This was published 4 years ago
Opinion
Gay, Christian and a former preacher, I'm coming out to help anyone hurt by Folau
By Andre Afamasaga
Being a gay Christian of a Pacific Island ethnicity was never easy. But this year it got harder. Israel Folau’s Instagram post in April, claiming hell awaited unrepentant gay people, led to his sacking by the Australian Rugby Union and a drawn-out legal battle. After its settlement this month, Folau and his supporters espoused a narrative of “vindication” and “victory”.
Andre Afamasaga ... a gay, Samoan Christian and former pastor. In an attempt to suppress his sexuality, he attended conversion therapy, since discredited. "I was also lonely, self-hating and suicidal."
But if Folau is the victor, who are the losers? Contrary to popular thought, the loser is neither a sporting code nor a large corporation. Nor even liberalism. The unseen casualties in this controversy are LGBTIQ+ people from Pacific Island and Christian communities. This saga reveals a homophobia deeply rooted in religious beliefs and cultural values. Folau, a Christian of Tongan descent, is merely a product of his environment.
I am using this article to publicly come out because I am troubled by a growing resentment towards LGBTIQ+ people. As a gay Samoan man and former pastor, I worry about the pain caused by the Folau saga and that Christianity will be characterised by politicking and gatekeeping rather than Jesus' love.
This is my story. I have spent most of my life in the closet. This included the many years when I was a pastor in south-west Sydney. Fear of judgment by my Christian colleagues and friends, and feeling responsible to those who looked up to me, prevented me from accepting myself.
When I became a born-again Christian, I was told celibacy was the remedy for homosexuality. Aged 25 and full of zeal, I argued with my siblings that Jesus trumped any fleeting happiness, including a relationship. In the ensuing years, I became immersed in the church’s ideology that gayness was akin to brokenness. I learnt that God wanted me to be “straight”.
When I was employed as a pastor, "praying the gay away" consumed me. I absorbed the Bible, books, sermons and talks. I attended courses, conferences and "conversion therapy" groups, since proven to be ineffectual and harmful. Innumerable prayers were prayed over me – and by me. I dated girls, hoping a magic straight switch would be activated. More than once, I fasted for 10 days.
After 15 years of effort without sustained success, I realised I was naive and misled. I was also lonely, self-hating and suicidal. After 11 years as a pastor, I resigned three years ago, turning my back on a vocation many told me I was I called to and gifted for.
While homophobia in Pacific Island nations can ultimately be traced back to our colonial history, our leaders have ensured that discrimination against LGBTIQ+ people remains entrenched. Lines between church and culture have converged into a set of untouchable rules and assumptions. Pacific diasporas in Australia or New Zealand cannot decipher where today’s accepted norms originated from and why.
What is clear is that a strain of fundamentalism has hijacked Pacific cultures and Christianity, in a manner that exhibits united disgust of all things gay. A recent example was the banning of Elton John’s movie Rocketman. Samoa’s principal censor said its homosexual theme “violates laws against same-sex marriage [which] doesn’t go well with cultural and Christian beliefs here”.
Andre Afamasaga, who is now assured that it is possible to be gay and Christian.
In a Pacific context, anti-gay stigma casts homosexuals as the ultimate example of societal decay. It is a symptom of a “last days” eschatology. Sermons routinely blame us for causing natural disasters and for undermining cultural purity and family values. Critics dissect our sexual habits with no intention of disclosing their own. These sanctimonious double-standards are farcical, but discriminatory and dangerous if legislated.
In the Cook Islands, a select committee is proposing to recriminalise homosexuality with imprisonment for same-sex acts – broadened to include females. In an opinion piece in the Cook Island News, John Dunn, a surgeon and philanthropist, issues this rebuke: “The real threats to our society include rape, domestic violence, institutional abuse and incest. Two women or two men loving each other is not a threat.”
While some leaders watch their words, ordinary Pacific folk are forthright. In May, The Sydney Morning Herald's chief sports writer, Andrew Webster, lamented that this debate could lead to further exclusion and distress for gay youth, citing this social media comment as a basis for concern: “Izzy [Folau] is not alone in his views … especially in the Pacific Island community. I've had boys my son's age tell me straight out: if any of their teammates were gay, they'd refuse to play with them.”
In an appeal to Folau, the first time he posted that hell awaited gay people, my colleague Tuiloma Lina-Jodi Samu warned that such remarks expose Pacific LGBTIQ+ people – an already vulnerable group – to further risk of suicide and harm.
Andre Afamasaga with a gay cousin, Monise Fata-Meafou, who gave him the courage to accept his sexuality.Credit: Supplied
So what now? As we approach the new year, imagine what would happen if the church truly echoed the example of its founder, a paragon of empathy and inclusion? If that is too big an ask, Pacific parents, please prioritise your children over your church.
I am dedicating this column to my cousin, Monise Fata-Meafou, who – because he grew up in a loving home where his sexuality was accepted – has always been a proud gay man. This did not change when he became a Christian. He showed me it was possible to be gay and Christian.
Andre Afamasaga works as a senior adviser at the New Zealand Human Rights Commission. This article is his personal opinion.