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June is Pride month, a month for reminding ourselves how far we’ve come since that fateful day – 28 June 1969 – when patrons of the Stonewall Inn, New York, decided that they were through with government-backed harassment of gays. Their brave stand sparked a series of riots that many now see as the birth of the gay liberation movement. Without denying all the big and little moves that had already been made before, Stonewall became a defining event in the walk towards full equality for LGBT folk. I understand that there are mixed feelings about today’s pride marches especially in those countries where LGBT rights are already in place. My take on this is that, even at the risk of ghettoising the gay-rights movement, or reinforcing stereotypically gay behaviour, there is still a need for such events. One can hardly say that queer issues are non-issues the world over. Rather, homophobia is still present in a majority of countries (incl. so-called civilised societies). A pride march is a valid – in many cases, important – way of saying: we’re here, get used to it!
Writing my post on the eve of Pentecost, a wicked thought crossed my mind: the Holy Spirit is the secret agent inspiring queers in greater numbers to press for the freedom that is ours as children of God. For embodied creatures freedom is not simply an internal affair (read: emotional, psychological, spiritual), important as this may be. We incarnate and symbolise our freedom even through the language of ‘space’.
A gospel text I love to return to time and again is that found in the fourth chapter of Luke. Jesus uses a text from the OT –the book by the prophet Isaiah – to announce the shape of his own ministry:
18 The Spirit of the Lord is on me, because he has anointed me to preach good news to the poor. He has sent me to proclaim freedom for the prisoners and recovery of sight for the blind, to release the oppressed, 19 to proclaim the year of the Lord’s favour. (Luke 4:18-19 quoting Isaiah 61:1,2)
In a society obsessed by what we possess, and how much we possess, we tend to overlook the importance of space. In one of the psalms attributed to King David (Psalm 18), the author describes God’s deliverance from his enemies in spatial terms:
19 He brought me out into a spacious place; he rescued me because he delighted in me.
As queer folk we can relate to this experience, as we describe our early steps towards freedom as a coming-out process, the closet being that dark, confined space where we were imprisoned in a false identity. Now, if you follow the train of my thoughts, you will also begin to appreciate the importance of inhabiting a queer space. What do I mean by this?
Well, for a start it includes what I have just said regarding the process of coming out of the closet to the extent that we are able to do so. It would make little sense to talk of a queer space if this space were to be hidden, lied about, denied, or whatever. It would still be a ‘space’ but it’d best be described as a prison. On the other hand, it would be crazy to think that, once the coming-out process has been fulfilled, it’s plain sailing from there on. Inhabiting a queer space implies therefore that such a space is not simply created but also maintained. I inhabit a queer space when I focus at least some of my energy to create a space within which I can truly be myself, a place or places where I can pursue those interests that are intrinsically bound with who I am as a queer. At the very least I’m thinking of a place and a time (the fourth dimension of space) where it’s okay to be queer, where heteronormativity and homophobia are locked out (or in, if you prefer). It isn’t too difficult to recognise queer spaces – they would be spaces where we do not need to decode the environment, but would feel immediately at home, whether we are alone or in the company of others: praying, dining, chatting, or just chilling out.
Image by mattwi1s0n via Flickr
Whilst it is very important to safeguard these queer spaces, we may also be called to share them, not simply with other queers but also with our families and our straight friends. It is an act of courage, and one of simple humility. My understanding is that, as we become more comfortable with ourselves – we fully inhabit our queer spaces – then it would be the most natural thing to do, to share the same with those who are willing to accept us as we are (even if they do not fully understand where we’re coming from). To those of us who are more spiritually inclined it is a form of evangelisation. We witness to the Good News in our life, that we have come to know Jesus, and that we have received his love in our life. After all, chances are that our God is a queer God, whose thoughts are not our thoughts, and whose ways are not our ways (Isaiah 55:8). Vive la diversitée! Happy Pride!
Suggested reading
Gay Theology Without Apology (Gary D Comstock)
Unrepentant, Self-Affirming, Practicing: Lesbian/Bisexual/Gay People within Organized Religion (Gary D Comstock)
We Drink from Our Own Wells: The Spiritual Journey of a People (Gustavo Gutiérrez)
Related articles
- The Queer Spirituality of Lady Gaga (jesusinlove.blogspot.com)
- Pentecost: Holy Spirit brings LGBT visions (jesusinlove.blogspot.com)
- Social Sin and Queer Shame: A Gay Priest’s Personal Spiritual Sharing (queeringthechurch.com)
- Church of Scotland Welcomes Queer Clergy (queeringthechurch.com)
