pride Archives - Queer Theology

Your Queerness Is A Gift

by Fr. Shannon Kearns

“Why would anyone choose to be gay or trans? We’re hated and denied rights. It’s terrible.”

“Yes, I’m gay but I’m just like you! I want the same things.”

“I’m just a normal guy. Yes. I’m trans but I’m exactly the same as you.”

In the quest for equality; for access to medical care, for the right to get married, for laws to be passed ensuring our ability to rent and buy houses or to purchase wedding cakes many of us have used language like the statements above. We have created entire political campaigns based on “we’re your neighbors and we are just like you.”

It’s not that this sentiment is bad, per se, but it’s not enough. It’s not complete. And it dulls the light that queer and trans people have to give to the world.

Instead I say this:

“Your queerness and transness is a gift to you from God. And you are God’s gift to the world.”

Not because you can fit in. Not because you are just like everyone else. But because you see the world differently. Because you experience the world differently.

I am a pretty normal and boring guy. And also, I have experiences and ways of seeing the world that cisgender men don’t have. The ways that I have moved through the world as a transgender person, the work that I have had to do to come to terms with my own body, the fighting I have had to do to claim my faith and my place in the church means that I see the world different than cisgender men. And instead of that making me “less than” as a man, it makes me uniquely suited to build a healthy masculinity for myself, for the church, and for the world.

My queerness and transness isn’t something to “get over” or “move past” it’s something to claim with pride and with gratitude.

I’ve often said that if I were born a cisgender man into the environment that I was born into I would be an asshole today. Why? Because I had all of the gifts and desires and callings that were prized in that community. I am a leader. I am called to ministry. I am creative and innovative. Had I been born a cis male those gifts would have been lauded. I would have been mentored and given access to resources. And I would have never (or at least probably not as soon and as thoroughly as I did) questioned the theology and church I was raised in. I have no doubt that I would be leading a huge conservative evangelical church and preaching all sorts of bad theology. Being transgender saved me.

Being queer and/or transgender is a gift. It is a gift to see the world through different eyes. It is a gift to know who you true family and friends are. It is a gift to be able to build a family based on love and commitment. It is a gift to have to work to discover yourself, to learn to love yourself (because when you do your love is so much stronger and more deeply rooted).

Our theology is not cheap because we have worked for it. Our faith is not cheap because we have fought for it. There are no rote traditions here because we have worked for the ones that we have and we have kept the ones that give life.

We are a gift to the church because we see differently. We understand resurrection in ways that are intimate and profound. We read Scripture with eyes that are wide open and see hidden things. We infuse liturgy and worship with life because we know that none of it should be taken for granted.

We bring new understandings to what it means to be family, to what commitment looks like, to how to care for your community and neighbor. We bring new understanding to the fight for justice and how to get what you need when the government doesn’t care about you.

We are a gift to the church and the world and it’s time we start owning that. It’s time we start claiming that. Let’s banish “I’m just like you” from our vocabulary and instead build a movement that claims “We see with unique eyes and you need what we see.”

Because the world needs us. The world needs us to survive and to thrive and to reinvent how we do things.   We can and we will.

Because our queer and/or trans identities are a gift.

My First Pride

by Fr. Shannon Kearns

pride, transgender

I was 24 when I went to my first Pride celebration. I went to the one in Toronto and it was massive. Over a million people swarm the city for a week of events and celebrations culminating in a huge parade.

I was just starting to inch out of the closet. For a couple of years I had known myself to be gay (I still had no language for my gender discomfort) but I was in a situation where I couldn’t be very open about that identity. I was working as a youth pastor at a Baptist church and still living at home with my very conservative mother.

But over the previous several months I had met a woman who became my first girlfriend. She invited me to come to Pride with her before we were dating, though by the time the event rolled around we had begun our relationship.

I felt very isolated in my queerness. I didn’t have a lot of people to talk to about it and even though I was visibly gender queer I still felt mostly invisible in my life. I felt like I was constantly censoring the things that I talked about, trying to make sure that I didn’t sound “too gay.” I didn’t talk about certain TV shows or musicians. I didn’t talk about politics. I just tried to get through every day. But the silence was taking its toll on me.

I was depressed and unhealthy. Even though I was dating someone, I was still in the closet and that closet was killing me. I had a lot of good reasons for not coming out, but living that kind of life has serious impacts on a person.

I wasn’t sure what to expect at Pride. But as we entered into the city and saw the rainbow flags, I felt a sense of excitement. Everywhere we went that week we were able to be open about who we were. We were able to hold hands and dance. We were able to be together in public without looking over our shoulders or worrying we would run into someone I knew.

Throughout the week strangers would call out “Happy Pride” as we passed them on the street. It was like everywhere we went we were a part of a huge community of people. As someone who had felt so isolated, this was beautiful and affirming.

I felt seen. I felt acknowledged. I felt like I could be myself.

And once I had experienced that it was a lot harder to go back into the closet when I got back home.

That’s the thing about freedom: once you taste it you can’t get enough of it. Once you are seen for who you really are, no hiding, no lying, you realize how much you’ve been longing for it. It wasn’t long until my closet fell apart. There was a cost, for sure; I left my job at the church, the tension in my family rose, I found myself floundering and scared. But I was also free. I could be who I was. And that made all of the difference.

I know that not everyone has access to a Pride celebration (though more and more small towns are hosting them). Not everyone can go because the fear and worry of being outed is still too much. Not everyone can safely be out.

But I urge you to find a way to get yourself into a place where you can be all of yourself this month. Whether it’s attending a Pride celebration, Skype-ing with a queer friend from another place, going to an affirming church where you can be who you are, telling the truth about yourself to someone you trust, or simply getting away by yourself and acknowledging the goodness of your queerness in the quiet of your own heart; do something this month to celebrate your identity. Do something to honor the truth about who you are.

Happy Pride.

Sanctuary Collective is a lot like Pride—it’s full of amazing, supportive, loving LGBTQ+ people from around the world ready to welcome, embrace, and support you. It’s also full of incredibly useful resources like how to read the Bible queerly, an LGBTQ Christian Guide to Self Care, and more! We’d love to have you join us. Learn more!

Why are there so many naked people at Pride?

by Fr. Shannon Kearns

pride

If you’ve ever been to a Pride celebration you know that the people watching is fantastic! There are colorful outfits, elaborate costumes, cute kids, couples holding hands, and more. It’s lovely!

And there are no small number of people who are basically wearing nothing.

Maybe just underwear or tape over sensitive areas. As someone who is very much in favor of clothing for myself, I sometimes struggle with these public displays. Not out of any sense of respectability politics or prudishness, but simply because it’s not something I would choose for myself. I’ve heard other folks mention their discomfort (for all sorts of reasons) about the nakedness of Pride and so I spent some time reflecting on my own reaction.

Pride (for all of its faults; whitewashing, trans exclusion, corporate assimilation, etc.) is a celebration of life in the face of oppression and repression.

If for 364 days of the year you are told that your body is sinful and sick… If for 364 days a year you are told that who you have sex with and who you love should be kept hidden… If for 364 days a year you are told that your body is weird and your scars are ugly and your clothing or hair or fat or penis or breasts or arms or legs or flesh itself is disgusting and vile and “unnatural”…

If for 364 days of the year you walk around in fear… If you hide your love… If you hide your body… If you drop your lover’s hand in public or refuse to kiss your lover goodbye in front of your workplace… If you fear violence walking home at night or in the broad light of the afternoon sun…

And on one day of the year; one precious day, you can be yourself without fear of judgment… If for one day you can be embodied… If for one day you can love and laugh and have sex and walk around in your underwear…

If for one precious, holy, special day you can celebrate your body, your flesh, your love, your passion, your life, than you should celebrate, embrace, and love it all.

pride

Your Queerness Is A Gift

My First Pride

Why are there so many naked people at Pride?

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