Learning About LGBTQIA+ Experiences in Burke County
As more and more conversations about LGBTQIA+ issues and identities surface, Burke residents have increased chances to listen empathetically and learn.
Last February, Susan Cato-Chapman had the opportunity to compete in Dancing with the Burke Stars, a charity event where several notable residents participate in dance numbers to earn money for local causes.
What should have been a celebratory evening, however, was tainted by fear and unease. For Cato-Chapman, this atmosphere had little to do with stage fright or pre-performance jitters, but a much more menacing threat altogether.
“We had to hire a bodyguard when I performed in Dancing with the Stars because I danced with a woman and I was afraid I was going to be shot,” she told an audience of more than 40 people gathered at the Morganton Community House on December 4th. “I laugh but it’s not really that funny. I was actually pretty scared. My mom told me, ‘Please, don’t do it.’”
The threat of violence and constant barrage of dehumanizing treatment takes its toll on LGBTQIA+ folks living in Morganton—especially the youth.
In fact, 41% of LGBTQIA+ young people (those aged 13-24) in the United States have “seriously considered attempting suicide in the past year,” according to a 2023 study by the Trevor Project, a nonprofit organization focused on preventing suicide.
The same report indicates suicidal ideation is even higher among young people who are transgender, nonbinary, and/or people of color, while also noting that fewer than 40% of LGBTQIA+ young people find their home to be LGBTQIA+-affirming.
Given the status-quo social tendencies common throughout the Foothills region, it’s fair to presume suicide ideation rates are even higher in Burke County.
Unpacking the Meaning of LGBTQIA+
Cato-Chapman was the featured speaker for the evening’s event organized by the Industrial Commons (TIC) as part of its “Common Ground” series, a community engagement program aimed at providing education about diverse groups and issues of regional interest.
This dinner’s learning objective focused on breaking down the differences between sex, gender, and sexual orientation, in hopes of establishing a shared vocabulary around the experiences of LGBTQIA+ folks in Burke County.
“Language is a powerful tool, but it can sometimes be used as a weapon,” she explained. “Words can change an atmosphere in the blink of an eye. We live in a society that values the dichotomy of choice. It’s black or white; yes or no; male or female. And in this ideology, there is no room for anything that doesn’t live within the confines of that binary. While this is easier in its simplest form, it cannot encompass the vast, many perspectives and lived experiences that are out there in the world.”
Language is always evolving to become more useful or better reflect the experiences of people during particular times and places. However, that constant evolution is frequently challenging for those entrenched in established ways of speaking.
This becomes especially evident when discussing such complex social issues.
“We are at a point in our community where these topics are beginning to be discussed more openly,” said Dr. Leslie McKesson, Senior Director of Community Engagement at TIC. “It is often helpful to start with a common context and shared vocabulary to have these conversations.”
We’ve witnessed a major influx of new terms in recent decades, as the manifold experiences of historically marginalized people and identities have been given greater opportunities to be heard. We see this, for instance, in the mainstreaming of LGBTQIA+, an acronym McKesson elaborated upon during the evening’s introductory presentation.
“My role tonight is to share some conceptual information with you about LGBTQIA+,” she continued. “There are lots and lots of terms that are hard to keep up with, but they are all part of this spectrum.”
This lengthy acronym has been added to through the years to become more inclusive of the diverse lived experiences of people who have felt othered by stagnant language or marginalized by limiting binaries. It stands for lesbian, gay, bisexual, trans, questioning/queer, intersex, and asexual.
The plus sign has more recently been attached to provide further space for other identities not represented by letters in the acronym.
McKesson also clarified the differences between three interconnected concepts: sexual orientation, gender identity, and the sex one is assigned at birth, or what some refer to as biological sex.
Assigned sex is based on medical factors including genitalia, chromosomes, and hormones. Typically, one is “assigned” male, female, or intersex at birth by their doctor. Often overlooked, intersex refers to when a person’s reproductive or primary sex characteristics don’t fit neatly into so-called “traditional” notions of male or female.
McKesson highlighted several non-Western cultures that have acknowledged intersex or a third sex for centuries, including hijra in India, and two-spirit people in numerous Native American cultures (including the Cherokee who occupied much of southern Appalachia prior to European settlement).
Assigned sex is different from gender identity, which refers to how one sees themselves in relation to the norms society attaches to binary genders. It’s sometimes viewed as “an internal sense” of how one relates to the sex they were assigned at birth, regardless of how they present outwardly.
Gender expression, on the other hand, speaks to the way a person communicates their gender identity to others through behavior, clothing, hairstyles, voice, or body characteristics.
In other words, gender is influenced by the surrounding culture and norms of a person’s community and is the authentic understanding of one’s self. In addition to being assigned male, female, or intersex at birth, a person may also identify as agender, bigender, cisgender, genderfluid, non-binary, and transgender, to name a few.
“For example, I was assigned female at birth,” she continued. “I identify as female. So I am cisgender. Now, that has nothing to do with who I am attracted to. That has nothing to do with who I am romantically attracted to. Transgender refers to a person who was born with a certain biological assignment by the doctor, but that person doesn’t identify with it.”
Sexuality is the third piece of this framework, referring to the person or persons to whom one is physically, emotionally, and romantically attracted. This features an extensive list of identities, as well, including heterosexual (or “straight”), lesbian, gay, androsexual, asexual, bisexual, demisexual, and pansexual.
Assigned sex, gender, and sexual orientation are distinct concepts and operate independently of each other, meaning people use a wide-ranging combination of these labels to form a portion of their personal identity.
Growing Up Gay in Burke County
In 1994, when most of her peers were focused on going off to college and enjoying becoming adults, Cato-Chapman was dealing with the adversity of coming out to family, friends, and neighbors in Burke County. The “Don’t ask, don’t tell” policy—the official stance of the federal military regarding service by lesbian, gay, and bisexual individuals—had just gone into effect.
“Though at the time that was viewed as pretty progressive, it was discrimination in its purest form,” she said. “It set the model for a lot of things. Back in Morganton, I was busy adopting the ‘Didn’t ask, don’t care’ policy. I was 18, and so excited that I knew exactly who I was that I told everyone I could.”
Once out of the closet, she had decided she would “be an ambassador for anybody who felt like they couldn’t come out and be who they were,” she said. “I tried to help people where they felt unsafe. There is not a day that goes by since I’ve come out, that I haven’t had to come out in some way.”
During this period, she recalls being let go from a job because she wasn’t “willing to engage in a physical encounter with a male manager.” She believed she had experienced an injustice related to her being gay, but admits she was “scared to come out” about the incident, so she “kept quiet.”
Among the harrowing experiences she had growing up gay in Burke County, Cato-Chapman says she lost friends, was routinely heckled with obscene gestures in local stores, and was even shunned by family members who wouldn’t accept her—hardships common to many folks in the LGBTQIA+ community.
Due to a lack of LGBTQIA+ representation or visibility while coming of age in the Foothills region, she expressed having a lack of mentors who could guide her into adulthood.
“I had a fairly tumultuous love life due to the fact that I hadn’t had a functioning relationship as a lesbian, and I didn’t have any relationship role models,” she recalled. “I felt alone. I felt pretty scared as I tried to navigate how to live life while balancing school, money, and figuring out how my queerness was affecting my ability to live the life I had planned to live.”
Now a fourth-grade teacher at the Morganton Day School, she believes things have improved only slightly. “Growing up in Morganton was not easy,” she continues. “It still isn’t easy, but it is easier.”
Many young people still feel they have to conceal their identities from friends and family for fear of the fallout.
“I consider myself a youth and pansexual,” audience member Martha Evans said during the Q&A portion of the event. “I’ve noticed that a lot of gay youth here are typically very hidden but they’re ‘out’ on social media. So it’s kind of a struggle for us to come out in public and be openly gay. It’s not that common. But on social media or dating app profiles, we’ll see that they identify as gay, but in person or public, they’re still in the closet. I wonder if it’s due to age. For me, I’m open and I’ll tell people that I’m pansexual. A lot of people presume I’m lesbian and that’s it. They think I don’t have any interest in men based on how I dress.”
The teenage and early adult years are challenging for anybody, but having to regularly manage dehumanizing treatment, anti-LGBTQIA+ legislation, threats of physical violence, or the loss of friendships and relationships with family members is a burden that many straight or cisgender folks don’t have to shoulder.
Mistreated and Marginalized
To capture what it’s like being LGBTQIA+ in Burke County, Cato-Chapman shared two stories with the group, the first referring to when she and her ex were pregnant.
“We went to the hospital because there was an issue with some blood pressure,” she remarked. “In the ER, as we were waiting to be seen, a man came up to us, observed us in our state, and decided he was going to tell us then that we were horrible for bringing a child into the world with two moms.”
But his unsolicited condemnation didn’t stop at that.
“There we were trying to figure out what our next move was. He lectured us until we were in a complete frenzy. And here I was just thrilled that I had packed a bag three weeks in advance. Everybody thought I was crazy and now I was actually the hero of the story. But then I had to deal with this. Suddenly I’m pushing down feelings of anger in order to not let anybody mar this beautiful and already stressful event. 28 hours later we were parents.”
Her second story, however, offered a glimmer of hope for LGBTQIA+ folks living in Burke County.
“The night before,” she continued, “we decided to go out to eat in what we correctly believed would be one of the last times we would be able to go out to eat. As we entered the restaurant, there was a server who was taking a smoke break. He stopped and looked up from his phone, and took us in, and then he just simply said, ‘Mazel, guys.’”
She cried on both occasions for very different reasons, concluding, “And that’s what it feels like to be gay.”
Making Morganton More Empathetic
When asked how supportive Morganton is of the LGBTQIA+ community, Cato-Chapman replied, “I think there are moments of greatness, but we’re still working and pushing toward that. We have to acknowledge the fact that even in 2023 we’re still scared just to be who we are. I’m sitting here thinking, ‘Wow, two steps forward, three steps back.’”
While institutional support for LGBTQIA+ folks remains sparse, some groups and businesses are creating safe places, including Adventure Bound Books, Moondog Pizza, Foothills Pride, and PRISM WNC, a recently formed grassroots organization whose stated mission is to “celebrate and affirm the LGBTQIA+ community, including family and allies, across generations, in Burke, McDowell, and Caldwell Counties.”
PRISM WNC frequently organizes social events for both youth and adults. In fact, this year they became the first LGBTQIA+ group to be featured in Morganton’s Holiday Parade.
"Participating in the parade was a wonderful and fun experience,” said Kelly Latta, an organizer from PRISM WNC. “We generally felt more positivity from the attendees and fellow parade participants than negative reaction. It is so very important for marginalized groups to see real-life representation in their area to inspire hope. We are so grateful for the support of Downtown Morganton and the Main Street Office, and believe that loving growth and acceptance of the LGBTQIA+ community will continue to bloom here."
Cato-Chapman asserts that the little progress Morganton has made toward greater inclusion has been the direct result of clear action.
“Action is needed so that everyone’s story can be heard,” she said.
Instead of wishing a friend or loved one wasn’t gay so their life wouldn’t have to be so hard, she encouraged attendees to “acknowledge it and process it on your own. Outwardly show action by offering support and solutions for your loved one. Don’t be another reason their life has to be hard. Support unconditionally.”
She believes a simple way of doing this is to honor a person’s preferred pronouns or name.
“When someone is referred to with the wrong pronoun or name, you can make them feel disrespected, dismissed, alienated, or dysphoric,” she said. “Apologizing for the mistake puts that person in a place of vulnerability where they ultimately have to tell you ‘It’s okay.’ If you make a mistake, take ownership and do your best not to do it again. Being open about labels is about sharing a part of oneself. It normalizes conversations about gender and identity.”
Ultimately, for Cato-Chapman, effective change is brought about through education.
“I can’t make you feel differently,” she said. “We all grow up with our unique values based on the narrative that was taught to us, usually contingent on how our parents think or what we were taught to believe in our faith. When we’re exposed to something different than what we believe or understand, we’re given that opportunity to grow and evolve. Over the years I’ve learned that living this authentic life requires patience and willingness to live openly while being able to stand your ground when needed. And to educate, always, always educate.”
An encouraging read!