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.
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.
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.
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.
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.
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."
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."??
Dick (Richard) Latham (pronouns: He/Him) describes his childhood in Raleigh, North Carolina realizing he was gay and growing up in an accepting family. They moved to the more conservative Rock Hill, South Carolina when he was a teen. Latham attended the College of Charleston, where he was fully out, and a member of the Alpha Phi Omega Fraternity, as was a man he dated. He attended gay bars in downtown Charleston including Les Jardins, the Garden & Gun Club, and Streetcar, later Dudley’s, and he describes the class stratification within the gay community, elites attending the Battery Club, and there being a pecking order with drag queens and “redneck” cruisers at the bottom. Enrolling in a graduate program in early childhood education, Latham felt the need to be less open about his sexual orientation, due to working with children; he recalls a closeted gay principal refusing to hire him because he was a male. After graduation, he continued to work in early childhood education at the College of Charleston and later Trident Technical College. Latham describes a long-term relationship that ended in the death of his partner, the impact it had on his professional and personal life when the local press identified him as a teacher at the College of Charleston, and how the hospital staff would not at first communicate with him since he was not considered family. He discusses facing the issue of ageism in the LGBTQ community. He was present at the founding of the Lowcountry Gay & Lesbian Alliance (LGLA), and describes its struggles, its activities and his presidency in the early 2000s, recalling the debate within the group to be “out” or not and how highway signs crediting the LGBTQ group for picking up litter were constantly vandalized. Latham also worked with We Are Family, and compares the mission of LGLA with that of the Alliance for Full Acceptance (AFFA). An Episcopalian, he discusses reconciling his faith with his sexuality, and homophobia at the Cathedral Church of St. Luke and St. Paul, compared to the openness of St. Stephen’s Episcopal Church. Latham also responds to questions on the AIDS crisis in Charleston, noting the silence around it, prejudice against people with HIV, the work of Joe Hall and AIDS service agencies and programs such as Dining with Friends, which made AIDS work acceptable since it centered on social events. He ends with his thoughts on the current LGBTQ issues, and describes his creation of Safe Space trainings at Trident Technical College. In reply to some critical reaction, he notes how he was treated as a gay college student, showing the need for such programs today.
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.
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.????
Samuel Cooper (pronouns: He/His) discusses his upbringing, life history and beliefs, focusing often on the topic of being a gay African American man of faith. When his father, minister of Centenary Methodist Church, Charleston, SC, joined the military to become a chaplain, Cooper and his family began a peripatetic life that took them to various bases in this country and in Germany. Knowing early he was gay, seeing his homosexuality as a "gift," Cooper nevertheless suppressed it, eventually coming out to his family who accepted him, partially, he believes, due to his father having had counseled many LGBTQ men and women in the military. He notes both the benefits and liabilities of being Black and of being gay and describes an episode of crisis at Clemson University. A homophobic comment by a member of the Fellowship of Christian Athletes prompted him to leave that group, come out, join, and become an officer of Clemson's LGBTQ organization, the Lambda Society. He faced near dismissal from Mercer University's Walter F. George School of Law for being an advocate of LGBTQ visibility, and later in the interview he discusses the impacts racial prejudice, both Black and white, and homophobia, can have on clients he represents as a personal injury attorney. In his return to South Carolina working briefly in the Fourth Circuit Solicitor's office, he traveled the state; Cooper, throughout the interview, gives many details of various bars in Columbia, Myrtle Beach and Charleston, describing their appearance and layout and the groups attending them. Once relocated permanently to Charleston, SC, he attended the Metropolitan Community Church and its off shoot, Open Door. He discusses his relationship with his husband, Stavely Edgar, recounts some failed homophobic attacks against him, and notes little or no pushback against Edgar and himself as an interracial couple. He speaks of his religious faith, the Black church, his opinion of historically black colleges possibly limiting experiences for their students, and the threats menacing minorities and democracy due to the presidency of Donald J. Trump.
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.
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.
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.
Megan Smith discusses her experiences as an Irish American in the South. Her paternal grandmother and grandfather immigrated to Holyoke, Massachusetts in the early 1880s. Her maternal grandparents are from Kerry, specifically the Annascaul area. Megan explains that her family in the Boston area owned a blacksmith company and provided services for much of the city. Her other grandparents lived in northern New York and owned a grocery story in Massena, New York. Her father was in the Navy and was responsible for their move to Charleston. Megan is a teacher, and is very involved in the Irish music scene in Charleston.
Melanie McMillan DeHaven (b.1966) was born in Newtownards, Northern Ireland, during the time of the Troubles. Melanie lived in Newtonards until she was eight years old and still has family there today. She discusses her experience with emigration at a young age, and what the Northern Irish identity means to her. Violence during the Troubles had a personal impact on her family, and was a driving force in their emigration to America during the 1960's and 1970's, which she discusses in depth.
Cormac O?Duffy (b. 1950) shares his experience of being born in America, but being raised in Dublin. Cormac?s father was a well-known singer in Ireland, which provided opportunities for Cormac such as meeting De Valera. Cormac O?Duffy was raised to love music and spends his time writing music. He discusses pursuing higher education degrees in Ireland and coming to America for teaching opportunities. He also discusses key differences in life in America and Ireland.
Roseanne Keeley Wray?s parents immigrated to America as a couple in 1926. Prior to her parents moving together to the Bronx. Roseanne shares the experience her mother had with coming to Oklahoma as a single woman. Roseanne offers a wealth of knowledge of both life in Ireland as well as the life of an Irish individual living in America. She shares memories of living in the Bronx as a child and housing young, single Irish immigrants in her family home. She shares stories that her parents would share with her siblings during childhood that told them stories of life in Ireland. To this day, Roseanne?s family still owns a family farm in Ireland, which Roseanne plans on leaving to her children and grandchildren.
