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Collin Brice – Mental Health and Sexuality

  • Writer: Sam
    Sam
  • Mar 5, 2024
  • 6 min read


Collin Brice is a Christian, a Speech-language pathologist, and author of “Birds, Bees and Me,” a memoir that narrates experiences of sexuality, suffering, mental health and sexual abuse in the church. I sat down with him a couple of years ago and had a chat with him. 


 

**Reader Warning: This article mentions sexual abuse. If you need someone to chat to please reach out for support.

America:

Australia:

 

 

Sam: Collin when I read your book and your journey, it reminds me a lot of similar conversations that I have when I used to minister in the areas of sexuality and gender. You wrote:

 

“to be a gay man immersed in the evangelical church is to exist in a grey area where most people only know of black and white.

 

No, it is to be the grey area, and to desperately need to be understood.” (p.15)

 

Collin: I can only speak for my context and what I’ve heard others share with me, but my concise answer is: it means letting go of fear. I remember not wanting to even hear from people of other perspectives because it might mean I was led astray and lose my salvation as a result. It’s pretty ingrained in Christians of my context to bubble ourselves in lest we go to hell, which is really sad to me! It’s led to a really one-dimensional and anaemic communal faith. One of the sad advantages of being a celibate gay Christian in the South is that I had to work out my salvation with “fear and trembling” every day for about a decade. That produced a lot of negative things for me, but the Lord has affirmed again and again that getting an answer wrong does not mean he stops loving me.

 

The “grey-ness” that I experienced is a freedom I wish more people in my community could experience. Those who aren’t so fearful tend to be the ones who can love me and other queer people well.

 

Sam: There’s a scene in your book that continues to stay in my mind, as you tried to come to terms with being both attracted to the same sex and a Christian it led you down deep painful moments where you sat and cried in your Prius at an empty carpark in the middle of the night.

 

Collin: That’s a good example of the “existing-in-the-grey.” In some ways, I think those are some of the sweetest memories I will have in this life because I did not experience any of those nights alone. I always had a friend who would drive more than thirty minutes, sometimes without me asking them to or even telling them where I was. The straight, evangelical men in my life were not afraid to put all their weight on me, hold my hand, or gently kissed my gay self while I sobbed uncontrollably. Luckily thanks to counselling and anti-depressants, I haven’t had a moment like that in about five years. Now we kiss each other or will hold hands out of joy for life instead of grief! We all need people in our life who will show up for both. Trey Celaya, who authored my foreword, was one of those people. He advocated a lot for me while I was still in the closet. It’s something I hope becomes an expectation in the church instead of viewed as exceptional.

 

Sam: Tell us more about how Trey advocated for you?

 

Collin: There are so many ways! Most of them are ordinary because that is how life is. He spoke up many times when I was in the closet when someone said something a little homophobic in group messages. He lets me be the teacher about my experiences (which is, in my opinion, a huge feat for those of us existing in evangelical circles). He rolls his eyes when pastors speak insensitively about sexuality. These have set an example of what it means to stand side by side with me, giving other people in my circles an example to follow. It is exhausting being my own advocate all the time, and Trey has taken on some of that burden throughout our friendship. Bearing some of my burden is probably how he knows to roll his eyes in the first place.

 

Sam: It felt to me when you gave voice to Ana’s story of sexual abuse in the book, you were advocating for her and the many other people who have had confusing, abusive and traumatising experiences in the church. It’s not often that sexual abuse is spoken about in Christian settings. What compelled you to do it?

 

Collin: I’ve never experienced sexual abuse, but there was something about her abuse that really resonated with me. Ana, who was the victim, was dehumanized and forced into experiences which stigmatized her to the local community. At that time, it was not appropriate for her to talk about her experiences even though she was innocent and helpless. I find that parallels often with how I experience my own local community. There is a lot I must not bring up in order to belong, even though my experiences with sexuality are often morally neutral or out of my control. On top of that, the community that we were once part of wrote this particular abuse off with platitudes of ‘christian-ese’ that didn’t bring healing or reality to the situation. I gave it a voice alongside my story as a way to practice true empathy.

 

As a speech-language pathologist, I am reminded every day that interacting with stories, not just transmitting the facts, is what changes our relationships with people or concepts, and this is no exception.

 

Sam: And this very mindset and advocacy seems to effuse your everyday care for young people with disabilities. While interacting with a patient named Bradley, who cried uncontrollably, you  reflected,


“how often do I myself identify with his autistic tears? MY questions and pondering, as usual, are met with silence. I thrash and scream as much as Bradley. I remind God that I ask similar questions about myself. Why are often the simplest things so overwhelming to me? Why can friends and mentors find me in a fetal position sometimes multiple times a month, and have to hold me in their arms for long hours while I mourn and panic over my sexuality and loneliness? I get no answer, and I can produce no answer.” (p.52)

 

How have your interactions with people with disabilities profoundly impacted how you process your faith and sexuality?

 

Collin: It has certainly opened my eyes to how ableism has impacted my own theology. Sexuality is no exception. I initially thought my job as a speech-language pathologist was to help people with disabilities integrate into how I experience life. I am still early in my career, but I am learning that my role is so much more often about helping my patients advocate for themselves. We work together to educate people in breaking down the systems which exclude the disabled from participating in and enjoying life. To close that divide usually costs both parties something, but the trade-off is always worth it. It took me advocating for others to finally realize that I belonged as well. I deserved more than the scraps that fell off the table, but deserved rich, honest community that didn’t demand I lie in order to belong. In the same way I attempt to educate people in order to create belonging for those with disabilities, so too I have learnt that churches need to create spaces for their LGBT+ siblings. I thought I was too defective to belong, but it turns out that I have a lot to give that others need, and there is no time to live dishonestly.

 

Sam: “So I’m going to keep shouting for now. I’m going to lean into what I’m feeling, believing in my unbelief that I am not alone – and I don’t think I’m alone.” (p.54)

 

You now have a lot of friends and family around you who support you in walking faithfully with Jesus. Someone might be reading this and feeling exactly how you felt, can you speak to them? 

 

Collin: That’s a great question, and one I’m fearful to speak to because LGBT+ and same-sex attracted people exist in every context. There’s a lot diversity there and I don’t understand every context we exist in. But I would say if you are feeling alone, be patient. You are allowed to cry out and say “that’s not fair” when you experience loneliness or rejection because of who you are. You are allowed to ask the questions too scary to utter even in your prayers. You’re allowed to ask for help. You are fearfully and wonderfully made, and the experience of being LGBT+ is a beautiful, nuanced wisdom that straight people need you in order to learn from. You’re allowed to look Jesus in the eyes when he sees you and says “I’m so glad you’re you!” You’re allowed.

 

You can get a copy of the book here: “Birds, Bees and Me.”

 

 If you need someone to chat to please reach out for support,


America: call 988 (https://988lifeline.org/), 1-800-273-8255 (Suicide Prevention Hotline), 888-843-4564 (LGBT National Hotline).


Australia: Lifeline (13 11 14), 1800 RESPECT (1800 737 732), Beyond Blue (1300 22 4636 ), or MensLine (1300 78 99 78).



 
 
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