Gays of Chick-fil-A
Personal Project | Portrait & Interview Series
In 2019, I won a year supply of Chick-fil-A sandwiches.
Admittedly, I was very excited to win. Chick-fil-A had long been one of my go-to places for a quick bite to eat. I love their food and their customer service.
But then I got to thinking. Chick-fil-A has been under fire over the past decade for the company’s stance on LGBTQ+ social issues. Should I really be celebrating and championing a company that doesn’t support me and my friends?
So, instead of chowing down on those chicken sandwiches myself, I decided to highlight the stories of my LGBTQ+ peers over a Chick-fil-A meal. There’s something really poetic about taking money directly from the company’s pockets and handing it back to the community they have historically discriminated against in the form of chicken sandwiches.
These are the Gays of Chick-fil-A.
Marissa
“It's just not really a priority of mine to care about what men think.
Cutting my hair short was a really liberating thing for me in that, too. And just looking queer and not even having any kind of connection to what men think is the ‘correct woman,’ you know? Like, I’m so incorrect and it's disgusting to them and that makes me really happy.
But it hasn't always been liberating. I cut my hair short two or three years ago now. And that was this big transition time professionally, personally, emotionally, with my family, with a lot. And I didn't understand how deeply your hair or your presentation could really impact the way people see you or the way you think people are seeing you.
I decided to cut my hair. Whenever I did for like a week straight I would cry every day about it. I didn't like it at all. I was just in shambles about it.
And then instead of growing it out, I just cut it shorter. I just kept on getting it shaved and shaved and now I do like a mid-bald fade. But once I started to get it shorter, I was like the hot butch I've always wanted to be.
I think that there's a broader way that society views me as queer and that feels very validating, actually. I like it when people know that I'm queer from the get-go, because it just makes everything a lot easier and less weird. I dress like a boy because other queer people can identify me. It has a lot less to do with, for me personally, my gender presentation. I think it has some to do with that, but it's mostly that I really like being identifiable.
It has to do with feeling part of a community. I think that everyone who identifies as queer—no matter how they look—should be respected as queer. But for me, it's a way for me to say, ‘I'm aggressively part of this group.’”
“I like it when people know that I’m queer from the get-go, because it just makes everything a lot easier and less weird.”
Michael
“I don't see it distinctly different from just being a person. I don't think that it's necessarily a defining trait. It's just a natural part of existing.
I know that there's supposed to be some type of ‘the closet doors were opened and the hinges flew off and there was this trail of confetti and glitter that followed.’ Maybe I'm just too abnormal or normal, but I don't have one of those stories. I always knew I was who I was.
And the kids knew on day one that I was a gay man. Not because I wore a pride flag to school, but just because there's a certain, I think, personality, a certain expressiveness, a certain type of just freedom to be who you are that I think a lot of straight people do not embody. And it comes across differently—whether it's in the tone of voice, a quip, some type of sarcastic comment, whether it's in a look or a glance or whatever—the kids can piece that together.
I had a student last year—we were having class the first or second day of 2019—and there was a girl who's exceptionally vocal and very much rights-minded and doesn’t like discrimination.
When we were going over classroom procedures, syllabus, whatever, some of the boys behind her to her left were sort of tittering and laughing and pointing and, you know, conjecturing under their breath. And she could hear them, of course.
And she just rips it out and goes, ‘Are you gay?’ And just announces to the entire class as, like, a classroom discussion on day one. She just wants to make the query and embarrass them, because I think she knew I didn't care, and I didn't. I said, ‘Yes. Does it matter? Now let's move on to the back page of the syllabus,’ and we moved on and it wasn't an issue. But it almost emboldened her and it embarrassed them by putting me on the spot about something that really didn't matter. And it sort of set that tone for that entire year.
I know that there was at least, I'm sure, like one or two kids in that class that were also gay who were like, ‘Oh, okay, it's not a big deal.’ And I think that, in and of itself, might've been more helpful for them than the two seconds of potential embarrassment they thought it was going to cause me.”
“I don’t think that it’s necessarily a defining trait. It’s just a natural part of existing.”
Jocelyn
“I guess for the longest time, I low-key knew. Even as a child, I would make little references or try to do things that are more commonly associated with femininity, like practicing ballet or choosing to watch Sailor Moon exclusively when coming home from preschool every day.
There were moments during high school where I felt like it would have been easier to profess my attraction to men if I was more of a woman. So, some nights during that time I would be praying to God before bed, ‘Please, one of these days. I don't know what I need to do, but if you can, the next morning when I wake up, I want to be a woman.’ And, of course, I wake up and I'm still the same.
But then I realized I was already that woman I wanted to be. It just took me a while to find that voice.
Right now, I'm currently finishing up my third year of medical school, still surviving somehow. After finishing my two-month rotation of internal medicine, I've been realizing I like that so much. I love the patient population I got to work with and the amount of patients they see. I feel like it's a way where I can be a hospitalist, but also have outpatients where I'm a primary care physician, and eventually provide gender care for other trans and non-binary individuals out there.
For one thing, just being someone who is kind of familiar with that experience in itself—I feel like that's one part of it. But also, being able to educate them and learn more about how to provide safe and effective gender care. Being the primary care physician, I would be able to meet different individuals who specialize in other things, like a person who does gender confirmation surgery, or maybe a psychiatrist or therapist who can help with things like gender dysphoria. I want to be able to provide that kind of information and some sort of safe space where my patients can seek out medical care and I can direct them to other people who may be able to help as well.”
“But then I realized I was already that woman I wanted to be. It just took me a while to find that voice.”
Patrick
“I was born and raised Catholic. Growing up, I was confirmed and everything. I always liked church. I liked going to mass. I like being Catholic. There's something to hold onto. I've been super, super blessed throughout my life and I haven't had a lot of struggles. This doesn’t just happen because I'm a lucky person. There's someone that's watching over me. So I definitely hold firm to that belief.
A lot of people, when I tell them I'm gay and Catholic, they're like, ‘What? How's that? That's crazy because the Bible doesn't believe in gay marriage.’
There's only been maybe one time where I've been in church and the priest talked about the LGBT community, and it was in a negative way. It was during the homily and he talked about how there was so much destruction in the world right now and listed off several things, including how same-sex marriage was legalized. That kind of opened up a light and made it real.
I really do like the Catholic faith for the most part, except for some of the little rules that need to be modernized. Maybe the faith will change, but that's a hard thing to do. I definitely have this internal conflict.
It's just silly because you're supposed to be accepting and loving of everybody, but you can discriminate on other certain people to pick and choose what sins to follow. That's kind of frustrating. But I think in the end, if you're a good person and you put out good into the world, then that's what you'll be judged on.
I think I care too much sometimes when it comes to what people think about me. And I think some of that comes from maybe not accepting yourself as much, being gay. I think it goes hand in hand with needing validation outside from others because you don't feel validated in your own true self.
Slowly but surely, I feel like I've been much better about not caring. It's taken me years to build up the confidence and pride in myself to be who I am. But I’m stilI not a hundred percent there yet.”
“I think in the end, if you’re a good person and you put out good into the world, then that’s what you’ll be judged on.”
Kelsey
“I started working at Chick-fil-A towards the end of my senior year in high school. It was my first job ever. I didn't even know there was a history with Chick-fil-A and LGBT stuff until the summer of 2012. That's when it all went down.
That was when the son of the founder said, ‘we support traditional family values,’ meaning we do not support gay people and same-sex marriage. When I found out, I remember turning around and gripping the counter and just trying not to cry, because even though I didn’t know I was gay at the time, I really cared a lot about gay rights.
The company was getting some backlash, so Mike Huckabee said, ‘We’re going to show our support of Chick-fil-A. Everybody go to your local Chick-fil-A.’
And they did.
It was madness. The line to get to the speaker in the drive-thru was 45 minutes long. We were backing up traffic on the freeway because so many people were getting off at the exit. The line inside the restaurant was snaked around, and outside it wrapped around the building. The AC broke inside the restaurant because people were holding the door open.
It was so bizarre because everyone was being so positive and nice. And, as a Chick-fil-A employee, they're supporting me and smiling at me and applauding me. And I just kept thinking ‘I don't agree with any of you people.’
I didn't figure out I was gay until years after I left that job. I very much repressed the idea. It was just not even an option. It didn't even cross my mind.
My mom would even ask sometimes. She would be like, ‘You know, we'd love you no matter what.’ And I was so adamant that it wasn't me. But I just didn't know it. I had to come into it on my own.
I think there was a lot of repressed stereotypes of what being gay meant and what that would entail. No one wants to give up a dream of having a very ‘normal life.’ The idea that I'd get with a guy and get married and have kids and all that stuff. Having to come to terms with that, you have to reshape your perspective on your own future. So, I think that’s what caused me to block it out for so long.
But I obviously couldn't deny when I developed feelings for my partner and things just started making sense.”
“I was so adamant that it wasn’t me. But I just didn’t know it. I had to come into it on my own.”
While the pandemic cut my project short, I’m still proud of the outcome.
Thank you to Marissa, Patrick, Jocelyn, Michael, and Kelsey for their time, insight, and vulnerability.