When the Reality of Being Queer in Christian-Identified Rural America Hit Home For Me

by James Finn in Society

Team Trump Just Killed a Queer Health Project Critical to My Wellbeing

All of us rural queers need some attention and respect

I was so happy to open an email last week from a research team studying the mental health of thousands of rural queer folk like me. I was genuinely excited to once again be able to do my part  — to make a positive contribution.

Before I finished reading, I was blinking away tears. Why?

Before I show you the email and write about the impact, let me tell you a little about myself.

I’m an older man in my 60s — queer, an activist, and a news junkie — not necessarily in that order. I live deep in the countryside of a very rural, very conservative county in northern Michigan. Many Confederate (!) flags and countless Trump posters greet me every time I drive into town for groceries or health care — reminding me that I’m isolated and surrounded by people who not only don’t share my values but sometimes actively wish ill on me and the people I love.

Reading the newspaper for my grocery store’s little town is difficult. So many articles and opinion pieces promote disinformation about queer people like me! They feel designed to stir up disrespect and even hatred, divorced from the typical, harmless, loving reality of real queer lives.

For example, one local pastor writes a weekly column about neighborliness and “Christian” values of love. He’s very popular. You should see the praiseful comments my neighbors left when he pledged to bar transgender people from the homeless shelter for which his church finally won a permit. The church almost didn’t get the permit, because some voters don’t want to encourage homeless people to come into the area and harm property values.

But excluding trans people wasn’t controversial at all. People around here approved with full throat, even though I’m sure almost none of them have ever met a trans person.

I live not far from Patmos, that town where taxpayers infamously defunded their library for carrying Heartstopper, Gender Queer, and other positive books about queer folks. Patmos is back in the news, by the way. After finally getting funding restored, most librarians resigned recently because the conservative library board was making life hell for them again over queer books. So, we’re back to no library.

This sort of thing eats at my self-worth and sense of safety.

I grew up in the same sort of toxic rural environment, and I fled the moment I could. It took me a while, but I eventually landed in urban communities (New York City, Montreal, Detroit) where queer people are just people — ordinary and usually accepted.

This isn’t merely erasure. It’s telling us that our health and wellbeing are unimportant, that we are so worthless to society that even collecting data on how we’re doing is objectionable and must end.

Now, here I sit, kicking myself for not understanding that retiring up here could be pretty darn bad for my mental health. It has been bad. I miss physical community badly, and there just isn’t any to speak of.

Sometimes, I think I’m flashing back to my very traumatized youth, reliving family and community rejection that came close to destroying me after my queerness became known and I refused conversion “therapy.” 

(Read my story, “LGBTQ Religious Trauma Almost Ended My Life.” Warning, discussion of suicidal ideation and suicide attempts.)

So, I volunteered to be a research subject.

For well over a year, I’ve been taking part in the REALM Project, “Rural Engagement & Approaches for LGBTQ + Mental Health.” REALM is designed to gather data on the mental health of us queer folk in rural areas, with emphases on certain subgroups like older people, neurodivergent people (I’m autistic), people of color, etc.

It’s an ambitious project, a study involving many thousands of subjects, designed to run for many years. Co-administered by researchers at Ivy League universities, the data is supposed to fill important gaps in societal understanding of queer people like me.

A few of the questions they’re trying to answer:

  1. What does healthcare access really look like for rural queers?
  2. Is mental healthcare truly accessible?
  3. Are rural queers more or less mentally healthy than their urban/suburban counterparts?
  4. How does aging factor in?
  5. Are rural queers of color more or less mentally healthy than White rural queers or urban/suburban queers of color?
  6. What sorts of strategies and practices work effectively for improving rural queer mental health?
  7. What sorts of strategies and practices are less effective?

The average reader might think we know or can intuit the answers to questions like this, but hard data is sorely lacking. The REALM team WANTED to help provide hard answers to tough questions, and I was determined to help, frequently filling out long, detailed, emotionally taxing, intrusive questionnaires.

I hated doing it, but I ground my teeth and did it anyway, hoping I was helping others with my candid emotional labor.

Notice how I’m using past tense.

It all came crashing down last week:

Dear REALM Family,

We are writing to share some unfortunate news. Substantial cuts to public health research and infrastructure by the U.S. government have significantly damaged universities’ ability to conduct LGBTQ+ and mental health research. While the REALM Study has not been formally terminated, we have not received our promised funding for this year, meaning we have no funds to continue study activities at this time. We are forced to pause all follow-up surveys and activities for now, with hopes that we will be able to resume in the future. We will communicate as soon as we receive any definitive answers about whether we will be able to resume or if the study is permanently closed.

We understand you may have questions and concerns. We hope the following information may help address some of these, but we will also continue to be available by phone, text or email.

I don’t know why I was surprised!

I’m a news junkie, after all. I KNOW the Trump administration is de-funding almost all science that even incidentally collects data about queer people — to the tune of about a billion dollars so far, according to The New York Times. I know the administration is terminating legal contracts without respect to regulations or law.

I even know somebody who’s close to a researcher who was forced out of government service because they were collecting data about queer folks.

Hell, the administration is even ending almost all AIDS treatment and prevention research, another traumatizing flashback to my youth.

This isn’t merely erasure. It’s telling us that our health and wellbeing are unimportant, that we are so worthless to society that even collecting data about how we’re doing is objectionable and must end.

It’s telling us we’re not worthy, valued neighbors.

Of course, I don’t have to internalize that message — none of us do. It’s a struggle, though, isn’t it? That’s the kind of thing that just sinks its teeth in and bites down hard.

We humans are intensely social beings. So, when the most powerful people in the nation join your neighbors sending messages that you’re worthless — well, not internalizing takes deliberate work, and sometimes it’s not obvious how to DO the work.

I tell myself I’m okay. I survived my youth, so I know I’m strong. I’m sure I can survive my senescence, at least until my body finally wears out as it must for all of us.

You know … I love living in the countryside. I love the natural beauty, the wildlife, gardening, birdwatching, buying my fruit and vegetables from local farmers. Drinking my ice-cold well water that tastes of summer. All that feels like a return to the best parts of my childhood.

So, I’m asking a question here to all my readers. Is this who we’re supposed to be as a nation? What’s happening to us that we’re sending messages of worthlessness to vulnerable people who just want to live and love?

Surely, we’re better than this!

Certainly, studying the mental health of marginalized groups should be something we invest in cheerfully.

Clearly, seeking to improve wellbeing for all should be a given for any society of healthy, fulfilled people.

So, why the exclusion? Why the stigmatization? Why cut off funds for scientists doing the work of the angels? Why stop trying to prevent and cure HIV/AIDS?

If you’re reading this, no matter where you fall on the political spectrum, I hope you can ask yourself these questions and pose them to your political leaders — from library board members, local counsel members, all the way up to your Congress reps and senators.

Because we seriously need to be better than this, and I think all people of good will know that deep inside. We just have to communicate it effectively!

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