By Jared D. Childress | OBSERVER Staff Writer
EDITOR’S NOTE: The OBSERVER is observing Pride Month with “Black PRIDE,” a series telling the stories of and identifying the critical issues for Black LGBTQIA+ folk in the Sacramento area.
An evangelist asked the congregation of a small church in Los Angeles “who wants to be saved?”
It was 1964 and only one member of Laurel Street Baptist church raised a hand – and it belonged to a 5-year-old.
The mother pulled her daughter’s hand down, not sure if her little one understood the question.
But the child walked to the altar. The evangelist preached to her.
“He told me I was special and said what God was going to do in my life,” Rev. Doretha Williams-Flournoy’s eyes lit up as she remembered. “He gave me a Bible and told the pastor to baptize me. I was off and running in church from that time forward.”
The Ungodly Hour
Four decades later, she was running around gay clubs at an ungodly hour – but she was doing the Lord’s work.
Sacramento’s Lavender Heights, the local LGBTQIA+ district, was ground zero of her missionary work in 2006. She and about 20 others conversed with club goers and canvassed cars, spreading the Good Word.
“We weren’t interested in stopping them from going to the club because in our world, the club is the church,” said Doretha, who identifies as a lesbian. “We just wanted them to know that we as gay people are good enough. We can be spiritual and have a relationship with the Creator just as we are.”
They held church at Club 21, a now defunct gay club. The same club that hours before stank of spilled beer and body odor was transformed into a sacred space by Sunday afternoon.
“People would walk in off the street and sit down, listen and want to be a part of it,” Doretha said. She said when a convicted murderer joined the church she thought, “This is reaching further than I could have ever imagined.”
Those days in the early aughts grew into “A Church for All,” an inclusive church now located in North Highlands ministered by Rev. Doretha.
Doretha, 63, holds a master’s in psychology and a certificate of religious studies from the Pacific School of Religion in Oakland. Today she lives openly as a lesbian engaged to Dr. Pat Spearman, a Nevada state senator.
But she lived most of her life as a closeted bisexual.
She became aware of her attraction to women while a preteen and spent her teenage years trying to pray the gay away before marrying MacArthur Flournoy in 1986. Today, MacArthur lives openly as a Black gay reverend; he is currently the chaplain at the Institute for Human Services in Hawaii and will soon be a chaplain resident at UC Davis.
But before Doretha and MacArthur could be the out and proud spiritual advocates they are today, they played the parts of a picture-perfect pastor and first lady.
The Preacher’s Wife
Doretha was directing choir rehearsal in 1983 at San Francisco State University when MacArthur walked in the room. He said when she prayed he got the impression that “something had entered the room.” That “something” was the Holy Spirit, he said.
Their first date followed soon after; they went to Bible study before heading back to her place. They sat on her living room floor, eating chicken and chatting till dawn.
“She explained who Jesus is, what love is, and what it means to be loved by God,” MacArthur said. “And I never knew that. I grew up in a so-called Christian home but they didn’t behave as Christians.”
MacArthur was raised in the Baptist church in Los Angeles. His home life was laden with domestic violence at the hands of his alcoholic father.
It became clear they both were gay early in their courtship; Doretha called him out and admitted that she was too. It was never discussed again until their marriage dissolved about 10 years later in 1994.
“We thought being gay was a sin and God was going to deliver us,” MacArthur said.
Deliverance never came despite their persistent prayers to be the heterosexual couple they portrayed.
An Abomination?
Rev. Kevin Ross, a heterosexual, cisgender senior minister at Unity of Sacramento and recent graduate of Harvard divinity school, said it’s not a sin to be LGBTQIA+. He quoted Jeremiah 1:1, which says, “Before I formed you in the womb I knew you, before you were born I set you apart.”
“One’s beingness – one’s ontology – is preincarnate,” Ross said. “There’s no sin in the essence of who you are. Being gay is no more a sin than being Black is a sin.”
The “clobber verses” are often cited when speaking to the Bible’s stance on homosexuality and queerness. The verses are a group of passages including the story of Sodom and Gomorrah, Paul’s first letter to the Corinthians, and the Levitical laws.
Leviticus 20:13 reads in the Kings James version: “If a man also lie with mankind, as he lieth with a woman, both of them have committed an abomination: they shall surely be put to death; their blood shall be upon them.”
MacArthur, who holds degrees in liberation theology and public policy from Pacific School of Religion, said those Levitical laws were of that time and not applicable today.
“Those Scriptures are purity Scriptures given to a Levite priest. We don’t live under that covenant anymore,” MacArthur said. “That’s the purpose of Jesus coming.”
A Fever Pitch
Today, MacArthur is not only a visible gay Christian; he is also open about his HIV+ status. He was diagnosed in 1986, just months after his and Doretha’s nuptials.
MacArthur said the diagnosis was “horrific.”
The HIV epidemic reached a fever pitch in the 1980s. Claiming about 100,777 lives in a decade’s time, according to the Centers for Disease Control and Prevention. Not much was known of the disease first called GRID, or Gay-Related Immune Deficiency. GRID was renamed HIV in 1986, the year Doretha and MacArthur married. That year also was the beginning of the epidemic’s peak years and a year prior to approval of the first treatment.
Today, Blacks nationally are the demographic most affected by HIV. While Black Americans are 12% of the population, in 2019 they accounted for almost half of new HIV diagnoses at 42%. Black women are the fastest-growing HIV+ demographic.
When MacArthur was diagnosed, the news was delivered in a “dry and matter-of-fact” way whereby he was advised to get his affairs in order.
He attributes his life today to his mother’s and Doretha’s prayers.
“I would be asleep and Doretha would be walking around the room, praying and laying hands on me,” MacArthur said. About a month after his diagnosis, Doretha came to him with the message: “God told me you aren’t going anywhere until you finish your work.”
Today he is in his fourth career as a chaplain and has been positive for 36 years. He never thought he would live this long.
Immaculate Conception
Their marriage produced two children, the first adopted and second biological. Their family portrait was the archetype of a first family: the preacher, preacher’s wife, and two preacher’s kids.
“Our relationship gave us the opportunity to do the things everybody wanted,” Doretha said. “Get married, have kids and be in the church.”
MacArthur had been living with HIV for about four years when their biological child was conceived in 1990 while doing missionary work in Nigeria.
Doretha never contracted HIV. Neither did her newborn.
MacArthur described the child’s conception as an “absolute expression of love and faith.”
“It was a mystical experience – we were acting purely on faith,” MacArthur said. “We had three ministers come to us consecutively saying God is going to bless us with a child.”
Doretha, who also battled fibroid tumors, was told by a therapist to try for a child as long as she was “willing to give her life” for it.
Another missionary prayed over them, consecrating their intimacy.
“I believe everything I do is ordained by God – even the mistakes,” she said. She told of a dream had during their courtship in which she saw MacArthur as “two people. I believe that was God’s way of saying, ‘Go ahead and marry him, but you’re going to have some things happen,” she said.
Crucifixion
A domestic violence incident in 1994 ended their marriage. MacArthur became violent during an argument thought to be about parenting.
“It was almost like I blacked out,” said MacArthur, who added that his behavior was similar to his abusive father’s. “I remember seeing my son’s face and he looked frightened – and that caused me to release her.”
MacArthur said his behavior was a betrayal of Doretha’s trust and his own values.
Today, both he and Doretha say the underlying issue was that they were living a lie.
“The event said that this is not going to work. So we separated and he came out completely,” Doretha said. “He was a gay man and I was a lesbian; we needed to lean into that.”
But Doretha, the daughter of a deacon and deaconess, wasn’t ready to come out. She was raised with biblical principles of how the world should be and wasn’t ready to let that go.
So she waited for MacArthur to return, but he moved to San Francisco and started a new chapter living openly as a gay Christian.
Shortly after, MacArthur filed for divorce.
Resurrection
Before their divorce was finalized in 1996, their interactions were facilitated by mediators of the court or conversations including other family members. One private conversation, however, would signal a rebirth of their relationship on new terms.
In the encounter, Doretha made the emotional concession to forgive MacArthur.
“I decided I wasn’t going to hold on to things,” she said. “I wanted the kids to have a relationship with their dad.”
She continued her ministry in the Black church, but her mental health took a turn. She thought of giving up her children. She considered taking her own life.
“I actually told God that I was done,” she said. “If He wasn’t going to fix it, I was going to handle it.”
Before that came to pass, she drove past a church mentioned by a friend. It was MCC Long Beach, an LGBTQIA+ affirming Metropolitan Community Church.
“I just wanted to see who the people were,” Doretha said. “I didn’t believe it was really ‘that kind of church’ because everybody looked so normal.”
The white evangelists began singing bluegrass Christian music she’d never heard.
“Tears were just running down my face,” she said. “I could feel the power and the cool breeze rubbing, running, rolling across my face.
“It felt so sweet to be there.”
Doretha began spending more time at that church and less at the Black church.
She eventually left the Black church, unhinging herself from the pews, the robust sound of the gospel choir, the unforgettable cadence of the Baptist preacher.
“I had to learn to have a conversation with God without all that,” she said.
Doretha has lived openly since that moment in 1996. She found a new partner and MacArthur did too. He and his partner, Glenn, adopted three children, making Doretha a mother of five. The two households were within walking distance from one another in Natomas. All four parents would show up to parent-teacher conferences, throwing instructors for a loop.
“Teachers would freak out,” she laughed.
MacArthur went on to work for the Human Rights Campaign, the nation’s largest LGBTQIA+ advocacy organization. Today, he provides spiritual care to people recently diagnosed with HIV or in the midst of end-of-life care or palliative care.
He and Doretha remain great friends and confidants.
“When you walk in truth and authenticity you will know people in a way you never thought possible,” MacArthur said. “You recognize that you have more than a friend – you have a companion in the journey. That’s really what Christianity is: a journey of faith, a journey of love, and a journey of absolute authenticity.”
Doretha went on to become the executive director of the AIDS Project of the East Bay; she would stand on high rises, praying over the city of Oakland.
But she didn’t plan to be a minister until her mentor told her it was her calling.
Doretha remembers her saying: “That is what you’re supposed to be doing – that is who you are. You think being a pastor means being secluded, but it’s the kind of work you’re doing right now: taking care of people and giving them hope.”
A Church for All’s Sunday service doesn’t start until 12:30, the late service a residual of their club ministry. The church’s missionary work now includes mental health services, with the secular mental health respite called “The Ripple Effect,” and “The Living Room,” an African American suicide prevention program.
Doretha is doing what she has been called to do since she first said yes to God at 5 years old.
“My ministry is about believing in purpose and helping others see themselves — and that is a slow, nurturing type of ministry,” she said. “It’s a totally different way to do church.”
HIV Fast Facts
Here are some resources and fast facts about HIV/AIDS courtesy of Golden Rule Services (GRS), a local Black-owned STI clinic. The only way to know if you have HIV is to get tested. To schedule a free HIV test call GRS at 916-427-4653 or visit sacgrs.org.
What Is HIV? HIV (human immunodeficiency virus) is a virus that attacks cells that help the body fight infection, making a person more vulnerable to other infections and diseases. It is spread by contact with certain bodily fluids of a person with HIV, most commonly during unprotected sex (sex without a condom or HIV medicine to prevent or treat HIV), or through sharing injection drug equipment.
What Is AIDS? AIDS is the late stage of HIV infection that occurs when the body’s immune system is badly damaged because of the virus. A person with HIV is considered to have progressed to AIDS when their CD4 cells fall below 200 cells per cubic millimeter of blood, or they develop one or more opportunistic infections regardless of their CD4 count.
How Do I Know If I Have HIV? The only way to know for sure is to get tested. To schedule your free HIV test, call 916-427-4653.
Prevention Methods
Pre-Exposure Prophylaxis (PrEP) – Although pre-exposure prophylaxis, or PrEP, for HIV prevention requires you to take real action to ensure your sexual safety. The use of PrEP requires a prescription from your doctor for Truvada or Descovy and regular checkups with your doctor. When taken daily, the drug is 99% effective in preventing the user from contracting HIV from a partner.
Post-Exposure Prophylaxis (PEP) – Post-exposure prophylaxis, or PEP, is not a first-line effort to prevent HIV, but a secondary option if you believe you have been exposed to HIV. You can take PEP up to 72 hours after exposure, although it is ideal to start within 24 hours. PEP reportedly reduces the chance of HIV infection by 83%. To get PEP, go to the nearest emergency room.