How do you know so and so consequences?
That’s a fair and important question. To be honest, if I were to describe myself, I’d say I’m more of an interdisciplinary thinker than a specialist. It’s not about credentials—it’s a passion. I often find myself obsessively curious about different subjects, following threads of thought that lead me down deep rabbit holes of reading, questioning, and reflection. One month it could be astrophysics (trying to make sense of Einstein’s space-time headaches), another it’s ancient civilization, and sometimes it’s the quiet fields of moral philosophy or anthropology.
Now, in relation to "knowing the consequences" of certain lifestyles or behaviors—particularly regarding sexuality—I must clarify that my conclusions haven’t been drawn lightly, nor from a single sermon or social media post. This particular inquiry began with a curiosity:
Why do communities that live according to scriptural teachings often seem more cohesive or resilient in certain metrics—family, purpose, long-term orientation? Not always, of course, but often enough to provoke deeper exploration.
From there, I went down months-long pathways into how societies function, how values shape outcomes, and yes, I immersed myself in data, articles, and anecdotal evidence from Western and Latin American contexts. Reddit, for example, has served as a sort of anthropological window—raw and unfiltered—into communities including LGBT+ individuals across continents. I didn’t go in seeking to confirm biases. I just watched, listened, and asked:
What does this lifestyle produce long-term? Where is flourishing? Where is despair? What I saw, across multiple sources and spaces, wasn’t uniformly affirming—certain patterns of mental health struggles, relational instability, and social fragmentation kept recurring. Not as isolated incidents, but as consistent themes.
Do I have a peer-reviewed meta-analysis at hand? Perhaps not. But the mosaic formed from hundreds of pieces—data points, testimonies, cultural trends—has shaped my view. I remain humble about the complexity of the issue. I know I’m not omniscient, and I welcome better evidence if it challenges my current conclusions. But I also believe that thoughtful observation, persistent curiosity, and the willingness to wade through uncomfortable truths can, over time, lead to clarity—even if that clarity doesn’t come with footnotes.
So, no—my conclusions aren’t based solely on traditional "comparative sexual studies," though I’ve encountered some. They’re based on a broader, holistic journey of exploration. If that’s insufficient by academic standards, I understand. But it’s honest. And I stand by the integrity of the process that led me here.