“I’ve had countless hushed conversations with friends about this anxiety, and how it has led us to refrain from participation in activist events, conversations, and spaces because we feel inadequately radical.”
“I loved the Church, and I loved the gospel. I was the kind of Mormon who politely dismissed myself from classrooms when teachers showed R-rated movies. At my first and only high school rager, I texted my mother to pick me up because I felt out of place amidst the drinking and smoking. That was me, Straight-Edge Dera, except apparently I wasn’t so straight.”
I can’t make every passage better. There are some passages that are still, even after months of study, hard to accept. But I try to remind myself that it’s okay to be critical of what’s written and that questions can help my faith grow.
We’re here, we’re queer, and you should start acting like it.
It’s Pride month, it’s Ramadan, and it’s time to support queer and trans Muslims. Masjid al-Rabia and Everyone is Gay are here to help!
When my parents told me I was being “rebellious,” that my character was “ungodly” and that I was “going down the path to hell” for not doing the laundry that day or being a good caretaker in general, what they communicated to me was: I was not fulfilling my role properly, to continue to fail would mean more punishment, more isolation, unless I followed “God’s will.”
Trump doesn’t want to deal with LGBTQ activists, but he’s happy to legitimize discrimination even if he’s not legalizing it.
On Easter Sunday, I didn’t go to a church, but I quietly praised God at brunch in community with friends and strangers and so many carbs and those tiny Cadbury chocolate eggs.
I grew up hearing stories from elders about how integral the black church was to their lives during the Civil Rights era. Being a queer woman, I never quite felt that same sense of camaraderie in the church. So I found my sanctuary on Twitter.
The Morrigan has always seemed wildly queer to me. The sort of army boot-wearing femme-butch blend who uses the word “dyke” like a clenched fist aimed at the patriarchy.
When I read poetry, including the Psalms, it messes with my alignment. It forces me to sit up straighter and recognize words and ideas that pluck at the sinewy parts of myself I ignore. I hope in these few weeks we can all try to read some things that scare us.
Fighting the Christofascist uprising on our doorstep will take getting out of our complacency and belief that people can’t possibly be as bad as they seem.
After I wrote “I Was Trained for the Culture Wars in Home School, Awaiting Someone Like Mike Pence as a Messiah,” readers had a lot of questions for me. While I’m working on follow up pieces, I wanted to answer some of the most common questions and provide some explanation.
To take back the country for Christ, we needed to outbreed, outvote and outactivate the other side, thus saith The Lord.
“Somehow convincing the convent that she genuinely wanted to take holy orders Julie entered the nunnery with her girlfriend. Around a month in an elder nun died of natural causes and the two of them saw their chance; putting the dead nun in the girlfriend’s bed they set the nunnery on fire and ran off into the night.”
Yesterday, Christian blogger and memoirist Glennon Doyle Melton announced via Twitter and Facebook that she and Abby Wambach are in love.
“Not leaning into change is a lot like staring at your house while it’s on fire.”
When faith, spirituality, and cultural practice feel complicated and contradictory, it can help to have a physical object to hold onto and reflect upon. These items can root us to our histories of faith — or they may simply be a symbol of old memories.
“Hi, Linda, how are you?” “Hi, Erin. My husband’s not gay.”
What will we be watching? Who will die first?