Praying for Inclusion: Gay Men’s Experiences on Religious College Campuses

ABSTRACT

Research on sexual minorities’ religious experiences largely focuses on faith-based challenges/supports, family dynamics, and identity conflicts – yet, there is limited research studying how these systems intersect with religious college campus and counseling experiences. This paper explores how 13 gay students at Christian and Jewish colleges narrated their campus challenges. Participants reported mental health concerns, limited campus counseling and peer support resources, and threats to personal and professional development. Alternatively, participants also reported mediating conflicts with positive counseling experiences, prayer and religious development, alternative support groups, college transfers and urban relocation post-graduation. The article concludes with a discussion of clinical applications and administrative implications.

KEYWORDS:

• Gay men
• Christian
• Jewish
• religion
• college
• counseling

Although an increasing number of youth are affirming their sexual orientation during early adolescence, this process can be elongated for sexual minority youth from conservative religious backgrounds as they navigate religious, familial and communal expectations of heteronormativity (Etengoff, 2013). Sexual minority students may apply for admission at conservative religious universities before they are aware of, or comfortable with, their sexual orientation, often leading to conflicts between their developmental needs and universities’ homoprohibitive policies (e.g., Wolff & Himes, 2010). Indeed, an estimated 200 American college campuses continue to bar admission to openly LGBT students, creating an implicit “don’t ask, don’t tell” policy for students coming to terms with their sexual and gender identity (Kirkley & Getz, 2007; Wolff & Himes, 2010). Administrators have asked LGBT students at conservative religious campuses to choose between suspension/expulsion or conversion therapy as well as mobility and/or housing restrictions (Bailey & Strunk, 2018; Wolff & Himes, 2010). Furthermore, such policies may lead to social isolation/marginalization, violence and bullying, risky sexual behavior, depression, anxiety and suicide (Getz & Kirkley, 2006; Hughes, 2015; Love, 1997; Wright & Perry, 2006). Moreover, homophobic campus climates negatively impact both sexual minority and heterosexual individuals due to bystander stress and courtesy stigma, highlighting the overwhelming benefits of creating more inclusive campus climates (Hitlan, Schneider, & Walsh, 2006; Love, 1998; Silverschanz, Cortina, Konik, & Magley, 2008). The present inquiry therefore focuses on exploring campus tensions surrounding conservative religious values and homosexuality, the ways in which gay men attempt to mediate these conflicts as well as culturally sensitive avenues for campus counseling.

LGB campus climate is assessed based on sexual minorities’ perceptions and experiences of the college community, heterosexual students’ views about sexual minority persons on campus, and campus policies/programs designed to improve sexual minority students’ experiences (Polihronakis, Etengoff, & Rodriguez, 2016). With many religious campuses issuing statements of faith and codes of conduct that prohibit same-sex sexual activity and/or limit the scope of campus LGB support resources, conservative religious campus climates are often hostile and unwelcoming toward sexual minority students (Eckholm, 2011; Getz & Kirkley, 2006; Hughes, 2015). For example, Hughes (2015) discusses a Jesuit college campus that required their LGBT graduate student club to have a priest present during their meetings in addition to demanding that the group sign a constitution affirming their compliance with the Catholic Church’s teachings on homosexuality. Administrators have also been explicitly prohibited LGBT students at conservative religious campuses from forming LGBT student clubs or advertising its existence (Killelea McEntarfer, 2011). Although many conservative religious communities and college students have recently become more tolerant of homosexuality (e.g., Woodford, Levy, & Walls, 2013), homoprohibitive campus climates continue to limit students’ exposure to and expression of more accepting attitudes regarding sexual minorities (Bailey & Strunk, 2018). With many conservatively religious college campuses continuing to view the intersection of religion and sexuality as an oximoron, it remains essential to explore how campus counseling and psychotherapy can support sexual minority youth on religious college campuses as well as those that choose to transfer to alternative college settings.

In many cases, campus policies prohibiting same-sex relationships dissuade sexual minority students from reaching out to faculty or campus counselors for assistance or protection due to the fear of expulsion (Killelea McEntarfer, 2011; Maher, 2007). For example, Yarhouse, Stratton, Dean, and Brooke (2009) found that 93% of their sexual minority student sample across three Christian college campuses (N = 104) had not disclosed to a teacher or pastor and 76% had not disclosed to a mental health professional – in fact, only 14% of their participants felt comfortable identifying and coming-out as gay. Such statistics highlight the profound gap between sexual minority students’ mental health needs and their perceptions of campus counseling access. Moreover, concerns about the safety and confidentiality of campus counseling may continue to persist and impact the therapeutic alliance even after sexual minority students transfer to non-religious campuses. It is therefore essential for campus counselors from both religious and secular campuses to develop a comprehensive understanding of LGBT tensions on religious college campuses.

Sexual minority invisibility often maintains a hostile campus climate as without positive intergroup contact, it is difficult for prejudices to be challenged and changed (Finlay & Walther, 2003; Maher, Sever, & Pichler, 2008; Wolff, Himes, Kwon, & Bollinger, 2012). In this vein, the majority of Yarhouse et al.’s (2009) sample also reported that negative campus attitudes toward homosexuality (84%) were largely undisputed by peers (87%). Moreover, research suggests that conservative religious individuals report higher levels of homophobia than religiously unaffiliated or religiously liberal individuals (e.g., Finlay & Walther, 2003; Marsiglio, 1993). Such hostilities are obviously harmful from a mental health standpoint (Pascarella & Terenzini, 2005), and researchers have now found significant associations between homophobic slurs and negative physical health outcomes for students such as increased headaches and loss of appetite (Woodford, Howell, Kulick, & Silverschanz, 2013). Hostile campus climates can also negatively impact students’ sexual identity development (Rankin, Weber, Blumenfeld, & Frazer, 2010), and the associated stress may impede sexual minorities’ equal access to education (Hughes, 2015; Love & Tosolt, 2013; Rankin, Weber, Blumenfeld, & Frazer, 2010). For the purposes of this paper, sexual identity is defined as “the private and public acts of identifying and communicating one’s sexual preferences” (Yarhouse, 2008, p. 196).

Despite the likelihood of negative mental health outcomes for sexual minority youth on conservative religious college campuses, there is a dearth of psychological research regarding their experiences and the ways in which campus counselors and psychotherapists can address their needs (Wolff & Himes, 2010). In addition, the majority of studies exclusively focus on Christian campuses (e.g., Bailey & Strunk, 2018; Killelea McEntarfer, 2011; Love, 1997, 1998; Miceli, 2009) – and there has been no parallel exploration of sexual minority experiences on Orthodox Jewish campuses despite both faith groups sharing similar biblical texts regarding homosexuality (e.g., Leviticus 18:22). It is possible that this research gap is due to there being fewer major Orthodox Jewish universities in America as compared to Christian universities. However, as many Jewish-American college students earn American college credits for religious studies in Israel (and then return to their American college campus counselors) it is important to broaden our research scope to include international religious academic institutions as well (e.g., Jaskoll, 2015). In addition, research on sexual minority students may prize Christian campuses because of their overt and public heteronormative admissions policies whereas there seems to be a lack of formal/public campus policies regarding heteronormative admissions at Orthodox Jewish campuses (Buchanan, 2006; Cohen, 1995). Although, in recent years, a number of sexual minority students at Orthodox Jewish campuses have voiced negative experiences via public forums (e.g., Yeshiva University’s “Being Gay in the Modern Orthodox World” 2009 forum) as well as student campus publications (e.g., Atwood, 2015; Sominski, 2014) – and it is evident that their conflicts and struggles merit further attention. The present study therefore aims to address these gaps by including gay students’ conflict and mediation experiences at both Christian and Jewish campuses.

Although there has recently been a flurry of new legislation to prevent campus discrimination in the U.S., many of these policies primarily focus on preventing overt aggression rather than promoting minority student integration (e.g., Tyler Clementi Higher Education Anti-Harassment Act of 2014) – opening the door “to subtle, although damaging, hostilities (termed microagressions) and social exclusion” (Polihronakis, Etengoff, & Rodriguez , 2016). Some scholars suggest that this can create an even more dangerous climate for sexual minority students as “obstacles are easier to avoid when you can see them. If they ‘go underground’ they become more dangerous” (Love, 1997, pp. 389–390). The urgency of this conversation has only increased with the 2017 neo-Nazi rally at the University of Virginia that claimed the lives of one protestor and two law enforcement officers (Jaschik, 2017) – this violent display of intolerance on a public university’s campus highlights the pressing need for further research on minority students’ campus and counseling experiences.

Research context

Sexual minorities & religion

Given the challenges sexual minority students face at religious college campuses, it is important to explore why sexual minority students choose to attend or enroll in conservative religious universities. While there are a variety of personal factors that can come into play in college application decisions (e.g., sexual identity development, familial expectations), some suggest that religious, sexual minority students may be attracted to religious universities’ social justice missions, the integration of faith into their academic life, the familiarity of a religious educational context and an interest in participating in a community that aims to deepen their faith commitments (Hughes, 2015). Research acknowledging these factors largely stems from the perspective that sexual minorities can be “spiritual and religious beings in their own right” (Rodriguez, 2009, pp. 7–8).

Moreover, many inquiries into religious and sexual identity conflicts now note the possibility for identity integration as well – speaking to the framework that “identity” should be approached as a complex, multi-faceted construct of the self that is continuously negotiated and developed (e.g., Dahl & Galliher, 2009; Dunn et al., 2015; Etengoff, 2013; Rodriguez, Etengoff, & Vaughn, 2019; Rodriguez & Ouellette, 2000). Researchers have reported a variety of ways in which sexual and religious identities can be negotiated including joining gay-positive religious communities (Rodriguez & Ouellette, 2000), developing a personal spiritual experience in the place of religious community experience (Dahl & Galliher, 2009) and compartmentalizing sexual and religious selves (Baumeister, Shapiro, & Tice, 1985; Coyle & Rafalin, 2000; Dahl & Galliher, 2009; Schnoor, 2003). That being said, sexual minority individuals are almost twice as likely to be religiously unaffiliated (41%) as compared to Americans at large (23%) – with many sexual minority individuals viewing “major faith groups” as unsupportive to sexual minority needs (Pew, 2014, 2013a, 2013b). Given the high rates of homophobia within conservative religious groups (Finlay & Walther, 2003; Marsiglio, 1993) as well as the high probability of being rejected by religious family members (Etengoff & Daiute, 2014), such statistics remain sobering although unsurprising. Moreover, while many sexual minorities from religious backgrounds leave the faith communities of their youth (Dahl & Galliher, 2009; Dunn et al., 2015; Singer & Deschamps, 1994) – many do so amidst great anguish and it is imperative that their struggles be addressed by campus counselors and psychotherapists (Etengoff & Daiute, 2015b; Yarhouse et al., 2009).

Gay men’s experiences of homophobia

The present study specifically focuses on the narratives of gay men as prior research indicates that gay men encounter higher levels of campus hostility and violence than lesbian women (Finlay & Walther, 2003; Yarhouse et al., 2009) – possibly due to heterosexual men expressing more negative attitudes than heterosexual women toward homosexuality (e.g., Lottes & Kuriloff, 1992; Maher, 2004; Woodford, Silverschanz, Swank, Scherrer, & Raiz, 2012). Some suggest that this gender differential is due to men viewing homosexuality as a threat to their own masculinity (Bailey & Strunk, 2018; Maher et al., 2008; Plummer, 1999) whereas “females on the contrary, have a vested interest in dismantling sexism and authoritarianism” (Maher, 2004, p. 282). Emerging research also suggests that religious educational institutions are more likely to explicitly discuss the prohibitions against male homosexuality than female lesbianism (Maher, 2004). While such forms of cultural silencing are powerful forms of lesbian repression that merit further study – silence is in many ways distinct from the explicit hostilities embedded within campus discourse regarding gay men. However, it is important to acknowledge that research is divided on the issue – with some documenting explicit bullying for lesbian students at religious high schools as well (Love & Tosolt, 2013).

Gendered variations in homophobia may also be related to there being more explicit biblical prohibitions regarding male homosexuality (e.g., Leviticus 18:22 and 20:13) as compared to a lack of clear biblical discourse on lesbianism (see Etengoff, 2013 for full theological review). While Judeo-Christian heritage is fraught with subsequent prohibitions regarding female-female sexual relationships, punishments for lesbians were traditionally less severe than Leviticus’ call for men who have sex with men to be put to death (see Etengoff, 2013 for a complete theological review). This gendered landscape may also speak to why gay men and women often report different pathways for sexual orientation disclosure and religious identity conflict (Rodriguez, 2009; Rodriguez & Ouellette, 2000). Lastly, the present study does not focus on bisexual experiences as prior research suggests that bisexual individuals may be more apt to “pass” within hostile contexts and may therefore be less likely to experience overt forms of exclusion (Lingel, 2009). In summary, the overall goal of the present inquiry, to explore campus tensions between conservative religious values and sexual orientation, appears to be best met by focusing on the sexual minority group experiencing the highest levels of hostility and the most explicit forms of biblical prohibition (Dunn et al., 2015).

Present study

Drawing on sociocultural theory (e.g. Vygotsky, 1978), the present study approaches religious academic institutions as a complex activity system comprised of the interactions between administrators, college counselors/psychotherapists, students and the larger religious community. Building on this developmental framework, participants’ interview narratives are viewed as agentive tools with which they can mediate conflict and promote social change. The present study joins a growing body of research applying positive psychological models to sexual minority development – by acknowledging the challenges gay men on religious campuses face while highlighting their conflict mediation strategies (Etengoff, 2013; Higa et al., 2014; Rodriguez & Vaughan, 2013; Toomey & Russell, 2013). Given this context, the present paper aims to address the following questions: 1) What are the salient conflicts and challenges that gay men on conservative religious campuses encounter? 2) How do participants mediate the tensions between conservative religious values on campus and their sexual orientation? 3) How can campus counselors support sexual minority students’ mental health? In an effort to capture the novel and exploratory nature of the study, research questions were utilized rather than concrete hypotheses (Toomey & Russell, 2013).

Method

The current study is part of a larger project focusing on how gay men and their religious families navigate coming-out challenges within religiously conservative community contexts utilizing religious and secular tools (Etengoff, 2013; Etengoff & Daiute, 2014, 2015a, 2015b; Etengoff & Rodriguez, 2017). This study expands upon extant work by focusing on how gay men navigate tensions and conflicts within conservative, religious college contexts. Of the original study’s 23 gay participants, only 13 reported attending a religious college.

Participants

Participants from Orthodox Jewish and religiously conservative Christian communities (N = 13) were selected due to their shared religious texts focusing on homosexuality (e.g., Leviticus 18:22), often leading to similar contemporary homoexclusionary policies. All Jewish participants (n = 5) reported that they resided in the North Eastern region of the United States whereas Christian participants (n = 8) lived across the United States (North Eastern = 2, Mid-West = 2, Western = 4). However, this difference is acceptable as it is reflective of regional concentrations of Orthodox Jews on the national level (Pew, 2013b). Christian and Jewish participants were interviewed within a similar timeframe since their first sexual identity disclosure, with Jewish participants interviewed on average 4.4 years since disclosure (Sd = 4) and Christian participants interviewed on average 3.5 years since first coming-out (Sd = 3). In addition, although unrequired, all participants self-identified as White. While all 13 participants identified with religious life at the time of their college application – only three participants (1 Jewish, 2 Christian) identified as religiously observant at the time of their interview. Four participants identified as agnostic (1 Jewish, 3 Christian), one as atheist (Christian), and five as non-practicing believers (3 Jewish, 2 Christian).

Eight participants attended conservative Christian college campuses of the following faith groups: Mormon (n = 5), Seventh Day Adventist (n = 1), Catholic/Jesuit (n = 2). Participants are described as having religiously conservative Christian backgrounds due to their references to the role that the Christian Right, transliteral scriptural interpretation and the role ex-gay ministries played in their childhood religious socialization process (see Etengoff, & Rodriguez, 2017 for full review). Christian participants’ campuses issued a wide range of formal policies regarding homosexuality ranging from prohibiting all forms of advocacy for LGBT acceptance (Mormon, Seventh Day Adventist) and forbidding same-sex intimacy beyond the restrictions required for heterosexual students (Mormon), to issuing equivalent/nondiscriminatory laws of chastity for both heterosexual and homosexual students (Seventh Day Adventist, Catholic). On average, Christian participants were 25 years old at the time of participation (Sd = 3) and two of the eight participants from Christian backgrounds were enrolled at Christian college campuses at the time of participation. Two Christian participants disclosed their sexual orientation to a small group of campus friends and an additional two participants disclosed to a religious, campus representative.

Five Jewish participants (M Current Age = 26, Sd Current Age = 5) reported that they attended Orthodox Jewish college campuses. Jewish participants were interviewed on average, seven years after they had attended college (Sd Years Post-College = 5.8). Due to the limited number of Orthodox Jewish college campuses in America and the resultant recruitment difficulties – both participants who attended American study abroad programs at Israeli, Orthodox-Jewish campuses (n = 4) and those that attended Orthodox Jewish campuses in America (n = 1) were sampled. Unlike the co-ed Christian campuses, Jewish campuses were all male institutions (as is typical for Orthodox Jewish educational institutions). In addition, no formal or public rules regarding homosexual behavior were published by the Jewish campuses in contrast to the explicit rules of conduct issued by the sampled Christian colleges. However, all Jewish participants reported that their campuses prohibited same-sex activity on religious grounds. In addition, none of the sampled Jewish campuses hosted an LGBT student club or provided any campus based resources for sexual minority students. Two Jewish participants disclosed their sexual orientation (1 publically, 1 selectively) during their college years and were allowed to stay on their Orthodox Jewish campuses (1 American campus, 1 Israeli-American campus).

Recruitment

Once study approval was obtained from the university’s Institutional Review Board, participants were recruited by participant referral, direct contact or organizational membership and blogs, list serves, and clinicians’ referrals. About 30 recruitment e-mails were sent to specific individuals and an additional 25 to religion/sexuality organizations (e.g., Dignity, SoulForce, Jewish Queer Youth, Nehirim). While this sampling technique is largely focused on participants already involved in support systems, it was a deliberate aspect of the research design as it best samples participants that are actively involved in negotiating challenges.

Procedure

Drawing from past research exploring sexual minority youth experiences, qualitative interviews were conducted as they offer an opportunity for participants to agentively tell their own story (Higa et al., 2014). Moreover, qualitative interviews provide an avenue for researchers to explore largely unknown dynamics – an important aspect of the present study’s research design given the limited literature on the subject (Higa et al., 2014).

Interviews (M = 82 min., Sd = 17 min.) were conducted both in-person (3 Jewish, 1 Christian) and over the phone (2 Jewish, 7 Christian) in order to accommodate participants’ schedules. Participants were prompted to answer 21 open-ended questions addressing their demographic information, socio-religious activities and practices, family system dynamics, and related experiential history (e.g., “How would you describe your feelings and thoughts about religion?; How old were you at the time of your sexual orientation disclosure?; How would you describe that event and time period in your life?”). Inquiries regarding participants’ religious college experiences began with a general description of their educational background and continued with a discussion of their coming-out challenges/supports within religious and academic contexts. In order to provide a flexible framework for participants’ narrative construction processes (Wengraff, 2001), follow-up questions were included to clarify campus policies, supports and difficulties. This semi-structured interview format was a deliberate aspect of the research design as such designs facilitate culturally sensitive adaptations, engaging the diversity and heterogeneity between and within religious groups (Wengraff, 2001). Interviews were audio recorded, transcribed by research associates and reviewed by the principal investigator prior to coding.

Method of analysis

Given the applicability of descriptive and pattern coding techniques to this population (e.g., Lee & Lee, 2006), the principal investigator’s narrative analysis initially focused on identifying broad concept narratives regarding campus disclosure/visibility, campus conflicts and mediational solutions. More specific conflict and mediation codes were then conceptualized by the principal investigator after line by line examination of the broad concept narratives as per Daiute’s (2014) sociocultural narrative analysis work. A sociocultural method of narrative analysis was selected as “it provides a flexible thematic structure that is simultaneously guided by both the original narrative and the individual within the larger context” (Etengoff & Daiute, 2015a, p. 11). In light of participants’ cultural and denominational diversity, a narrative analysis method focused on the individual within their community is particularly appropriate (Etengoff & Daiute, 2015a). In addition, analysis procedures followed a holistic-content coding approach (Lieblich, Tuval-Mashiach, & Zilber, 1998) – “with coding being completed one interview at a time, through multiple readings of each interview and considering the context of the full interview” (Spencer, Tugenberg, Ocean, Schwartz, & Rhodes, 2016, p. 410). In order to ensure the applicability and validity of the coding categories, a second coder (graduate student) independently analyzed a stratified subsample of 23% (n = 3). The principal investigator (PI) met with the second coder twice to discuss and negotiate data themes before each transcript was coded by both (Neely, 2015).

After interview narratives were qualitatively coded, frequency analyses regarding the number of participants discussing each theme were calculated in order to provide both the depth and breadth of mixed-methods research (Etengoff & Daiute, 2014, 2015a, 2015b). Frequency analysis focused on participant frequencies rather than narrative count as prior qualitative research with LGBT youth suggests that “the presence of an idea across more than one person and group” may be a more valid indicator of the theme’s relative level of narrative significance as compared to the practice of “equating the number of quotes with importance” (Higa et al., 2014, p. 669). Narrative excerpts are featured in the Results section if they concisely and comprehensively illustrate a conflict or mediation strategy highlighted in the frequency analysis (Etengoff & Daiute, 2014).

Conflict & mediation codes

Campus conflicts were identified based upon participants’ responses to specific questions focusing on coming-out tensions (e.g., Were there any activities or people that made the disclosure process more difficult for you?) as well as questions on religious experience (e.g., Do you believe that your relationship with religion has changed over time? If so, how? Why?). In addition, the complete interview was read for campus conflicts and difficulties that participants described as a “challenge”, “hard”, “difficult”, “upsetting”, “a fight/battle/argument”, and “terrible” etc. (Etengoff & Daiute, 2014). Utilizing this coding methodology, four primary campus conflict categories emerged: (a) limited sexual minority peer support systems on campus, (b) threats to personal and professional development, (c) mental health challenges (anxiety, depression, suicide), and (d) limited clinical and pastoral counseling resources. This coding system was inductively derived from the narratives and informed by prior work applying sociocultural narrative analysis to this population (Etengoff & Daiute, 2014).

Applying the sociocultural premise that “people are agentive co-creators not only of their own lives and development, but also of the very world which they collaboratively create (Stetsenko, 2015, p. 102)”, this inquiry additionally explores how participants mediated and transformed campus conflicts. This stage of narrative analysis began by identifying participants’ references to people or activities that made their sexual orientation disclosure process easier. Interview narratives were then analyzed to identify participants’ efforts to navigate, negotiate and protest hostile campus climates. Applying this framework, four primary conflict mediation strategies emerged: (a) positive counseling experiences, (b) prayer and religious development, (c) alternative support groups, and (d) college transfers and urban relocation post-graduation.

Results

Campus conflicts & challenges

Limited sexual minority peer support systems on campus

Seven of the 13 participants (3 Jewish, 4 Christian) expressed frustration with the lack of opportunity to develop and engage gay peer support systems on campus. Participants spoke of the need for peer support in a variety of ways including an interest in having a safe space to disclose their sexual orientation, to socialize and develop romantic relationships, and to share their sexual and religious identity struggles. However, due to homoprohibitive campus policies many participants were unable to openly or in some cases, even covertly, attain these forms of peer support on campus. For example, a Jewish participant spoke of his disappointment that while both he and his “chavruta” (daily religious studies partner within a didactic learning structure) were coming to terms with their gay identity during their time at an American-Israeli study abroad program for religious studies, they did not feel safe enough to disclose to each other despite having been “very close” (e.g., “It’s crazy, cuz neither of us knew [that the other was gay] with [being with] each other every morning for a year”). The sentiment that Orthodox Jewish college environments were not a “safe space” for gay students was shared by all Jewish participants (e.g., “those [all male environments] are the types of environments that did not lend themselves to a necessarily easy, or, kind of comfortable reckoning with sexuality”). In some cases, the aura of secrecy surrounding homosexuality on Orthodox Jewish campuses led to potentially risky sexual behaviors off campus. For example, a Jewish participant shared that during his time studying abroad in Israel he “knew through the buzzings that there was a park where gay people cruised – Gan Hatzmaute, Independence Park, in Jerusalem.” Although he went to the park with the intention to explore his sexuality, he ended up running away in fear. In his words, “I was like in Yeshiva [institution for religious studies] then and I kind just like freaked out … I just thought I’m going with some stranger in a park, he could be taking me … and killing me. So, I uhh freaked out.” In the case of this particular participant, the lack of opportunity to explore his sexuality within a safe environment contributed to a severe, disabling depression which was only alleviated with his sexual orientation disclosure (post-college).

Similarly, four Christian participants (1 Mormon, 1 Seventh Day Adventist, 2 Catholic) reported campus restrictions on sexual orientation disclosure and support. For example, a Mormon participant spoke of the necessity to establish “an unofficial, an un, unendorsed gay support group on campus” which was restricted to secret meetings and word of mouth recruitment. However, despite the lack of campus support, the participant acknowledged that it may be better to be “unofficial … because I feel like if they [administration] endorsed us, they’d censor us and we wouldn’t be able to say, “Here’s all your options,” we’d be able to say “Don’t date, don’t date … ” Moreover, the Mormon participant framed the underground nature of the group as “powerful” as the format enabled the group to be student run.

Alternatively, two Catholic participants voiced their distress that there was no form of gay peer support on campus – they spoke of a lack of “gay life” and feeling distant from the student body (e.g., “I wasn’t really close with anybody at college”). Similarly, a Seventh Day Adventist participant spoke of the challenges of living on campus that is “so regressive that they haven’t even addressed that [homosexuality] specifically … because it just would never be regarded as anything even remotely possible.” While the lack of campus support for sexual identity development was challenging, a number of Christian participants valued the opportunity to attempt to live a heterosexual lifestyle – with one Mormon participant even purchasing a diamond engagement ring for his girlfriend as “proof of his choice” to God. While these experiences did not lead to a permanent heterosexual relationships for any of the participants – all reported that they viewed these steps as essential milestones on their path toward accepting their gay identity.

Threats to personal and professional development

Seven participants spoke of diverse forms of campus hostility that threatened their personal and professional development (2 Jewish, 1 Catholic, 4 Mormon). Participants’ experiences varied in terms of the severity of the threat as well as the extent of reported damage to their development. For example, a participant at a Christian university spoke of how a general campus culture of “don’t be gay” and “don’t act gay” contributed to his own discomfort with the gay community and his own masculine and sexual identity (e.g., “I just felt uncomfortable even, just, going into a gay bar”). Alternatively, an openly gay participant shared that his student government campaign and eventual position at an American, Orthodox Jewish college was targeted with overt hostility from religious faculty members and students (“my campaign posters were defaced … and there was a petition started [by campus rabbis] to have me removed from office once I was elected”). Although the participant noted that the “administration quickly, like quickly, put everything down and didn’t let anything get too out of control”, he also shared his pain and frustration that the “vandalism” persisted and was never addressed. Moreover, a Mormon participant shared that he was expelled from his university after meeting their requirements to “confess everything” in order to serve on a religious mission (a coming of age Mormon tradition focused on global outreach work). In the participant’s words; “My religious leader, my Bishop, had asked me to leave … he said, “X, you’re not gay, but we think it would be best if you dealt with this elsewhere.” The participant shared that this experience of betrayal and expulsion contributed to his intense depression and extended leave from higher education.

Mental health challenges: anxiety, depression & suicide

In total, 7/13 participants (3 Jewish, 4 Christian) discussed the relation between hostile campus climates and mental health challenges such as anxiety, depression and suicide. Participants expressed an awareness of the relationship between religious and sexual identity tensions, campus climates and their mental health with statements such as “I started therapy in Israel halfway through the [academic] year for depression and anxiety issues … which are probably connected to my homosexuality and how I feel towards Judaism.” Participants’ methods of addressing these challenges varied, with some engaging in therapy or medication and others attempting to address these challenges on their own. For example, an undisclosed, participant on a Seventh Day Adventist campus reported that he addresses his regular feelings of “feeling down … kind of out of it” by calling in sick, skipping class and self-medicating with alcohol (“I dug into a bunch of alcohol … and uhm,[became] relatively drunk”). In addition, a Mormon participant reported that he attempted suicide in order to escape his depression after being rejected from his religious community (“It [suicide attempt] was entirely in dealing with how I, how, to marry my sexuality and my spirituality … if that had not been an issue, then, I, don’t think I would’ve ended up in the hospital”).

Limited clinical & pastoral campus counseling

Despite many campus challenges, ranging from the fear of sexual identity disclosure to overt hostilities and mental health concerns, 9/13 participants (4 Jewish, 5 Christian) reported that the clinical and pastoral counseling services on campus were severely limited. Seven participants reported their frustration that they were only offered conversion therapy options (“we [Mormon participant and therapist] were trying to work towards me trying to become straight, but-deep down, I, I didn’t really want that”). Participants explained that conversion therapy was often the only form of therapy available on campus because their counselors were misguided or uninformed (e.g., “X [Seventh Day Adventist]University offers, um, free counseling … and so I was working with a Christian counselor, and so struggling with homosexuality means I need to fix it”). Participants expressed mixed-feelings regarding these experiences as while the forced pursuit of “reparative therapy” was harmful, they believed that their pastoral counselors and conversion therapists were “coming from the best possible [place], trying to do what was best” despite a lack of information. For example, a Jewish participant shared that he was impressed that a pastoral counselor fielded a question on homosexuality during an open “Ask the Rabbi” session by stating “I don’t wanna answer the question because I don’t know that much on the issue.” However, the rabbi simultaneously recommended the conversion therapy organization JONAH (Jews Offering New Alternatives for Healing Support Group) – as “they didn’t know it was aimed towards helping people get back on to the straight path, they just knew that it dealt with homosexuality.” JONAH has since been dissolved due to a New Jersey court ruling that the organization was both fraudulent and harmful (Levine, 2015). In addition, a number of participants did not seek the mental health support that they needed as they feared that client-therapist confidentiality would be violated by on-campus services or affiliated conversion therapy programs.

Conflict mediation strategies

Positive campus counseling experiences

While the majority of participants reported limited or challenging campus counseling options, five Christian participants (3 Mormon, 1 Seventh Day Adventist, 1 Catholic) alternatively shared positive campus counseling experiences. Positive campus counseling experiences were facilitated by off-campus, subcontracted therapy groups, therapeutic support groups that were APA accredited and therefore ensured confidentiality, and in one case – an understanding Mormon Bishop (“he willingly bent over backwards to kind of keep me at school”). Although the Mormon university required that the Bishop interview the student between semesters to assess his “worthiness to stay in the church”, the Bishop deliberately only presented interview questions that were unrelated to homosexuality. The participant valued his Bishop’s “support”, “empathy” and efforts to affirm that he wasn’t “alone on this earth … God loves all his children.” The participant shared that he was “grateful” for his sessions with his Bishop and viewed them as “a great comfort.” The participant hypothesized that he may have had a supportive experience with his Bishop as he had not yet engaged in same-sex activities – highlighting the importance of non-pastoral clinical counseling within these settings.

Alternative support groups: online, off-campus and underground

Seven participants (1 Jewish, 6 Christian) reported that they sought alternative support groups during their college years either online (e.g., religious forums and blogs), off-campus or through campus underground systems. Three participants (1 Jewish, 2 Christian) reported that online support systems were particularly helpful as their identities remained anonymous and it was “a safe way to address a problem of what should never be talked about [homosexuality].” Alternatively, three Christian participants reported that they traveled long distances to be able to connect with peer support groups at other college campuses or institutions. However, that was met with mixed success – for example, one Mormon participant reported that he had a meaningful off-campus experience that brought him to the realization that he was “not alone” whereas a Catholic participant alternatively found it to be challenging to forge relationships across campuses. In addition, two Mormon participants spoke of an underground “gay support group on campus, called USGA, or Understanding Same-Gender Attraction.” Although some members of the group voiced concerns that the term same-sex attraction was “degrading … [as] it comes from a place of fear”, both participants in the present study spoke of the group as “life changing” as it provides “a safe place” to be open about their sexual and Mormon identities and “meet people, have friends.” While participants in the present study pursued a diverse range of alternative support systems, they all agreed that they needed a support network because “one of the worst things, is feeling like you are alone.”

Prayer & religious development

Five participants (4 Christian, 1 Jewish) reported that they attempted to address their challenges on campus and tensions between religious and sexual identities through prayer and religious development. Four participants shared that they tried to “pray away the gay”, although all acknowledged that their prayers did not result in a heterosexual transformation (e.g., “I [Seventh Day Adventist participant] used to cry myself to sleep, praying to God that he would fix me – you know, that clearly never did it”). While some participants spoke of their prayers with frustration (e.g., “He [God] said no [to Mormon participant’s prayer to become heterosexual] and I took that very harshly because here I was ready to kind of put everything on the line to live the plan … for me I took it as a little bit of a rejection. Like I wasn’t good enough for that”), others maintained that even their unanswered prayers kept them close to God (e.g., “ … my [Jewish participant] strong relationship with God is because I have always spoken to God throughout this whole entire struggle. You know, like always asking Him like what did he expect me to do?”). Moreover, one Mormon participant shared that through prayer he now feels at “peace with the idea of being with a guy” as he feels “God’s hand blessing them.” The participant voiced that this feeling of God’s acceptance was “relieving” as he previously faced a tremendous amount of “inner conflict.” Participants also shared that these “inner conflicts” were often related to social and familial pressure (e.g., “all my family had always gotten married at X [Mormon] University and I felt a lot of pressure to do so”) – highlighting the interactive relation between culture, history and individual development.

Alternatively, two participants (1 Jewish, 1 Christian) reported that they changed their religious views during college in order to relieve the tensions between their faith and sexual orientation. For example, a Seventh Day Adventist participant described his “flip of faith” from a believing Christian to an agnostic as occurring during his college years alongside his disillusionment with “the way that Christians tend to act … a lot of Seventh-Day Adventists are very, very judgmental, and, um, not accepting of anything that they don’t believe themselves.” Alternatively, a Jewish participant shared that he transitioned from a practice-based religious experience to one that is more spiritually focused (e.g., “I stopped praying … I think I’ve just become reattached to spirituality”).

Campus expulsions, transfers and relocation after graduation

Four Christian participants (1 Catholic, 3 Mormon) reported that in the wake of unwelcoming campus climates they were either expelled, voluntarily transferred to a non-religious college or relocated to more cosmopolitan cities after graduation (e.g., New York). In some cases, participants transferred colleges after a couple of years and others transferred after their first freshman semester. For example, a Mormon participant shared that after his first semester on a Mormon campus he transferred to a state university in a large urban center. He spoke of transferring in order to find an LGBT Mormon community and a therapist with LGBT Mormon experience (e.g., “In X there were more therapists within the Mormon community in regards to homosexuality … That’s where I met my first openly gay Mormon.”). Given that the desire to find a culturally competent therapist can be the motivating factor in transferring colleges, it becomes imperative for college counselors at secular campuses to develop a comprehensive understanding of the challenges sexual minority students faced at their prior religious campuses.

While transferring colleges appears to be an accessible way to avoid hostile spaces on conservatively religious campuses – it is not always a possibility. For example, a participant shared that he selected his Seventh Day Adventist campus because generations of his family had attended, he identified as a religious Christian at the time of his application, and the university provided him with a vital scholarship. However, over the course of college he began questioning his faith while coming to terms with his sexual orientation – and his decision to attend a conservatively religious campus became “one of the worst decisions I’ve made in my entire life.” Unfortunately, despite his negative experiences, he was unable to transfer colleges due to credit transfer restrictions and the associated fees. In light of such challenges, it is necessary for college counselors at religious campuses to develop sensitive strategies for working with sexual minority students rather than only suggesting that they transfer to a more accepting campus.

Discussion

While the college years are characterized as a pivotal period of identity exploration and experimentation (e.g., Arnett, 2000), sexual minority youth at religiously conservative college campuses often find these developmental tasks to be limited and adversely affected (Love, 1997). Similar to prior research, the current inquiry found that gay men on conservative Jewish and Christian campuses are often confronted with undisputed hostility that may impede their mental health and academic success (e.g., Bailey & Strunk, 2018; Yarhouse, Stratton, Dean, & Brooke, 2009). Moreover, as with prior research, the present study suggests that gay men often encounter ignorance and homophobia from peers as well as clinical support staff and campus clergy (Eckholm, 2011; Getz & Kirkley, 2006; Hughes, 2015; Killelea McEntarfer, 2011). In addition, similar to Yarhouse’s (2009) research on Christian campuses, the present study found that the majority of participants felt uncomfortable disclosing their sexual orientation to campus counselors, clergy, faculty or peers – at both Jewish and Christian college campuses.

Participants in the present study discussed the negative effects of limited campus counseling options, constrained peer support systems on campus, threats to their personal and professional development as well as mental health challenges related to conflicts between their sexual orientation and religion. For many participants, the tensions between their sexual orientation and the conservative, religious values on campus negatively impacted their self-esteem and threatened their sense of self. Social psychologists suggest that such experiences can compel “the individual to focus their social, psychological and emotional resources on resolving the threat, rather than learning” (Jaspal, 2015, p. 128). Moreover, echoing prior research exploring negative minority student experiences on higher education campuses, a number of participants in the present study navigated campus tensions by skipping class, avoiding peer collaboration, or taking an extended leave of absence from higher education (Thomas, 2002).

The current study’s qualitative findings on the mental health challenges of sexual and religious identity tensions is supported by emerging quantitative research. For example, Rodriguez, Etengoff, and Vaughn (2019) report that in their analyses of 750 gay, lesbian and bisexual (GLB) adults, participants struggling with their gay and religious identities scored the highest on the negative outcomes of depression, anxiety, anger and loneliness and the lowest on the positive outcomes of self-esteem, social support, positive affect, benevolence of people and of the world. Alternatively, the secular GLB population demonstrated the most positive mental health outcomes as related to self-esteem, depression, anxiety, loneliness. In addition, GLB individuals reporting an integrated sexual and religious identity reported the highest scores on social support, positive affect and benevolence of the world.

The present paper extends extant work focusing on sexual minorities’ challenges on conservative Christian campuses by presenting a parallel analysis of how gay men on both Christian and Jewish campuses mediate conflicts and identity threats. Although participants experienced a range of challenges – they were not passive, victims during these encounters. Rather, all participants demonstrated their agency and resourcefulness by engaging in conflict mediation strategies. While some strategies were less adaptive (e.g., substance abuse, skipping class), all participants made efforts to engage in healthy mediational strategies as well (e.g., pursuing positive forms of counseling, seeking alternative forms of peer support, transferring colleges, and religious development). In this way, participants forged pathways to stress related growth as well as coming-out growth – “the self-perceived growth directly attributed to the unique experiences and identity development of sexual and gender minorities” (Rodriguez & Etengoff, 2019, p. 192 2017).

College student psychotherapy implications

The present study suggests that a number of conservative, religious campuses are still limiting gay students to conversion only counseling experiences, despite the growing number of court rulings classifying such interventions as fraudulent and harmful (e.g., Levine, 2015). It is therefore imperative that campus counselors introduce academic advisers, pastoral counselors and clergy to the American Psychological Association’s (APA) Resolution on Appropriate Affirmative Responses to Sexual Orientation Distress and Change Efforts (Anton, 2010) – the resolution aims to honor the religious and spiritual needs of individuals while ensuring that they receive psychological care that respects their personal sexual identity experience. In addition, APA (2009) recommends that clinicians addressing client distress regarding sexual orientation and religion abide by the following guidelines: The clinician should (a) communicate affirmation and understanding for all aspects of the client, (b) provide a comprehensive assessment of the client’s personality and cultural variables that may affect distress/coping, (c) provide strategies for positive, active coping, (d) enhance social support, (e) facilitate identity exploration and development and (f) have no prior assumption of the therapeutic conclusion or resolution as it relates to the client’s identity (Yarhouse & Beckstead, 2011). In the event that campus counselors are unable to convince administrators to follow APA guidelines for sexual minority students and/or are unable to maintain treatment and confidentiality standards themselves, it is their ethical obligation to refer students to off-campus resources.

In addition to developing inclusive counseling strategies, it is imperative that college counselors develop the skills to communicate their inclusive approach to students searching for services. Unfortunately, recent research suggests that religious college counseling websites continue to provide significantly fewer sexual minority support resources than non-religious institutions even though sexual minority students are more likely to encounter challenges on religious campuses (McKinley, Luo, Wright, & Kraus, 2015). Given this context, it may be helpful for campus counseling centers that are just beginning to address these concerns to connect with religious campuses that have been dialoguing for the past decade about how to negotiate tensions between religion and sexuality (e.g., The 2005 “Out There” Conference on GLBT issues on Catholic Campuses).

Narrative therapy

If college counselors are to work with sexual minority students, it is vital that campuses establish client directed therapy systems that adhere to the same standards of safety and excellence that campus health services provide for physical needs. Narrative therapy may be a particularly useful counseling strategy when working with marginalized student populations as it empowers clients to author their own stories while acknowledging shared human narratives as well as challenging circumstances (Combs & Freedman, 2012). Campus clinicians working with LGBTQ students can integrate narrative therapy into gay-affirmative therapy (GAT) paradigms as similarly to narrative therapy, GAT focuses on the clinician “empowering the [client’s] confrontation of stigma and discrimination” as well as “exploring the developing dimensions of identity” (Rosik & Popper, 2014, p. 223). In addition, narrative therapy can help inform sexual identity therapy’s (SIT) mindfulness approach to addressing potential conflicts between religious and sexual identities by exploring personal congruence and self-acceptance (Tan & Yarhouse, 2010). SIT steps include assessment (highlighting mindful, nonjudgmental listening), advanced informed consent (e.g., explaining causes of conflict and various therapeutic approaches), psychotherapy (emphasizing congruence) and synthesis (i.e., consistency between identity/behavior and beliefs/values) (see Tan & Yarhouse, 2010 for case studies). A narrative SIT approach additionally incorporates the identification of how dominant narratives contribute to sexual and religious identity conflicts as well as how counter-narratives might offer alternative identity constructions (see Yarhouse, 2008 for case studies). Integrated narrative therapeutic approaches can therefore be instrumental in supporting both sexual and religious identity development as well as making sense of traumatic experiences (e.g., homophobia, conversion therapy).

One of the core social justice principles of narrative therapy is the recognition that “we are all participants in each other’s stories … we each shape, and are shaped by, the beliefs, intentions and actions of others (Combs & Freedman, 2012, p. 1036).” Embedded within this client-centered framework is the perspective that one’s narrative identity is simultaneously relational and internalized, as well as continuously evolving (McAdams & McLean, 2013). In this sense, narrative therapy is located at the junction between the client’s personal stories and the larger cultural and familial master narratives, otherwise known as the “dominant story” (White & Epston, 1990). In other words, the psychotherapist’s role is to guide and support the client as they make sense of how the more dominant institutional, cultural and relational voices may have coauthored their personal narrative. Roth and Epston (1996) note that such externalizing conversations can assist clients in moving away from the dysfunctional internalization of problems, toward the agentive mediation of the larger, external problem. For example, clinicians can help clients contextualize the premise that sexual identities are a choice and by extension, a sin, as a master narrative – historically authored and sanctioned by both religious and political systems. As the client develops a critical consciousness and disentangles the threads of personal stories (e.g., internalized homonegativity) and master narratives (e.g., being gay is a choice/sin), the clinician can assist the client in incorporating and/or creating alternative, transformational narratives (e.g., I was born this way, my expression of sexual desire is an extension of self-expression, sexuality can be fluid) (Syed, Pasupathi, & McLean, 2020; Yarhouse, 2008). Moreover, once the client is able to identify the personal, master and alternative narratives, they can begin reclaiming their agency as they consciously create a more critically coherent narrative identity (Buchanan, Dzelme, Harris, & Hecker, 2001).

Buchanan et al. (2001) provide examples of narrative therapy prompts that can assist sexual minorities from religious backgrounds deconstruct the intersections between personal, cultural and institutional narratives. Buchanan, Dzelme, Harris & Hecker’s (2001, p.444–445) prompts focus on a variety of goals, including externalizing the problem (e.g., “What does the church (synagogue, mosque, etc.) whisper into your ear? What conclusions have you drawn about your relationships with the church because of these beliefs?”), opening spaces (e.g., “Has there ever been a time when your spirituality supported your sexuality?”), exploring narrative preference (e.g., “Are you comfortable with your religious (or spiritual) beliefs? Do you want them to guide your life?”), story development (e.g., “How is this way of looking at your sexual identity different from how you would have viewed yourself before?”), meaning-making (e.g., “What do you think your struggling with these issues tells me about you as a person?”), and extending the story into the future (e.g., “How do you see your relationship with your sexual identity and your religion developing in the next year?”). Narrative sexual identity therapists follow-up by asking clients to additionally explore how they have coped with oppressive dominant narratives in the past as well as how they would like to challenge dominant narratives in the future. Buchanan et al. (2001) emphasize that therapists should maintain an open mind when asking these questions – allowing clients’ responses and self-determination to remain the focus of the therapeutic process.

Moreover, clinicians can help sexual minority students contextualize campus hostilities and prior conversion therapy experiences by engaging in externalizing conversations that deconstruct how the larger sociocultural systems affect the narratives of administrators, faculty, fellow students, and even, campus counselors (Buchanan et al., 2001). The clinician’s role is to ask questions that help clients recognize gaps in problem stories, opening the door to alternative narratives, new interpretive frameworks and pathways to change. Questions that may be helpful to explore with clients across a series of sessions include, but are not limited to, “Why do you think your pastor counseled you this way? Why do you think conversion therapy has persisted as a popular option in religious circles? Did your friend/relative/roommate ever meet someone else who was openly gay? Do you think this impacted their reaction to your coming-out?” In order to reduce the likelihood that the client feels re-victimized by questions that appear to prompt them to answer for their abusers, it is imperative that this dialogical framework is transparently co-constructed as an opportunity for agentive, self-authorship. In addition, it may be helpful to ask clients questions that support them in imagining alternative stories, such as, “How do you think your first year of college would have looked at a secular school? What do you think your dating life will look like in 5 years, after college? How would you have liked your roommate/friend/relative to respond to your coming-out? If your roles were reversed, what do you think you would have done differently?” In sum, the narrative therapist’s goal is to support the client as they author their relational identity, develop meaningful interpretive frameworks for understanding their past, and imagine alternative possibilities for the future.

In addition, narrative therapeutic approaches with LGBTQ students from religious backgrounds can incorporate narrative activities. For example, Etengoff (2017) explored the benefits of asking 16 gay men and 9 family allies from religious backgrounds to author letters to religious leaders regarding current sexual minority policies. Petitioning tasks can be particularly helpful as letters can shift author-audience power relations, making room for alternative narratives to emerge and confront dominant master narratives. Etengoff (2017) found that while 93 problems were identified by the participants, 75 solutions were offered – supporting prior discussions that letter writing tasks can function as a form of living history and provide an agentive pathway for conflict mediation. In a similar vein, Bayne (2016) asked clients to entitle the past, present, and future chapters of their life. The client and therapist can then explore the progression of identity across chapters and contextualize the current struggle within the larger narrative. Some of the therapeutic questions that may help support subsequent sessions include; “How does the story play out from this chapter you are in to the next? What role might others play in each of these chapters of your life? What pieces of your future self do you already possess?” (Bayne, 2016, p. 68). Within this structure, the counselor focuses on introducing the possibility of change and identifying the goals that are attainable in the present. Bayne (2016) additionally recommends utilizing bibliotherapy to support clients that are already searching for information regarding the tensions between sexual and religious identity. Reading books and blogs describing similar experiences can help clients normalize their experiences and facilitate further explorations of religious ideology and dominant narratives. Counselors can unpack the bibliotherapy process with questions such as: “What was your initial reaction to the material? What feeling(s) came up for you as you were reading these materials?” (Bayne, 2016, p. 67). Bibliotherapy may be particularly helpful when students are enrolled in religiously conservative campuses that forbid LGBTQ social support and therapy groups. Alternatively, if group therapy is possible, it may be helpful for college counselors to explore Yarhouse’s model for sexual identity group therapy (Yarhouse & Beckstead, 2011). Lastly, McLean and Marini (2008) additionally recommend integrating empowering music into narrative therapy settings. For example, McLean and Marini (2008) asked a gay client to listen to Bob Marley’s song “Something inside so strong” and to then discuss how the lyrics could apply to his life and contribute to his authorship of a new narrative centered on self-value, self-respect, agency/self-authorship and the validity of same-sex relationships.

While there is a growing body of literature exploring therapeutic strategies for clients confronting sexual and religious identity conflicts, it is important to note that there are no well-designed outcome studies exploring the benefits or efficacy of narrative therapy, gay-affirmative/integrative, or sexual identity approaches for this population (Yarhouse, 2008). Alternatively, Bayne (2016), McLean and Marini (2008), Yarhouse (2008) as well as Tan and Yarhouse (2011) have presented a series of in-depth, case studies that offer clinical support for narrative therapeutic approaches as well as sexual identity therapy for gay men from religious backgrounds. In addition, there are a growing number of outcome studies on narrative therapy and depression. For example, Vromans and Schweitzer (2011) reported that 74% of 47 adults with major depressive disorder achieved reliable improvement after completing eight sessions of narrative therapy. Similarly, Korte, Bohlmeijer, Cappeliez, Smit, and Westerhof (2012) found that older adults completing life review and narrative therapy (n = 100) were more likely to report a clinically significant reduction in depressive symptoms as compared to a control group (n = 102). It is recommended that future researchers continue to explore the outcomes of narrative therapy for LGBTQ populations confronting identity development tensions as well as mental health challenges such as depression.

Administrative implications

Before campus counselors begin advocating for more inclusive campus policies – it is imperative that they identify how the current campus stakeholders and policies are impacting the campus climate for LGBTQ students. Stakeholders are the “people or institutions whose perspectives (interests, experience, and knowledge) play out in relevant activities and interact across the activity-meaning system” (Daiute, 2012, p. 50). College campus stakeholders affecting LGBTQ student experiences include student peers and clubs, college counselors, student health centers, campus safety, student affairs, housing, access and diversity administrators, Title IX coordinators, faculty and advisers, campus clergy, the Provost, alumni, parents and the Board of Trustees.

While campus climate surveys are not federally required in the United States at this time, they may be required at the state level. In addition, college counselors can obtain comparative statistics regarding the LGBTQ campus climate across 4-year colleges and universities in the United States by referencing the Campus Pride Index at www.campusprideindex.org. The Campus Pride Index is a free online database of LGBTQ-Friendly campuses (on a 1–5 Scale) and is supported by the Campus Pride Q Research Institute for Higher Education. The inclusion factors contributing to campus rankings are comprehensive and consist of LGBTQ policy inclusion, LGBTQ support and institutional commitment, LGBTQ academic life, LGBTQ student life, LGBTQ housing and residence life, LGBTQ campus safety, LGBTQ recruitment and retention efforts, as well as LGBTQ counseling and health. The LGBTQ counseling and health cluster is comprised of items such as access to LGBTQ counseling/support groups, Trans-inclusive trained counseling staff, free HIV/STI testing, LGBTQ-inclusive health information, and trans-inclusive student health insurance policies. It may be prudent for college counselors to begin advocating for more inclusive counseling and health center practices prior to approaching campus administrators regarding other campus domains that may be controlled by multiple campus stakeholders. Moreover, it is strongly recommended that campus counselors obtain both pre and post-policy change data from LGBTQ and heterosexual students in order to support future advocacy efforts across other campus systems.

In addition, prior to advocating for specific policy changes, it is imperative that college counselors create an alternative campus narrative regarding the common ground between heterosexual and homosexual students on religious campuses. On the most basic level, this can be introduced with the discussion that all students share a common human experience. The act of empathically recognizing the human scope of others’ thoughts, and feelings is referred to as humanization – a process that “transforms the dynamics of power and oppression by promoting relational attachment, reducing negative stereotypes, and decreasing hate and anger with otherwise repressed social groups” (Etengoff, 2017, p. 173; Bell & Khoury, 2011). In this way, humanization is a social justice action, motivated by a relationally complex awareness of and concern for those limited by sociopolitical structures (Etengoff, 2013, 2017). Moreover, campus clinicians on conservative religious college campuses can present this relationally complex framework within a religious context as well. For example, Malachi 2:10 (the last book of the Prophets – shared by both Christian and Jewish communities) highlights the common human experience with the following; “Have we not all one Father? Did not one God create us? Why do we profane the covenant of our fathers by breaking faith with each other?”

In addition, social psychologists suggest that by establishing a common in-group identity such as a core campus or religious group affiliation (e.g., we are all Christian/Jewish) that supersedes (although does not obscure) variations in sexual orientation, outgroup prejudice (e.g., homophobia) is likely to decrease (Gaertner & Dovidio, 2000; Jaspal, 2015). For example, a larger group identity can be formed around adhering to campus morality clauses focusing on celibacy/pre-marital sex versus the tensions surrounding specific homoprohibitive clauses. However, this model is only successful if the larger group identity (e.g., university or religious affiliation) is one which empowers and embraces all students (Jaspal, 2015) – it therefore becomes important to frame diversity and inclusivity discussions within a shared religious framework. In this vein, the same biblical volume that speaks about homosexuality, Leviticus (19:18), also highlights the need to “love your neighbor as yourself” and avoid “seeking vengeance or bearing a grudge against the sons of your own people.” While religious campus stakeholders may differ in their views regarding the im/morality of same-sex relationships, it is important that they recognize that sexual minority individuals may have religious and spiritual needs as well (e.g., Lease, Horne, & Noffsinger-Frazier, 2005). Campus counselors can additionally explain the need for LGBTQ group therapy and social support networks within both mental health and religious frameworks (e.g., “Two are better than one … If one falls down, his friend can help him up”, Ecclesiastes 4:9–10; “Where there is no guidance, a people falls, but in an abundance of counselors there is safety”, Proverbs 11:14).

Building on the above discussion, the recommended campus advocacy and policy change steps are as follows:

1. Identify the impact of current campus policies and stakeholders on LGBTQ student life.

2. Advocate for more inclusive policies and websites for the Counseling Center and Campus Health Center.

3. Collect assessment data from both LGBTQ and heterosexual students before and after implementing any changes.

4. Analyze campus specific assessment data and compare this information to other campuses’ Pride Index data.

5. Based on this analysis, write a focused proposal regarding additional LGBTQ climate changes that are imperative to implement at the campus level.

6. Share the LGBTQ proposal with existing campus allies to encourage “buy-in” for campus education efforts such as humanization trainings for staff, faculty and students.

7. Conduct pre and post assessments for the humanization trainings to support the need for further education efforts and to develop a best-practice educational model.

8. Incorporate the humanization training assessment information into the LGBTQ proposal and share the proposal with key campus stakeholders influencing campus policy, academic life, student life and safety.

Limitations

This study provides one of the first exploratory analyses of how Christian and Jewish gay men navigate challenges on conservative, religious campuses. However, the results of the current study must be interpreted in light of the associated sampling and data collection limitations. Firstly, future research would benefit from expanding the sample size as it is probable that this study’s limited sample, drawn from a larger data set, restricted the reported range of participant responses and experiences. Although, a smaller sample size was selected as it allows for a more in-depth and contextualized analysis, meeting the goal of pioneering a sociocultural framework exploring how gay men agentively respond to and transform hostile campus climates (Barrow & Kuvalanka, 2011; Dunn et al., 2015; Miles et al., 1994). However, future research would benefit from recruiting a larger, more diverse sample set in order to study between and within-group differences. For example, while the present study contributes to the conversation by presenting parallel findings on both Christian and Jewish campuses – it is challenging to analyze between-group differences or to suggest that such differences are generalizable to the larger population given the limited sample size.

In addition, the present study is limited as only White Christians and Jews elected to participate – though, this was not a criterion for inclusion. It is possible that this demographic limitation occurred as the recruitment protocol specified that the study goal was to recruit gay men and family allies, and sexual minority individuals from cultural minority backgrounds are more likely than their White counterparts to hide their sexual orientations from their families and communities (e.g., García, Gray-Stanley, & Ramirez-Valles, 2008; Pitt, 2009). Future research would also benefit from replication with other sexual and gender minority groups as well as multicultural populations on religiously conservative college campuses. Clinicians should therefore proceed with caution before generalizing the results of the present study. Finally, research on this topic needs to continue in order to study how sexual minorities’ experiences on religious college campuses continue to contribute to the evolving religious and political landscape.

Conclusion

Although the college years have become increasingly stressful in general (Pryor, Hurtado, DeAngelo, Blake, & Tran, 2010), sexual minority students often face additional levels of chronic threat and stress that can interfere with social and psychological functioning, including learning and academic success (Bailey & Strunk, 2018; Dunn et al., 2015; Jaspal, 2015; Love, 1997; Yarhouse et al., 2009). Moreover, sexual minority stress may become more acute within conservative religious contexts which maintain that there are conflicts between sexual and religious identities (Etengoff, 2013). While the present study breaks new ground by highlighting gay men’s agentive conflict-mediation pathways, it is also imperative that research and clinical intervention efforts continue to assist campus counselors in the task of supporting the religious, spiritual and psychological needs of all students.

Disclosure Statement

No potential conflict of interest was reported by the author.