Michael Belcher This is Me

Education

 Web References

1. 1. The Fort Wayne News-Sentinel

   www.fortwayne.com/mld/newssent - [Cached]

   Published on: 5/1/2004   Last Visited: 5/1/2004

   (KRT) - Michael Belcher and Walter Houston stand in the cold outside the Coleman A. Young Municipal Center in Detroit. Surrounded by strangers, they're in the midst of a gay marriage rally.
   
   For months, Belcher, 33, and Houston, 43, have watched similar rallies on television.
   ...
   In the gay marriage struggle, Belcher and Houston represent a segment rarely seen in the national debate, but one that is important.
   
   Last year, the couple exchanged vows in a commitment ceremony in a small church in Ferndale, Mich. They're hopeful that their ceremony will be fortified by a marriage license.
   
   But Belcher and Houston have more to overcome than legal hurdles; they're also fighting culture.
   ...
   But to many Christians, both black and white, Belcher and Houston's love for each other is at odds with their faith.
   ...
   Belcher, with his tall, bulky frame, steps to the podium to lead the group in a series of praise songs.
   ...
   Belcher and Houston have been coming here since September 2001. A few months before, they met on the Internet. They had an instant connection, were both looking for something lasting.
   
   Houston liked Belcher because of his gentle nature. Belcher is 6-foot-4, but he's soft-spoken. In a room of people, he'll sit back and pick his spots to speak.
   
   Belcher liked Houston because he was confident. A former restaurant manager, Houston greets people with a constant smile. He isn't afraid to take charge.
   
   They both grew up on Detroit's east side. Both were raised by single mothers.
   
   Belcher was the oldest of five children. His mom, who has since died of breast cancer, was a meter reader and bill collector for the Michigan Consolidated Gas Company. His family lived in a brick townhouse not far from the riverfront.
   
   Houston, the oldest of eight children, grew up a few blocks away. He barely recognizes his old neighborhood. His childhood home, a faded yellow, wood-frame house, still stands, but several of the houses around it have been torn down.
   ...
   Belcher and Houston say they both knew they were gay by their teenage years but didn't come out until they were adults. In their neighborhood, being gay was associated with being weak and effeminate.
   
   Houston says he didn't fit in with people who were openly gay. He liked sports. He liked hanging out with straight guys.
   
   "There were openly gay people in my high school, but they were ostracized, they were harassed," Houston says.
   
   Of the two men, Belcher was more conflicted about being gay.
   
   His religious background caused him to struggle with his feelings. Belcher spent much of his free time in church. He sang in a gospel choir.
   
   After high school, Belcher went to William Tyndale College, a local Bible college. He graduated in 1997 with a degree in music and youth ministry.
   
   In the churches he attended, being gay was considered a sin. When he was 19 or 20 years old, Belcher remembers a fiery sermon about Sodom and Gomorrah. The pastor said homosexuality brought destruction on those cities.
   
   "The more he talked about it, the worse I felt," Belcher says.
   
   In his late 20s, Belcher left the mainstream church. He decided he couldn't be gay and attend a church that said homosexuality was a sin. He prayed. He studied the Bible. He came to the conclusion that there is nothing sinful about being gay.
   
   The Bible verses used to condemn gays were mistranslated or misinterpreted by the mainstream church, he says.
   
   He was comforted by verses such as Acts 13:39, "all who believe are justified from all things, from which ye could not be justified by the law of Moses."
   
   "I couldn't move forward until I knew beyond a shadow of a doubt what I was talking about," Belcher says.
   ...
   For almost three years, Belcher and Houston have shared a two-bedroom flat. Belcher is the road manager for a jazz band and music minister for New Covenant.
   
   Houston, who has spent his career working in restaurants, is trying to start his own restaurant and caters events as a side business.
   
   At first, Belcher was nervous about moving in with Houston. He told his family he and Houston were roommates. A year and half ago, Belcher started telling his family he was gay.
   
   "That's when I knew he was the one," Houston says. "I knew that he loved me enough that he would come out to his family, even though things would be negative."
   
   In December 2002, in the open testimony portion of their church service, Houston proposed to Belcher. They exchanged vows in August. It was one of the happiest days of their lives, and it rattled most of their family members.
   
   Belcher expected that.
   
   His relatives told him he was going against the Bible and God's intentions for men and women. When Belcher visited an uncle, he noticed that his uncle put anointing oil on his hand before extending it for a handshake. The oil is used by some evangelical Christians to ward off evil spirits.
   
   Belcher invited only four family members to the wedding.
   
   "I had just come out," Belcher says.
   ...
   Belcher and Houston exchanged vows because they wanted to, she says.
   ...
   Fitting in has been tough for Belcher and Houston. They have confronted both racism and misunderstanding.
   
   Before meeting Belcher, Houston dated both white and black men.
   
   His former white lovers had a poor image of black men from Detroit. They seemed surprised that he was well-spoken, had a good job and didn't do drugs, he says.
   
   "... If you grew up being taught that's the way it is and you don't try to go outside of the box, that's all you know," he says.
   ...
   That's when Belcher and Houston decided gay marriage was their issue. This wasn't just something happening someplace else.
   
   "It was a revelation for me to see that," Houston says. "I cannot stand back and let someone come in and say I don't exist."
   
   A few months after their friend's passing, Belcher and Houston were in downtown Detroit at the gay marriage rally. They were determined to make sure the crowd included a black Christian couple.
   
   Detroit residents need to see faces of gays and lesbians who live in Detroit - not just Ferndale, Royal Oak or other suburbs, Houston says.
   
   A few days after the rally, Belcher and Houston received a call from a friend who knew Belcher before he came out. The friend saw pictures of the couple on television and in the newspaper. He wanted to know why Belcher was going public.
   
   Houston took the call. He answered the questions.
   
   "I said, `He's still in church; he's still a Christian. What he's not doing is holding his head down in shame anymore,' " Houston says.
   
   Since the rally, Belcher and Houston have spoken at the Ruth Ellis Center, a Detroit community center for gay and lesbian teens.
   ...
   Belcher and Houston are part of the last group.
   ...
   Belcher moves in front.
   ...
   Belcher and Houston take communion and then leave the small sanctuary.
   
   They know outside they may not be accepted. But the wood-paneled sanctuary of this community center is safe, it's where they exchanged commitment vows, where their relationship as a couple is recognized and respected.
   
   Houston, though, says his commitment to Belcher will become a legal marriage.
   
   God, he says, accepts them. The government will, too.