Challenging God...Adam Did It...

The last stanza of Langston Hughes’ poem, Café: 3 a.m., says,

“Police lady or Lesbian
over there?
Where?”1

To me, this highlights many of the themes that surround the issue of homophobia. Fear is a driving motivational factor that influences the actions and attitudes of a large percentage of the population. That fear can take many forms: fear for personal safety, fear of others, fear of rejection, fear of neglect, fear of the unknown, and many more. I believe that Hughes is making a point that society would do well to take note of. Externally, you generally cannot tell if someone is homosexual. Homosexuality is not a disease or a disorder; there is no logical reason for a person to fear someone that is homosexual. In my mind, acts such as hate crimes stem from fear; the only plausible solution that can be seen by that those who cannot accept things different from themselves seems to be to eliminate the threat. History will tell us that humans are creatures of habit. That which is established generally continues to exist, and ideas can often be accepted simply because they have been accepted for an extended period of time. Just because something has been practiced for hundreds of years, does that make it correct? Make it righteous? I think not. Perhaps the most obvious example of something that has existed for centuries but might not be completely correct is the Bible’s decree about homosexuality.

The Bible denounces homosexuality, and calls it “a detestable sin.”2 In a country where religion, particularly Christianity, at times seems to play a prominent role in the government, how can we expect to overcome this seemingly stifling ultimatum? I say the religious look again to the Bible. As a non-religious person, I admit my naiveté about the teachings of the Bible or how they are to be followed. However, doesn’t Adam defy God and eat from the tree of the knowledge of good and evil? Yes, Adam and Eve are subsequently expelled from the Garden of Eden, and man is born into sin because of it, but I refuse to believe that this story of the origin of man is simply to serve as a template for what not to do, and something that establishes that man has to work his way out of sin. If the original Adam, the Adam that God created, was created “in his [God’s] own image,”3 this person should represent the ideal. Adam’s capability to defy God should then symbolize man’s own ability to defy God. Yes, the Bible does say that homosexuality is wrong, but since Adam has the ability to defy God, so too should man now have the ability to defy God. This is the type of person that God created, again, “in his own image.” Ultimately, based on my interpretation of the model of Adam, I believe that the Bible itself encourages man to challenge it, and to make decisions like Adam did, even if it requires falling from the grace of God. Just as God’s very explicit decree that if Adam ate from the tree he was “sure to die,” so too is the Bible’s decree to man that he is detestably sinning if he practices homosexuality. Let us look to God’s creation in his own image, and follow his example. We must do what we are compelled to do, even if it goes against God’s decree. Something tells me that even if I were religious, I would not listen to a text that so explicitly said to hate another group of people. I would instead question and challenge it, just as Adam questioned and challenged God.

1Hughes, Langston. Café: 3 a.m.
2Bible. Leviticus 18:22.
3Bible. Genesis 1:27.

Special Camp

I got down on my knees, unbuttoned his pants, and slid them to his ankles. There we were, alone in the bathroom at Knott’s Berry Farm. As I struggled to change his diaper, Sam let out a blood-curdling scream and ferociously bit the scarred part of his hand between his thumb and forefinger. I tried, to no avail, to pull his pants up, to calm him, to do something to abate the panic overwhelming both of us. At the time, Sam was a six-year-old boy with autism. I was a first year counselor with no idea how to handle the situation before me. This was the first of my now five years with Special Camp for Special Kids, a non-profit organization that pairs a counselor with a child with a disability.

When I think back on my years with Special Camp, what I remember most are my campers’ laughs: Sam’s slow approach to a smile, then his quick, rhythmic laughter; Brianka’s hysterical giggles that followed us everywhere we went; Alexa’s shrieks as she clapped her hands and smiled; Scott’s slight smirk and low, quick laugh. Though our times together were not all joyful, those moments are what stand out most in my memory. What began as an educational summer experience has become the most formative adventure of my life.

At Camp, I have been hit, spit at, bitten, cursed at, and kicked. I have had to talk even if I got not response, and act calm even if I wasn't. So why do I do it? The truth of the matter is that Special Camp has made as much of an impact on my life as it has on the campers’ lives. It has given me tremendous insight and perspective into many facets of life, with or without a disability.

“Get a real disability!” A man in a wheelchair screamed at us for using a disability pass to get my group on a roller coaster because he felt his broken leg was more of a disability than autism. “It’s not fair! What’s wrong with me?” Alexa wept as she watched other campers run into the ocean, confined to her wheelchair by cerebral palsy. “Give him some sedatives! He should be in an institution!” The exasperated woman at the bowling alley shrieked at me as one of our campers ran across the top of her lane. These are the moments that cause my face to redden and my stomach to tighten; I feel the hatred and stereotypes that these children deal with continuously. These moments are not like a difficult exam or opening night of a play: they are piercing and illuminating, showing you life through another’s eyes, thus forcing you to more clearly see life through your own.

Reflecting on my years with Special Camp, I recognize that I have changed and grown in ways that I never could have imagined. I have learned to accept and embrace those who are different from me, and to value the new ways of seeing the world that they offer. I have learned how to remain calm in even the most frustrating of circumstances. I have learned to relish even the smallest of successes. Hearing Sam, whose severe autism limited his vocabulary to three words, say my name unprompted was as rewarding as any other possible achievement. My experiences with the campers have taught me how to show as well as tell my feelings, and how to be sensitive and compassionate in any circumstance. Special Camp has truly revealed to me the lasting influence that one person can have on another – the influence I have had on my campers, and the influence my campers have had on me. I can think of no better example of this than my experience as Sam’s counselor. I initially struggled to connect with Sam, each day bringing in a new assortment of books and music for him. Eventually, I brought in an Enya CD, thinking that this music might reach him. He listened to it every day, and I gave him his own Enya CD as a gift at the conclusion of camp. When I saw him walk into camp the following year with his mother, I immediately noticed that he had headphones on. I walked quickly over to them, and as I hugged him, I could hear Enya emanating from his headphones. A huge smile came over my face as I realized that Sam was still listening to the CD that I had given him. It is moments like this that make me return to camp every year - the moments of human connection that make the moments of struggle fade away.