October 6, 1998 marks the 30th anniversary of the Universal Fellowship of Metropolitan Community Churches -- the world's oldest and largest predominantly gay spirituality organization.
During 1968, three life-changing events deeply impacted the future of a defrocked Pentecostal minister by the name of Troy D. Perry -- and motivated him to look for a way to address the spiritual and social justice needs of the gay community.
First, in the midst of relationship break-up, Perry had unsuccessfully attempted suicide.
Second, a friend by the name of Carlos was falsely arrested by the Los Angeles Police Department for "lewd conduct" -- a catch-all term used to oppress and harass the gay community.
Third, in the face of police harassment, a group of gay men marched to the local Los Angeles police station and for the first time took a public stand for their dignity and civil rights.
These events took place one year before the historic Stonewall Riots.
In the following reminisces, Perry tells how these three events were used by God to plant a dream -- a dream of a church where gay men and lesbians would be welcomed, accepted and affirmed.
Out of that dream, the Rev. Troy D. Perry held the first worship service of the UFMCC. Twelve worshipers gathered in his home in Huntington Park, California at 1:30 PM on October 6, 1968 -- the first service of what today has become an international movement with more than 42,000 members and adherents in 15 countries, an annual income exceeding $15 million, and a powerful message of spiritual acceptance and affirmation for gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgendered persons.
The celebration of UFMCC's 30th Anniversary will begin in October 1998 and will culminate with the dedication of the UFMCC World Center in West Hollywood, CA and UFMCC International General Conference and World Jubilee in Los Angeles, CA in July, 1999.
NOTE: The following text was written by Rev. Perry in the early 1970's and reflects the sensibilities of those times. In the intervening years, Rev. Perry and the UFMCC came to embrace the use of inclusive language; however, we have left these original writings unchanged as they reflect the actual conditions and mindset of the times in which they were written.
THE REV. TROY D. PERRY:
I had time to reflect again on my attempted suicide. I felt that I had faced death, come face to face with it. I found that death wasn't the answer to anything. It is not through dying that we obtain salvation. It is through living and bettering the human condition for all. That is our fight. Through faith we can arm ourselves for our crusade.
I'm convinced that we must all walk through the Valley of the Shadow of Death, and yet, fear no evil; that means having no fear of death. And that walk through the valley means a work tour. Our work is one of struggle to free our souls from bigotry, from prejudice, from the dehumanizing forces that attack us. My work is only a small part of that. I know that the God I worship is colorblind. He understands all tongues, all thoughts, all feelings and deeds. It was God the Creator who set in motion all that propels us.
It took my acceptance of my own homosexuality for me to realize that all the barriers of prejudice must come down, not only in my own area of lifestyle, but in all areas of intolerance.
After my suicide attempt, I would hit the gay spots once in awhile. Usually I went with Willie Smith on his night off.
I ran into Carlos again several times. When we were together, whatever happened, happened. Sometimes it was a sexual embrace, sometimes it was just having a beer, going for a swim at the beach, or whatever we felt like doing. And we hit the bars. We used to talk about our basic beliefs, but Carlos would never even let me make any mention of religious beliefs. He had mentioned that he had belonged to a church, but, he agreed with Willie Smith, for him it was not the answer.
Then Carlos got busted. For what? Well, just for buying a beer in a gay bar. He had done absolutely nothing else. He was there with me, and with a couple of friends of ours. One of the other fellows with us was also taken in. I mentioned in my introduction to this book how shaken we all were by this experience. It was so unjust. It was just another example of "man's inhumanity to man." Then, when his cup of bitterness spilled over, he said, "God doesn't care!" When I recovered from that cold, hard statement I knew I had to act. I knew my course. With each passing day I drew closer to founding a church that would reach into the souls of the homosexual community. My mind was made up.
I used to have to fight to keep it from occupying all of my thoughts while I was at work. I knew that the mission was coming into focus. God wanted me to start a new church that would reach into the gay community, but that would include anyone and everyone who believed in the true spirit of God's love, peace, and forgiveness.
My learning experience sped up. The Lord was really getting me ready. I knew that the word "church" would be in the title. In my free time, I used to try to decide what the rest of the title would be, and just what kind of church did God really want me to found.
I would sit in that little office in back of the yardage department and pray and think. I would say, "What about that, God?" I knew He wanted a church where He could move. I think that's why "church" was always in the title. Then I would ask the Lord if it was to be really an outreach into the gay community. So the word "community" got into the title. The more I thought about it, the more I liked it. Community meant a feeling of comradeship, a small area, a place where you knew everybody. So, it would be a community church. We would also serve a large community; we would serve the whole Los Angeles area. Los Angeles is a large urban area, so the word "metropolitan" finally came to mind, and it stuck.
Then I had to worry about how I was going to reach the gay community. There's always the grapevine, but church services and religion aren't usually part of that. The grapevine is for gossip and action, mostly.
But, I was a happy individual. Willie Smith saw me walking around the house humming, smiling, and full of energy. He nailed me about it one day. He said, "I know you don't have a new lover, because you'd have him under foot. But what's eating on you?"
So, I leveled with him. I said, "Well, Willie, I'm sure that God wants me to start a new church." Willie just collapsed and said, "Oh, my God, I thought you were all over all that silliness."
I said, "Wait a minute, Willie. This is a church for us, it will serve the homosexuals, the gay community."
Well, Willie thought that was crazy. He said, "You mean you really are serious about this religious stuff?"
I assured him that I was, I said, "I know, Willie, that it's the thing to do. I've got to try it and see if I can't bring a message, God's message, to all the gay people."
What Willie wanted to know was this: "How're you going to organize a bunch of queens, and get them to follow any religion, or any person, or do anything together? You know how bitchy we are. We always act individually. Nobody has ever organized the gay community into anything and accomplished anything. It's a ridiculous as trying to get a bunch of crazies in the funny farm to act as a team."
I told Willie I would go ahead anyway. He wanted to know where and when. I said, "Just as soon as I can get rolling. And we'll do it right here."
Willie was horrified. He said, "You've got to be kidding. I'm already too much for Huntington Park. And you're going to have all those faggots from Hollywood down here running in and out of our house to attend church services? The neighborhood just can't take the strain!"
I said, "All right, Willie, relax, I'm going to do it!"
He just looked at me again, and said, "Okay. If your're going to do it, go ahead. But don't be too disappointed if it doesn't happen. Helping queens get religion isn't anybody's bag. But if it does work, count me in."
Then I asked Lee Glaze down at The Patch [a local bar] about it. Lee thought it would be just great. I asked him what he thought was the best way to reach the gay community. He thought it over.
While he was thinking, I said, "I'm going to advertise it in The Advocate, I guess. What do think about it?"
He said, "That's a great idea. As a matter of fact, it happens that the editor of The Advocate and his lover are here in The Patch tonight. Would you like to meet them?"
I was eager to, so I went into Lee's side office near the bar. He brought in Dick and Bill, and made the introductions. We started talking, and I explained my plans. They looked at me as if I was a little weird. They were skeptical about what I was trying to do. Was this some kind of business venture? Was I trying to capitalize on gay people? Just what was I up to? They got on a long discussion of what they thought about people who cashed in on, and often took, the gay community for money with nothing in return. They made it clear that they hated exploitation. They weren't sure that they wanted to sell me any advertising at all. So I really gave them my pitch. When we finished, they not only took the ad, they gave me a good rate on it. They also told me that they might, just might, even attend a service at Metropolitan Community Church (MCC), if it ever got started.
The Advocate was published only once a month, I would advertise in the October issue which would hit the street the last week of September. So, I set the date for my first service. It was October 6, 1968. I had about two weeks then between the ad and the first encounter.
Just about ten days before the first service, my mother came down to see me. She and her husband were separating, and she was going to go back home to Florida for a vacation. She knew of my suicide attempt, of course, and she kept much closer contact with me. I visited her as frequently as I could.
Again, I'm going to have her tell, in her own words; something of the way she saw it.
"I couldn't feel a lot of things back then, when Troy was going through all of this. In our background, everything was a sin. And it surely took a lot of thinking and praying to really realize that many of the old strict ways we were raised with just aren't what it's all about. The real sin is hate and being inhuman to each other.
"That's how we all sin against the homosexuals. I'm glad that I've been able to discard that attitude in my life. I remember that after Troy got out of the army, and came back to Los Angeles, he really was kind of lost. He didn't have his wife or his sons. And he had, come out,' as they say in the gay world. He living with us for a time in Los Angeles, and then he moved to Huntington Park. But he was troubled, and it was a trouble that was deep inside him. It wasn't us, nor any of the rest of the family. We all knew about him, and we accepted him and loved him. Whatever he was and whatever he wanted to be was just fine with us. And we all stood with him, stood by him.
"One day, I visited with Troy at his home in Huntington Park. He seemed kind of distracted, like he was about to explode. I was afraid that he was losing interest in his faith, in any kind of church or religion. And we were talking, I said to him, "Troy, have you ever thought about starting a church?" Well, that stunned him. I guess I must have really read his mind. And I wasn't as used to the homosexual life then as I am now. I couldn't see into it. But we were talking, and he told me that what was eating at his heart was that a friend of his had been arrested - busted as they call it - on some kind of homosexual charge or other. And he told how much that boy needed help. And I said to him, "Well, haven't you ever thought about starting a church for homosexuals?" Well, a change came over him, and he looked at me and that was it. He said that that was just what he was going to do. He looked so fierce and intent. He said that it had been uppermost in his mind for several weeks, but especially the last few days.
"We discussed it a bit more, then I went away. I went back and visited with my family for a time in Florida."
I began to share my dream for the church with the gay guys and gals I met. They almost all had the same reaction that Willie Smith had had. Some told me to forget it, adding that most gays had made their peace with themselves, and that peace didn't include religion. I knew, then, how hard the job would be. We had gone through generations, even centuries, of that awful conviction that if you were a homosexual you could not be a child of God; you could not be a Christian.
I was really shoveling sand against the tide to get started.
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