilege, power, and prejudice in the larger society.
Vanity Reid Deterville (she, her, hers), discusses her upbringing in Charleston, SC, college years spent in Atlanta, GA, and the challenges she faced as accepting herself and being accepted in society as an African American trans woman. Growing up in an extended religious family, Deterville knew she was different from most of her friends and family as she heeded the warning of her grandmother to not share her concept of her gender identity with most other people. Attending Morehouse College in Atlanta opened up new ways of expressing gender identity and sexual orientation for her, but conflicts with her family over these and other issues led to an unstable period in her life, when she experienced homelessness or near homelessness, financial problems and battles with drugs and dependency. She describes the various stages of self-expression she went through at Morehouse and the issues presenting feminine triggered at the all-male school and how over the years, there have been family rifts and reconciliations. She addresses what it was like to come out in Charleston, mentions the role the LGBTQ youth organization We Are Family played in the process and speaks a bit about the bar scene, articulating a stratification she noticed along class and racial lines._Deterville also speaks about local transgender issues, the segregated nature of LGBTQ life, and how many of her friends are more eager to attend Black Gay Pride events out of town rather than local gay pride events. She also notes the irony that people in the white community seem more empathetic on, and attuned to, transgender issues, than many in the people of color community. Yet white gay men tend to want to label and define her only as a drag performer and not accept her for her true status. She refers to a play "Sugar in the Grits" she wrote and performed for the local MOJA festival, a rare event that linked Gullah-Geechee heritage and LGBTQ life._In response to the question of what being LGBTQ has meant to her, she answers that it has led to "trailblazing," being constantly open to questioning normalcy, learning to love oneself, despite what one is taught, and being able to look at life in an a more nuanced and even more spiritual manner._
Shelli Quenga (pronouns: She/Hers), describes living all over the world, moving to Charleston in her 20s and coming out as a lesbian in her 40s. Her father was in the Air Force, and she discusses her experiences being the daughter of a mixed-race couple with a Guamanian father and a white mother. Educated at Vassar, she married twice. Although she had a gay uncle, “it just never occurred to me that being gay was an option,” she states. Married with one child, she met another woman with four children (two withs special needs) and their relationship began; the coming out process was “tortuous.” During it, she lost a relationship with her daughter, her parents, and her job due to its homophobic work environment. Quenga discusses how her experience differs from that of lesbians who never married men, noting her realization that heterosexuality did give her more power and status. She speaks of her obliviousness to LGBTQ people and issues before coming out and her limited awareness of the Charleston LGBTQ community. That changed once she met Lynn Dugan and began to attend functions organized by the Charleston Social Club, a local lesbian group that Dugan founded. She describes the pressure she feels to keep her personal and business lives separate, including on social media, while also observing how such mundane things as health care forms can be off-putting to LGBTQ people and express subtle discrimination. With the passage of time, she has become more vocal in order to demonstrate to others how misleading or stereotypical their assumptions about her can be, and she has found a shift in those around her, too. She and her wife have been accepted by their extended families, their children now have LGBTQ friends, and Quenga discusses how they keep her up to date with terminology and issues in the community. She mentions the rupture in the congregation of Old St. Andrews Episcopal Church over the ordination of a gay bishop, and ends the interview discussing racism and sexism in South Carolina, and how an inability to be fully free and out causes her to question staying in the state. Her advice for younger people, however, is to leave the state, achieve success not possible here, and then perhaps come back.
Andrew Becknell, sometimes known as Andrezia (pronouns: they/them, but also she/her) describes growing up in the Charleston area as a bigender or two-spirit person. They grew up in a conservative Catholic family, moving from West of the Ashley to Mount Pleasant. Becknell's parents divorced when they were young, and they became close to their mother, and has only recently begun to renew ties with their father. Becknell has Tourette's syndrome, misdiagnosed early on as Attention-Deficit/Hyperactivity Disorder (ADHD), leading to bad reactions to drugs and an unhappy year at Blessed Sacrament School. Later attending Wando High School, Becknell, who always sensed they were different, began experimenting with high heels and other forms of feminine attire, eliciting a range of both negative and positive reaction, the former from his family and the latter from a church youth group leader. Attending Trident Technical College, Becknell served as Vice President of Gay/Straight Alliance, which they helped found and later had both positive and negative experiences in a different work environments. Now working as a car-detailer, a job much enjoyed, Becknell discusses being out, "blending in," and also moving into "survival mode." Becknell mentions attending some Charleston Area Transgender Support (CATS) meetings, notes being more attracted to women, describes the impact of certain albums and musicians on them, declares that "The binary must die," and speaks of their attraction to Norse Polytheism. They also muse on the rigidity of the older generation, both straight and gay, in viewing of sex and gender roles, mentioning a lesbian "takeover" of the Alliance for Full Acceptance (AFFA), making the organization more accepting. Becknell also discusses work with a number of therapists, and how a gender therapist has been most helpful.
Robert Arrington (pronouns: He/Him/His), Black reverend of the Unity Fellowship Church, the only affirming church for LGBTQ people of color in the Charleston, SC area, discusses his personal life, his spiritual growth, and troubles and issues with his church and the larger Charleston, SC community. A native of Harlem, NY, Arrington grew up in an abusive household and due to a misdiagnosis, was sent to schools for the mentally handicapped. "My childhood was just about survival," he notes. Being different, he was the subject of contempt by others and sought solace in religion and the church, where he was told he was gifted. After being sent to a rigorous all male Catholic School, and his father's murder in 1974, Arrington and his family moved to a rural area near Durham, NC, where he graduated high school. In college, he married a woman "to make everybody happy," but that did not work out, and, moving to Fayetteville, NC, he became involved in a party scene, contracted HIV and nearly died. Back in Durham, facing family issues, Arrington rejoined the church, started an AIDS ministry, and could not be ordained as a minister in the Missionary Baptist Church as a gay man but only as "a non-practicing homosexual." To preserve his integrity, he joined the Unity Fellowship Church movement, and had a congregation in Charlotte, NC. Arrington then gives a brief history of the denomination, noting how he moved to Rochester, NY before coming to Charleston in 2010 and setting up a Pentecostal type church service here. Arrington describes the growth and decline of his congregation, mentions an ex-husband, and speaks of the prejudice he has felt in Charleston directed against him as an African American, and specifically against him as a reverend in and out LGBTQ church. While loving the area, he comments on the resistance of "gatekeepers" to change, feeling that racism is "in the air." He comments favorably on many working to improve the LGBTQ and African American communities, but concludes that many with power and privilege are halting progress.
Steven Willard (pronouns: He/Him), a white yoga and meditation teacher in Charleston, SC, speaks about his life and changes seen in society and in the LGBTQ community over the years. With a father in Vietnam when he was born, Willard and his family moved to North Charleston, SC when he was six. It was "small town, USA," and Willard attended church and public schools, where, knowing he was different, he found a friend who was also gay. As a teen, he worked in a record store in a mall and found comfort in seeing people he could identify as LGBTQ even as he sought further "validation" in movies, books and on television. He describes how he and his friend, with false IDs, attended bars such as the Garden and Gun Club and the Arcade, and the impact it had on them. While distanced from his father, he had a fairly good relationship with his mother; yet being discovered as gay as he finished high school at eighteen in 1986, led to his removal from his home. He moved to New York City where he felt safe for the first time. Mentored by an older gay man, he worked in a variety of jobs. Growing up in SC, he had had no access to positive information about gay life or AIDS prevention, and throughout the interview, Willard marvels at his luck at surviving the death and devastation around him. He returned to Charleston in 1993, left periodically, but came back. He found it necessary to be closeted working for the Department of Motor Vehicles, and coming out, experienced prejudice and harassment. He stood up to this, however, noting, "I might have been a fag, but I wasn't a punk." An interest in yoga lead him to teaching, and in the 1990s and afterwards, he witnessed a change in the city triggered by the empowerment from surviving AIDS. He noticed more gender fluidity in younger people and in himself in such places as the Treehouse bar. He gives a vivid description of the celebrations that occurred in Charleston when marriage equality was achieved, unfortunately, very close to the time that the massacre at Emanuel AME Church occurred. Throughout, he speaks of the loss of honesty, and face-to-face communication that social dating apps have brought about and then mentions the loss of LGBTQ spaces in the city, specifically describing Dudley's as a gathering spot for bridal parties. He regrets the lack of political involvement on social issues, such as abortion, among younger people, yet also believes that being LGBTQ "just living our lives is a form of activism." In reply to how being LGBTQ has influenced his life, Willard responds that, if not challenged as a minority and faced with prejudice, he could have become complacent. "Like women, people of color, LGBT, we all have to realize that we ?re in those cross hairs of these straight white Christian dudes, and we all have to fight together."
Jamie Nadeau (pronouns: She/Her/Hers) describes her journey to self-realization as a lesbian trans woman and a successful business owner of a hand-press greeting card printing company in Charleston, South Carolina. Born in Nashville, Tennessee into a religious Church of Christ family, Nadeau attended religious schools. Her father, a member of the Potawatomi Nation, and her mother divorced when she was young, and she speaks of trying to reclaim and learn more about her native American heritage. Born intersex, Nadeau retains early childhood hospital memories and speaks of her conservative upbringing where LGBTQ people were seen as “cultural oddities” and trans people were thought “horrific monsters.” Trying to imagine herself as a lesbian in that conservative environment “broke my brain,” and she had to go through the “impostor syndrome” before claiming and becoming comfortable as her true self. Embracing technology and computers long before they were commonplace, she was a young hacker and researched gender identities in cyberspace when others perhaps were still using libraries. She attended Middle Tennessee State University for a year, where and when she first began to explore her identity; she then studied at, and received her degree from, the Savannah College of Art and Design. After her mother’s death, Nadeau vowed she would never wear men’s clothes again and began seeing a gender therapist. She quickly began sharing her status with friends, family and her wife Allison, meeting wholehearted support from the latter, and a variety of responses from others. Nadeau speaks to the various levels of acceptance from the religious community, and from her biological and chosen families. She speaks at length of her experiences in coming out, noting how “soul crushing” being “misgendered” in public can be, and praises the Charleston trans women’s community for being so accepting and supportive, affirming the importance of support groups and loyal friends. Nadeau also describes how she and her wife, Allison, friends since childhood, followed their fascination with printing and design and left their professions to become proprietors of their greeting card company, Ink Meets Paper. There is a brief discussion focusing on Charleston being a safer space for LGBTQ people than other areas of the Deep South, and in response to the interviewer, Nadeau suggest that LGBTQ people should not necessarily focus on otherness, but see the world as she does, a place of countless, diverse narratives, where people are to be encouraged for finding their own way and lauded for their strength in “occupying space” in a world of proscriptions and possiblities.
Stephen “Steve” Cagle (pronouns: He/Him/His) discusses his upbringing in North Carolina, education as a pharmacist, service in the armed forces, his experiences as a gay man in the South, abroad and in California, and eventually opening a gay bed and breakfast with his domestic partner, Charles S. Holt, at Folly Beach, SC. Born in Concord NC, he grew up with an ailing father who died young, and a mother who struggled to find her son positive male role models. Knowing he was gay from an early age, Cagle, while having sexual experiences, kept quiet about his orientation in his hometown where such things were not discussed, but not necessarily condemned. He had somewhat closeted affairs when he attended pharmacy school at the University of North Carolina at Chapel Hill. Drafted into the army, Cagle, wanting to serve his country to fulfill his father’s inability to do so, found a fairly tolerant attitude to gays in the military. Despite others being out, he was more reserved, yet he mentions sexual experiences at bases at home and abroad in his service in northern Italy. After leaving the service Cagle lived in Henderson, NC, and then in Charlotte, NC, working as a pharmacist. He describes a gay bar in Charlotte sharing a site with a Denny’s Restaurant and explains the allure and dangers of anonymous sex in rest stops on the Interstate 85 Highway corridor in North Carolina, mentioning a Highway Patrolman who frequented those sites. Having been raised an only child and feeling he lacked social skills in befriending people, Cagle did find relationships, eventually falling in love with a married US Marine who suggested Cagle move to California in 1977 to be near him. There, the affair ended, as Cagle knew it would, but he met Charles (Chuck) Holt, who worked in Los Angeles, reading film scripts and crossing paths with celebrities such as Liberace and Rock Hudson. The men became a couple, and they began to explore their options in 1986 after Holt discovered he was HIV positive. The couple pulled up stakes, began an extended road trip across the country, guided by Damron’s Gay Guides, and ended up founding and running the gay Charleston Bed and Breakfast at Folly Beach. Cagle discusses the place’s importance, its success, the friendly acceptance it met on Folly Beach, also mentioning Hurricane Hugo, and how others, including his mother, came to accept him and help run the B and B after Holt’s death in 1995. Cagle sold the B and B, retired from the Ralph Johnson Veterans Administration Hospital and now lives in Charleston with his husband John Meffert.
Blanche McCrary Boyd (pronouns: she/her/hers) describes the events that lead to her becoming an acclaimed novelist and professor at Connecticut College. Born in Charleston, SC in 1945 to working class parents, she lost her father at age 15, one of the crucial events of her life. Living with family on a 400-acre plantation near Rantowles, SC, she became “radicalized” by events seen on television, realizing, unlike other members of her family, that she lived in a racist society, finding a “sense of horror” and a “sense of beauty” in the South. She attended Duke University and met Dean Boyd, the man she married, while attending Harvard University summer school. Boyd credits her husband for helping her mature and encouraging her writing once she decided upon that as a goal. Moving to California, Boyd began writing seriously at Pomona College, and won a Wallace Stegner Fellowship in creative writing at Stanford University. Her marriage unraveled, as she discovered feminism, and her attraction to women, bringing her to a “different reality.” She had starting drinking alcohol soon after her father’s death and she spent over a decade abusing it and drugs as she moved to New York and became a “radical lesbian.” She helped set type for the classic novel Rubyfruit Jungle by Rita Mae Brown, and founded Sagaris, an “institute for feminist thought,” associating with leading feminists, including accused bomber Patricia Swinton. She published essays, mostly about the South, in The Village Voice, learned how to “seize” her authority, and published books on popular musicians under the name Vivian Claire. She returned to Charleston, continuing writing and publishing novels, becoming sober in 1981. She discusses how a teenage car wreck involving a Black man’s death became the “fulcrum of my understanding of life” and how it serves as a metaphor for America as she wonders “what white people who are anti-racist are going to do about white supremacy.” She and her wife Leslie are the mothers of twins, James and Julia, and Boyd reflects on parenting, Leslie’s life-threatening illnesses, and how her novel Tomb of the Unknown Racist has capped her fiction writing career. As retirement from Connecticut College looms, she assesses her accomplishments, notes satisfactions, and the many surprising turns her life took.
Douglas Seymour (pronouns: He/Him/His) relates the story of his abusive childhood, growing up and attending school and college in Charleston, SC, his life as an adult, and his work as a peer navigator for people with HIV, often speaking forcefully on the corrosive impact of homophobia. He was beaten by his father for not liking sports and cars, and, although he adored his mother, she told him “being gay was worse than being a child molester and a child murderer.” He always knew he was attracted to men, and if “there hadn’t been the hitch of being told it was wrong...it would have been a natural flow into adulthood.” He graduated First Baptist High School, and due to his father’s demands, attended the Citadel, terrified that he would be picked on for being gay. There, however, he found acceptance among upperclassmen for his knowledge of pop music and found other gay cadets. Having started frequenting the bar Basin Street South as an underage teen, he began going to the King Street Garden and Gun Club, and Seymour recalls his times there and that era of the late 1970s and early 1980s as one of the happiest periods of his life. After college, he worked as a journalist in Summerville, SC, and he describes the cliquish nature of Charleston gay life at the time. His lack of self-esteem, he says, prompted his alcoholism and his settling into personal relationships that were often abusive. He lived in Washington, DC, from 1982 to 1991 and returned to Charleston with a diagnosis of AIDS, told by physicians to prepare to die. After living with his parents, and coming out to them, he moved into his own apartment and received health care from his physician and Lowcountry AIDS Services. Facing health crises, he quit drinking and quit smoking, hired a personal trainer and was in the best shape of his life in his fifties. He began to work for the local Ryan White program as a peer navigator for people newly diagnosed or those long-term survivors like himself. Seymour describes some of the social support programs he set up and notes the quandary of “a whole bunch of us gay men...[with] no career, no retirement...because we weren’t supposed to be here, and now we’re older, we’re isolated...[and] it kind of feels like nobody wants you.” The interview ends with reflections on the lack of a variety of specific spaces for LGBTQ people and how Charleston has changed over the years.
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