"Our community has been pioneers in love," Brandon says. "We've insisted on loving someone of the same sex despite many people telling us we were sick or wrong. Now we have to love our enemies. It's not just needed but necessary. If we want any real change in our own lives and in our community, we have to love. That's when the real change will happen — when the gay community has more self-love."
Corpus Christi has drawn protests from religious groups, and Brandon regularly receives letters warning him that he's going to hell. None of that fazes him — he writes back, telling them he understands their passion, and that they are in his prayers.
PHOTO BY ANNE FISHBEIN
James Brandon, actor and co-founder of I Am Love: Being abused as a child "was an easy way to ... not take responsibility for myself."
PHOTO BY ANNE FISHBEIN
Andrew Extein, of Silver Lake, finds West Hollywood's gay mecca "not very life-affirming."
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"It's not an easy path, at first, to live a more authentic, conscious path," Brandon says. "We have the opportunity to make an impact in this world. Why are we here? Just to be miserable? No. It's to be happy and give back to the world. To go against that goes against your true nature of being."
Many religious leaders, such as Rev. Jerry Falwell, TV evangelist Pat Robertson and influential evangelical writer and radio host James Dobson, among others, have used God's "word" as proof that gays are sinners and lead unnatural lives.
But for decades gays and lesbians have turned their lives around aided by spiritual concepts, most notably those of Alcoholics Anonymous, which has thrived in gay communities in West Hollywood, Los Angeles and elsewhere.
Toby Johnson, the Austin-based writer of the award-winning book Gay Spirituality, tells the Weekly that spirituality can be especially helpful in guiding gay men to treat themselves and each other with more respect. "What the spiritual traditions offer is a sense of meaning in life for everyone," Johnson says. "Things matter. God, or a higher power, loves you, and that matters. If you don't have meaning, then nothing matters."
Johnson isn't shy in arguing that tapping the inner self can lead to more deeply felt sexual relationships: "Gay spirituality can find the spiritual meaning of sex," Johnson says, "of a way of communing with someone rather than just getting your rocks off."
Rev. Dr. Neil Thomas, of the Metropolitan Community Church in Los Angeles, a Christian fellowship that specifically reaches out to the LGBT community, says, "We are body, mind and spirit, and we need all those things to be healthy. Too often we separate them, and that leads to unhealthy lives."
In fact, a new University of Missouri study found that people who reported experiencing higher levels of spirituality also reported higher levels of mental health.
Thomas suggests that gay men, especially those who are suffering, should squarely face themselves in the mirror. "We need to do a reality check of our self-esteem," he says. "Because if we can't have a right relationship with ourselves, we can't have it with others."
James Langteaux, author of Gay Conversations With God, says gay-rights leaders could be models for the gay population if they adopted the nonviolence methods of Gandhi's satyagraha, which offers building blocks for cultivating love and respect for yourself and others, including your enemies.
"It's very counterintuitive, but history has shown it works," says Langteaux, noting that Dr. Martin Luther King Jr. and the lesser-known gay-rights group Soulforce have used satyagraha. If tapped by the LGBT community, "The anger inside ourselves will evaporate," he suggests.
Courage Campaign founder Jacobs, who regularly fights gay-rights battles, isn't sure that adopting the Gandhi model would work in achieving political victories. "It's certainly something we should see more of in our movement," Jacobs says. "But in moving a political agenda, you have to be tough."
Sitting in the backyard of his Sherman Oaks home below a circling hawk, James Brandon recalls how his verbally abusive, alcoholic father struck his mother and sometimes smacked him with a belt. His parents divorced when he was young.
Says Brandon, "I blamed my dad for a lot of my issues and insecurities."
When Brandon was in middle school and still in the closet, kids bullied him because he came off as gay. His mom gave him Dale Carnegie's How to Win Friends and Influence People. "It taught me that people do their thing and I can't stop them," Brandon says of the classic self-help book.
When he was a senior, his hard-drinking father was diagnosed with pancreatic cancer. Brandon let go of the past and went to the hospital nearly every day. In an act far more personal than any he had experienced with his dad, he gave the dying man comforting massages. They bonded, and his father promised to live long enough to see Brandon graduate. His father watched a video of the high school ceremony. He passed away two days later.
"I was abused as a kid," Brandon says, "and that's an easy way to escape from myself and not take responsibility for myself."
But he rejected the role of victim, and now focuses on making healthy choices.
Brandon is hopeful because gay men as a cultural force "are heading in that direction," he says. "But more people need to live it — and speak out."
Reach the writer at pmcdonald@laweekly.com.
Photography by Anne Fishbein