A Seat at the Table
A crazy few days in LA and reflection from the GLAAD Media Awards
Last week I flew to Los Angeles to attend the GLAAD Media Awards.
GLAAD is the world’s largest LGBTQ+ advocacy organization. Since 1985, they have worked to ensure that LGBTQ+ stories are accurately told and represented across television, movies, news, and digital media.
The piece I wrote for TIME Magazine was nominated for a GLAAD Media Award for outstanding journalism, and I was invited to walk the red carpet and attend the awards ceremony.
To be honest, life has been so chaotic for me lately between my day job and what’s become my second full-time job preparing to launch my book, that I didn’t have much time to think about or process what it would mean for me to be there.
In what seems like a different life to me now, I spent more than a decade working with some of the most influential voices shaping Evangelical Christianity. I sat in board rooms and green rooms with the pastors and leaders of some of the world’s largest megachurches. I helped them bring their messages into the digital age, build their churches’ online presence, and expand their social media platforms to reach millions.
For a part of that time, I was in conversion therapy, fervently praying to be straight. My job depended on it. Even after I came out, these churches still needed my skillset and what I could offer them, even if they didn’t affirm my lifestyle. NDAs and silent agreements were put in place. And even though I had a seat at the table, it required me to hide who I really was. I felt like an imposter. And a single wrong move on my part could upend everything.
What kept me hanging on for so long wasn’t just the paycheck. I loved the work I did in churches. Part of me hoped that by sticking it out, I could make it better for LGBTQ+ people in churches. And I never thought I’d have a greater opportunity to make an impact in the world than in the church.
When I finally did leave full-time church work in 2017, I assumed I’d just settle into a “normal” life. And in many ways, I did. I moved to New York City and got a job in tech. I severed ties with my past. I got sober. And I started deconstructing my faith and rebuilding a life which felt more honest and grounded than the one I’d lived in the shadows for so long.
As I started writing what became Conversion Therapy Dropout, I finally found the courage to speak the truth. And in doing that, I’ve seen firsthand what it means when the Bible says, “the truth will set you free.”
For the first time in my life, I’m not afraid to show up as my full self.
With increased attacks against the LGBTQ+ community and the threat of conversion therapy bans being overturned, I know I have a responsibility to speak the truth about what happened to me so it can help others. And following that impulse by writing my book, penning op-eds, and showing up more on social media has begun to open doors and opportunities I could never have imagined, like being at the GLAAD Media Awards.
My flight to LA was delayed by 3 hours, so I didn’t land until after midnight on the day of the awards ceremony. I worked from my hotel lobby most of the day, then logged off at 3 in the afternoon to get dressed and head to the festivities at The Beverly Hilton.
My amazing publicist Tony, must have sensed my apprehension, because as I was in my Uber on the way there, he texted me saying,
“I just wanted to remind you to have just the best time tonight. You deserve this. You deserve the spotlight even though you love to hate it. Enjoy the evening. Be fully present as you always are. And just know that you belong in the space. We get to celebrate you tonight. So if you are nervous or having some sort of imposter syndrome this evening, I just wanted to send a little note to remind you that you are the shit, you belong here, and I can’t wait to see you.”
I started to get weepy reading his words and felt a surge of gratitude and confidence. But it was all short-lived. Pulling up, my stomach dropped. I’m an introvert, and seeing the crowd assembling, the press and cameras, the red carpet, all felt overwhelming. Tony met me and whisked me into the chaos. Before long, I was talking to reporters and podcasters, and rubbing shoulders with some of the leading voices and personalities in queer media. And I got my first Getty Images shots.
It was a lot. I felt so out of place. I had WTF am I doing here? moments. I’ve been sober for nearly five years and have never wanted a drink to take the edge off so badly. (But don’t worry, I didn’t imbibe.)
What struck me about it all was how kind and accessible everyone was. People were so gracious in engaging in conversation and getting to know me. I scored quite a few invitations to be on podcasts to promote my book. And I managed to get a few selfies with some of my favorite queer icons. And it’s sad to say that this was an uncommon experience compared to similar events I attended while working in churches.
In the Evangelical world, there was such a hierarchy of personality. Pastors would walk through church events flanked by security guards. Hillsong Church had a special green room you could enter only if invited by a pastor. They had baristas making lattes and chefs catering lavish spreads. And even if you were invited in once, it didn’t mean you were welcome back again. Another church I worked at had strict rules that you couldn’t speak to a pastor unless he spoke to you first. It’s sad and annoying to think about now.
Going into the ballroom for the awards ceremony and dinner, I had another out-of-body moment as I took my seat at the table. Tony’s words to me earlier rang in my ears. For so long, I had to hide who I really was from other people. But I had shown up as my full self at the Supreme Court… I learned to use my voice… I wrote an op-ed for TIME… and that’s what got me there.
The night was all a bit of a blur. The ceremony will air on Hulu beginning March 21, so definitely check it out.
There were some incredibly moving speeches and hilarious moments. I sadly didn’t get to meet the guys from Heated Rivalry, but I did get to say hello to Christina Chang, who plays Yuna Hollander, and I was just inches from Robbie G.K., who plays Kip. And I definitely lost it, along with everyone else in the room, when Liza Minnelli came on stage to receive her lifetime achievement award. Singing “Happy Birthday” to her with some of the leading voices in queer media is a new core life memory for me.
I didn’t end up coming home with an award, but I walked away with something even greater: the certainty that I belong and that my story matters.
I had spent years believing the church was the only place I could make a real difference in the world. But here I was, in a room full of people whose stories were reaching millions, not because they’d hidden parts, but because they’d refused to be anything but themselves.
Being there showed me that what I’ve created from the wreckage of my past can be a light to help others find their way.
I’m no longer on the outside looking in or an imposter hiding in plain sight.
I now belong to a community of LGBTQ+ changemakers who are courageously sharing their stories, impacting lives, and redefining what it means to be queer and free.
I earned my seat at the table, and this time I brought my whole self with me.
More adventures in LA
The following morning, I was in the studio with my friend Candice Czubernat. She’s the founder of The Christian Closet, which offers counseling, coaching, and spiritual health services for the LGBTQ+ community. We are working on a fun little project we can’t wait to share with you. Watch for more details soon. In the meantime, here’s a little peek:
And on my way out of town Saturday, I stopped by Book Soup in West Hollywood, where I’ll be on June 2, with special guest R.K. Russell, for my book tour! More details here.
We’re officially less than two months away from release, and life is going to get more chaotic for me. I go in studio this weekend to record my audiobook, have a handful of podcast interviews coming up, and am finalizing details for the book tour.
It’s a lot, but I’m so grateful for the love and support I feel. I know I’m not doing this alone.
Thank you for being here and for following along. It means more than you can imagine.
If you’ve ever had to hide who you are to belong somewhere, I hope my story reminds you that you deserve a seat at the table too... exactly as you are.
To showing up as our full selves,
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I love this so much for you—you might not have won an award but you won in so many other ways: nominated, stayed sober, met so many cool people and networked! Beautiful! 🥹
So proud of you and grateful for you voice!