Power and Poetry of LGBTQ+ Youth:
A Declaration of Humanity and Redemption
My name is Ryan J. Mills, and I am the executive producer of The OUTcast by Muncie OUTreach. We are a youth-led LGBTQ podcast focusing on topics from sociopolitical to cultural. My role is to help select and arrange the topics, format the episodes, assist with research, and keep conversation flowing.
The podcast was the brainchild of Jordan Murphy who pitched the idea to the director of OUTreach, Laura Janney, who reached out to me. OUTreach is a youth group that works tirelessly to educate, advocate for, and provide a safe space for young people of all sexual orientations and gender identities.
Jordan is one of the youths who attend the organization and deserves much credit for the progress they’ve achieved thus far. Jordan decided to write the poem Don’t Say Gay because they were “feeling horrible about the situation going on in Florida” and wanted to express that artistically. Below is an illumination of my thoughts and feelings on being involved with OUTreach, the podcast, and Jordan’s poem.
As we age, life’s priorities begin to change along with our bodies. For some, the viewpoints that were once held, evolve to become more refined and less rigid. Hopefully, this change brings about a sense of clarity that reveals not only a heighten understanding of yourself and the world but the flaws of your past ideals and actions. For me, nothing is more evident of this change with time than my current views on the LGBTQ community. As a devoutly religious church boy from a small town, I was raised to despise, scorn, and steer clear of this community. Armed with ignorance and the supposed word of God, I openly expressed my disdain for anything deemed queer. This is an unfortunate and reprehensible past that continues to haunt me despite my involvement with OUTreach, an organization solely focused on uplifting and protecting queer youth.
Humanity
As a volunteer of OUTreach, I was blessed to witness, firsthand, the beauty, intelligence, and passion of the LGBTQ youth. Later, as the executive producer of the The OUTcast. Through this opportunity, I found myself fulfilling various roles including mentor, teacher, friend and, at times, a father figure. Whatever they needed me to be, I was willing to assume that responsibility without question.
However, despite my involvement, to hear them speak about their trauma was devastating, to say the least. Especially when you recognize that this trauma stems from a set of ideals that you once championed. I have conversed with teenagers who have been dispossessed and ostracized from their families just for being queer. This is a trait that they had no control over, only the unfortunate circumstance of being born with a sexual orientation or a gender expression that society seldom accepts. There is a fierce sense of agony that derives from the realization that your old ways of thinking had dire consequences. An unshakeable feeling that your hands are stained with the blood of every queer youth who didn’t make it to adulthood. Succumbed to a violence brought about by an anti-LGBTQ sentiment that permeates throughout our culture. Whether it is fair to internalize that burden doesn’t matter to me. What matters is I take responsibility for the part I played in perpetuating a system of oppression on a community who has done nothing but exist.
Redemption
Since beginning with OUTreach, I found myself growing attached to many of those kids. At times, I even viewed them as if they were my own children born of my flesh. I may not feel their pain exactly as they do, but as a Black man living in the United States, I empathize with it. I may not experience the excruciating dysphoria that comes from being misgendered or the deep-seated sorrow that comes from being shunned from your family. However, there is a shared struggle amongst marginalized communities where we can find common ground. To have your life politicized is one of the most degrading and demoralizing feelings on this planet. Watching political pundits debate whether your Black life matters, sends a sick and disturbing chill up your spine. With that said, when I see anti-LGBTQ legislation being introduced and passed, that chill returns. One thought of my kids having to endure this denigration and my heart sinks. That familiar chill is still lingering in the background, whispering to me in a fateful tone. Yet, despite the cruelties of the world, my kids choose to gather their voices, talents, and passions together to fight back. Whether they are protesting, voicing their concerns via podcast, or simply surviving every day, they are consciously choosing to stand against this hate.
Power
For this reason, I am proud to share a poem from one of my kids. A teen whose dark past has no bearing on their bright future. Jordan Murphy is one of the most passionate, empathetic, and dedicated teens that I know. It was their idea to start a youth-led LGBTQ podcast and they asked me to facilitate it. So, when Jordan approached me with a poem they’ve been writing, I was more than delighted to read it.
It is safe to say that what I read was moving! Here, we have a teenager who has been made to feel like their life didn’t matter, choosing to strike back at that lie. Letting the world know that they refuse to give into this elaborate and fictitious illusion. The poem Don’t Say Gay serves as a testament to the greatness of marginalized communities. No matter how oppressive the system, the people will always rise up to challenge it and as long as there are people willing to stand against oppression, progress will be made. This poem serves as a declaration of humanity and rebellion, of pain and perseverance, of anger and triumph. Above all, it continues the rich tradition of calling out the contradictions and hypocrisy of a society bent on scapegoating and subjugating the most vulnerable.
Don’t Say Gay
By Jordan Murphy
Don’t say gay because you’re too young to know but a young boy and girl are allowed to let their love to show
Don’t say gay because people will look at you different.
Don’t say gay because you’re going to hell, the way you were born is not considered normal and “well.” The church will never accept you. Oh, but don’t worry you can be fixed even though there’s not a DAMN thing wrong with you. You were never sick.
Don’t say gay because on a good day you’ll be looked at weird.
On a bad day you can be killed because your existence is feared and the excuse of “emotional stress” will appear
Some thought that was ok for a man to go into a club on June 12, 2016, and fire his weapon
53 people walked out injured and 49 people are precious souls in heaven, all just because they loved “wrong”
And people will act like it’s nothing
Parents lost children and children lost loved ones.
Don’t say gay because it’s ok for a president to ignore a deadly virus because it’s murdering the “right people”
Oh and I guess it’s ok for companies to use a rainbow logo and drop us the next day.
Don’t say gay because it’ll be so much easier for the government to hide your history. We aren’t allowed to hear about it, it’s still a mystery. They don’t want us knowing about
the strength of Marsha P. Johnson’s actions
The soul of Jackie Shane’s music
the beauty of Andy Warhol’s art
and the power of Freddie Mercury’s voice.
Don’t say gay because there’s no obligation to have this conversation BUT it’s ok for my parents to kick me out!
Don’t say gay because a kid happens to have 2 dads and we can’t talk about it. They say it’s “inappropriate.”
When did love become inappropriate?
Don’t say gay because people are ok with others ending their lives, but we can’t have a conversation about why.
Don’t… say… gay!
Jordan Murphy (they/them) is a 19-year-old playwright, actor, poet, and founder of The OUTcast Podcast. They are currently college bound with hopes of going into Culinary Arts or Social Work. During their downtime they enjoy cooking, writing, drawing, and volunteering at Muncie OUTreach. Their grace, passion, and dedication continue to inspire me. I am forever grateful for them.
