Gay hazing

“Here, there are always brothers to hang out with and friends to lean on. This could be the student affairs office, campus police department, student health clinic, or college president’s office. “Come on, guys, come back!” he repeated, in a soft tone that bordered on pleading.

When we returned to the triangular pit, we found our five pledge masters seated within it, struggling to light a big, red triangular candle.

“Then, turn right at the boardwalk and continue until you find the rest of your pledge class.” We stepped into the rain and walked down a steep residential side street faintly lit by street lamps. It’s not about being gay or straight; it’s about who you are. It was a chance to embrace our imperfections and let go of judgment.

When it was my turn to share, it felt right to reveal an intense trauma that I had kept hidden for years.

After I stepped out of my truck, The Leader pointed down a road. Then he presented a daunting challenge: The last person to reach the ocean some 50 yards away would be cut from the pledge class.

“On my mark... “Leave your phones in the car,” commanded the intimidating young man with a permanent frown, tightened jaw, and ghostly pale skin.

However, I had attended a conformist Christian high school where gay people were often looked down upon, so I was unfamiliar with these types of organizations or what they might have been able to offer me. He made me seek validation from him, and he used it to take advantage of me.”

My sentences toppled over each other, spit flying from my quivering lips.

“It seemed like he wanted me to stay closeted forever — like my sexuality was our little secret,” I said.

It was the first time I had ever shared these traumatic memories with anyone.

His cry pierced the darkness and rallied the rest of us together. Shivering, we reached the boardwalk and turned right, walking about two miles, until we hit a stretch of beach obscured by towering power plants that blocked any view from the street. The other four pledge masters — dressed in all-black and looking as ominous as ever — stood 10 feet across from them.

“Fall in line, boys,” boomed one of the pledge masters.

You won’t be ‘the gay brother.’ You’ll be Tanner, our brother, who also happens to be gay.”

Three weeks in, my pledge brothers were already becoming some of my closest friends.

“It’s a trick!” another yelled.

During the first week of college, my mom, understandably protective, tried to dissuade me from rushing. You’re one of the coolest guys I’ve met, Tanner. Shivering, we reached the boardwalk and turned right, walking about two miles, until we hit a stretch of beach obscured by towering power plants that blocked any view from the street.

What could this mean?

An hour later, my palms choked the steering wheel of my Ford pickup truck as I drove from our fraternity house at the University of Southern California toward an unnamed address in Manhattan Beach. Brothers would ask, “What was coming out like?” and “How can we better support you?” My closet door was wide open.

If you are interested in the news, you can read the full text here. As the sun began to rise amidst the ongoing storm, a profound sense of connection overwhelmed me.