The Drag Circuit & the Imperial Court System ...

One of the things that made a big impression on me during my stay in San Francisco was meeting some of the area's drag queens and seeing how much money they raise for charity and how hard they work in their communities.

I had no idea that there is an Imperial court system in place for American, Mexican & Canadian drag queens, and was extremely impressed at how organised the structure is, and how much of a support the system is to those inside and outside it.  They support a number of charitable organisations and - in addition to their fundraising shows and events, they donate of their own time, talents and possessions to support their communities and those in need.

As I reflected in one of my earlier posts, to illustrate the power of embracing this community and their community ethic, during my stay in San Francisco, I learned of St. Aidan's, an inclusive Episcopalian congregation in San Francisco that welcomes the local drag community into their midst and the drag community is encouraged to fund raise on their premises. The congregation of St. Aidan's has also raised funds for the drag queen's chosen charities. As a result of this mutually beneficial and generous relationship, the drag queens in turn largely funded the parish's food pantry for an entire year.  To me, this is an example of the potential power that true inclusion holds to work for good in our communities.

I was trying to find the right words to explain a little bit more about the Imperial Court system, but decided that, rather than offer misleading information, it would be best summarised by simply quoting a leaflet I was handed at the coronation ceremony for the Alameda Ducal Court I had the privilege of attending before I left San Francisco:

About Latinos and the Imperial Courts

The International Imperial Court System of the United States, Canada and Mexico was established in 1965 by a Latino, Jose Julio Sarria.  There are Imperial Court chapters in over 68 cities within the United States, Canada and Mexico.  Jose, who is now 91 years old and retired, appointed Nicole M. Ramirez, a well-known gay Latino activist, as his successor in 2007. 

The Imperial Courts welcome everyone as members; gays, lesbians, transgender, bisexuals, heterosexuals, friends and family.  The Imperial Courts membership is based on a Royal Court, with Dukes, Duchesses, Prince, Princess, etc., and is headed by an elected Emperor and Empress.  Imperial Court memberships are all volunteer ... no one gets paid.  The Imperial Courts hold events in the LGBT Communities and raise funds for charities and many causes, including children's charity concerns and student scholarships.

For more information, visit www.impcourt.org 

Equality in Kansas

I had the opportunity to visit Kansas last week, and jumped at the opportunity ... After all, it'll be at least another ten years before I get another period of extended ministerial development leave, and the opportunity to visit Kansas may not present itself next time.

Why Kansas? Because it's home to two people I've been interacting with online for a while now, regarding equality, equal rights and the church ...

Firstly, Sarah Manley (writer of the Nerdy Apple blog, amongst other claims to fame) and I started chatting online after her blog went viral, and found ourselves exchanging ideas on equality. I love her sense of justice, and her humour and sarcasm, and that she is also a fantastic straight ally for the LGBTQ community. A straight ally is a powerful and lovely thing, and we always need more.

Secondly, Matthew Vines, who I started chatting to and exchanging messages with after his YouTube video about the Bible and homosexuality went viral.  Matthew's video is detailed, precise and a great resource, but is only the beginning.  As someone who has experienced homophobia, and been kicked out of the parish I was serving my curacy in, because the rector had a problem with me being gay, I was grateful to have access to an online tool that I could refer people to, and enjoyed messaging Matthew, and watching the growth of his ministry.

Both Sarah & Matthew have been an encouragement to me, and when the opportunity to take a short trip to Kansas presented itself, I decided it was one I couldn't miss.

It was exciting to meet Sarah and her husband, "The Detective" ;-) , to learn more about the paths we'd walked that helped shape our attitudes to inequality, and to get to know each other better, over copious quantities of affordable, good, BBQ food. We were the last three to leave the restaurant and I left grateful, encouraged (& stuffed).

With Sarah

In order to meet Matthew, I would have to drive right by Topeka, and I had a morbid curiosity about stopping off to look at Westboro Baptist Church (infamous for not having anything positive to say about anything or anyone, and for picketing soldiers' funerals, and praising God for the death of everyone except themselves).  I was intrigued, but also apprehensive ... having had such a positive inclusive time so far, I didn't want expose myself unnecessarily to homophobia (it's all unnecessary, but there's enough homophobia in daily life, politics, society and media, without looking for more).

On Matthew's suggestion, however, I stopped by the Equality House (which is across the road from WBC), & knocked on the door, not really knowing if it was a private home or an office (the answer is, both!).

I was met by, and welcomed in by Amelia and Aaron, and found out more about their ministry, about how they're helping to bring hope and a positive message to an area often shrouded in negativity. I learned that the Equality House is a charity, and very much needs the support of others, in order to continue offering themselves in this way. If you have the means, please do consider supporting them financially. If you don't have the means to give financially, support them with your prayers and by making more people aware of them, or by holding a fundraiser for them.

The Equality House

Interestingly, because I so enjoyed the Equality House and chatting with Amelia and Aaron, I nearly forgot that I wanted a photo of Westboro Baptist church, and quickly snapped one before rushing off. Their ministry turned a stopover in the same street as Westboro Baptist Church into a positive experience.

A sad group of people, centred around an angry, xenophobic old man.

With that done, I continued on to Wichita, and it was great to finally meet up with Matthew in person and discover the mind and person behind his studies and video, and also to learn more about the Reformation project, that has come out of that initial video. The Reformation Project aims to offer intensive training to people, to help them counter homophobia in their communities and congregations.

It was lovely seeing how excited Matthew is by his ministry, and how it energises him. The fight against homophobia and for recognition and equality so often exhausts us, that it's energising to meet someone who themselves is excited by it.  When the Reformation Project outgrows it's Wichita base, it'd be lovely to look at bringing it over to the UK, and I'll continue to watch Matthew's progress with interest.

With Matthew Vines in Wichita

I'm so glad I got the opportunity to meet up with Sarah & the Detective, & Matthew, and to have the opportunity to add to what has already been such a positive experience in San Francisco on this sabbatical.  It's incredible how I've gotten to know most of my contacts for this Sabbatical over the internet, (thank you, Sir Tim Berners-Lee!) and it's been fantastic to get the chance to meet them, and learn so much from such great people.

Inclusive church in the community

Following on from my earlier post about an inclusive church service, in addition to attending a service, I had the pleasure of seeing the inclusive church in action in the community yesterday, as well.

I had been invited by Diana, to go and share in a picnic lunch on a blanket in Dolores Park, San Francisco, which was also an opportunity to offer spiritual advice to the local community.  Because of location, obviously much (if not most) of the local community is made up of members of the LGBT community.  Because it was warm and sunny, the park was full of people making the most of it ... there were people eating and drinking with friends, catching the sun, enjoying ballgames, walking dogs (and even a kitten!), holding hands, and relaxing. It's sad that I feel I need to add that last sentence, in case people think that gays in a park must automatically mean cruising, and it's sad that people who may assume that can't see the bigotry behind that assumption, or fail to recognise that - even if that were the case - that many straight people do it too (reference the Channel 4 documentary on 'Dogging').

Anyway, the group of us that gathered included a Deacon, two monks, a drag queen, a Rector, an Archdeacon, and myself.  We set up blankets, food and a sign advertising that we were offering spiritual advice. Although we didn't get much interest in the spiritual advice that day, we did have a guy come over who shared that the advice he'd received previously had really helped. He was walking by, collecting donations for the AIDS walk in a few weeks, so he was giving back to the community.  We also had a few people come over to say hello to some of our group that they knew, and there was no shame in doing so.

My experience of ministering to the LGBT community back home is that - often - they don't want to be seen to be talking to a person of faith, because of the LGBT community's experiences of faith communities; how they've been vilified and ostracised, or at best - allowed into our churches or groups, and demonised and dehumanised.  So, the two communities often have an inherent distrust of each other, which can make it very difficult to offer any authentic ministry to the LGBT community.

It was lovely to be gathered with such a diverse group in the midst of a very diverse community, and - once again - to be there with a sense of pride at being able to be present in a community without a sense of apology and guilt.  We were there because we genuinely wanted to help and affirm them for their sake, not because we wanted to change them into what we thought they should be, or because we wanted them to join our churches.  This was about them; helping them to make sense of their lives and their key life moments, and offering advice to help them become who they were created to be.

The ministry on the blanket had a sense of validity, through the hard work of the colleagues and friends I was gathered with ... they have spent a long time working in the community, and because of that, were able to be there without any sense of animosity or suspicion, which I think would be the case if a church group suddenly placed themselves in a park in the UK where the LGBT community was gathered to enjoy the sun. Through the way it has treated members of the LGBT community, the Church in the UK (capital 'C'), has largely lost it's credibility with the LGBT community (and it's not hard to see why).

My experience on Sunday was that it was both energising and inspiring to be in the midst of a community that had spent so many years in the margins, not as superiors, but as members of that community, offering ourselves and our ministry to them, and to have them view us without animosity.  We were simply an equal part of the community.

On the blanket in Dolores Park, offering ministry to the community gathered.

On the blanket in Dolores Park

After we left Dolores Park, Tommy, one of clergy invited me to join him in Aunt Charlies Lounge, one of the Drag clubs, to meet some of the Drag Queens he knows, and has ministered to (and with!). These ladies are part of the Grand Ducal Court of San Francisco, and I had the opportunity to chat briefly with a view of them, and met the reigning Grand Duchess, Paloma Volare.

These ladies obviously knew Tommy well, and had respect for him, and it was mutual.  They greeted each other with affection, and I learned of how these ladies worked extremely hard to raise funds for charity.  What was incredible to see was how his church and these ladies worked so well together, for the benefit of the local community.

They had raised most of the funds for his church to run their food pantry for a year, providing food to people in need.  However, he and his congregation had also helped raise funds for their charity concerns, which include AIDS charities, food charities, cancer charities, a community centre, and a nighttime ministry.  The Grand Ducal Court of San Francisco, of which these ladies are a part, raises around $50,000 annually for these charity concerns.  Tommy had helped them with that, and they share a concern for the local community, and are ministering together.  Tommy's church had included them in other ways, by offering ministry to them when they lost a dear friend, and by welcoming them into congregation functions, sometimes in drag, where they were celebrated and allowed to use their gifts.

This is another example of how much further inclusivity should go than merely stating that LGBT people are welcome.  This morning's church service I attended and these examples of inclusive church active in the community are examples of being truly inclusive, where people's diversity is celebrated, and the beauty and the gifts that they bring are encouraged and used for the benefit of the community around them.

Some photos of some of the ladies of the Grand Ducal Council of San Francisco

I'm not for one minute suggesting that there aren't other forms of inclusivity, or that these are the best expressions of an inclusive church at worship and in the community ... after all, it's a big world out there.  I'm speaking from my perspective and experiences, and obviously mentioning my impressions of what I've seen and how it's impacted on me.

What struck me was how much good can be done in the community and for the kingdom, when people are included as they are, affirmed as they are, and encouraged and enabled to use their gifts, without having to feel shame, without feeling that they can't let people see who they really are.

This is a very good example of what the inclusive church looks like in the community.

What does an inclusive church service look like?

On Sunday, 7 July, I experienced several different forms of inclusive church.  This post will focus only on the first part ... the church service I attended.

I started the day at St Gregory of Nyssa, San Francisco, a community that actively advertises itself as inclusive of the LGBT community, reaches out to poor people (amongst other things, they run a food pantry where tons of groceries are shared out every week, and where those who come to get food items are as welcome in worship as they are for the food pantry!), and where people on the fringes in other parts of the Church are celebrated and included, not just in being welcome, but have the opportunity to use their gifts in positions of leadership.  The worship space is in two sections, one section they use for the service of the Word (the readings, prayers & sermons), and the second section for the sacraments (the communion, or Eucharistic prayer).

The service involves lots of congregational singing, without instruments, and elements of the worship service are brought in from around the globe, with music bells and chants from other countries, and references to other cultures in items scattered around the church and also used in worship.  The congregation sing most of the liturgy, and are encouraged to interact in other ways (such as touching the Scripture which is processed through the congregation after the readings, sharing their own understandings of the topic for the week with each other after the sermon has been preached, and offering up their prayers).

After the Word part of the service, the congregation sings and dances together to the altar, and gather around the central altar, and are surrounded by paintings of contemporary and traditional saints ... giving a sense of everyone being gathered together.  The communion prayer includes more congregational singing, led by the choir, and the congregation are all invited to receive bread and wine, and to share it with each other.

I think that St. Gregory's own website can perhaps explain it in better detail than I have ... this is mixed in with my impressions.  You can see more here.

Obviously, because of my context, what impressed me, was how LGBT folk are publicly encouraged to come and join in the community (even their business cards make mention of it - see below!), rather than the whole 'cloak and dagger' approach in the UK, which is too often the case.  In the UK, there are LGBT inclusive churches, but in many cases an inclusive member of the clergy is not backed up by an inclusive congregation, or vice versa.  So many LGBT folk may find a clergy person who is inclusive, but they can't be seen to be LGBT by the rest of the congregation, and so are able to attend ... but not able to be themselves.

A montage of the front and back of two of St Gregory of Nyssa's business cards

The other thing that impressed me is that there is no secret made of who is LGBT in the congregation ... they are able to mention their same sex husbands or wives in the prayers, ministry is offered to their whole families, and they are able to be in positions of leadership, and to use their gifts and passions to serve the church.  The other thing that I should make mention of is the fact that this was a congregation like any other - people were celebrating wedding anniversaries, praying for sick or dying loved ones, giving thanks for the blessings they'd received, they sought to apply the Scriptures to their lives, and shared bread together. They work for the good of the local community and are involved in the wider church.  There is nothing there that validates the unfounded fear that allowing LGBT people into the church will turn church into a singles club, or a dysfunctional camp bitch-fest (too late for that, many would say, the straight clergy already do that!), or somehow make it a less Godly place.

This is truly affirming and inclusive.  This is what the Church SHOULD look like. People should be able to attend, as themselves.  People should be able to bring their whole lives into the worshipping community, and they should be able to offer their time, talents and gifts for the Kingdom.

This is a far cry from being allowed to attend ... quietly ... without standing out.  A far cry from having to sit next to your partner, with no sign of affection between you, of pretending to be somebody else, so that people don't make you feel like a novelty or like an inferior Christian, because you're not able to overcome this modern 'affliction' of homosexuality.  People should be encouraged, affirmed, blessed & encouraged to belong as WHOLE people, so that they can better be who they were created to be.  We can't force beautifully created people into boxes that more easily fit our moulds.

This is what inclusive church looks like ... and it's utterly normal, and perfectly fabulous.

Here's a few pictures from the day ...

Where the service of the Word takes place. 

The octagonal space in which communion is celebrated.

A montage of some of the wall panels.

Pause a moment in the Pink Triangle Park ...

If you're in the Castro, in San Francisco, take a moment to pause in the Pink Triangle Memorial Park.

It may not be large, or groomed, and sits right next to a busy road, and many seem not to be aware of it as they focus their attention on the bars, restaurants, cafés and stores, but it's a good reminder of how far we have come and how far we have yet to go in the pursuit of freedom and equality for LGBT people.

I don't think I could say it better than the Pink Triangle Park's own website, so - with apologies - I'll just paste the text from their website:

This is a civil rights park.
The 15 granite pylons rise before you in remembrance of the estimate 15,000 gays, lesbians, bisexuals and transgenders who were persecuted imprisoned and killed during and after the Nazi regime. 

Throughout history, there are times when prejudice overwhelms all reason and humanity. Such was the case under the Nazis. But even after the Nazis' defeat, the discrimination against the LGBT community continued, using Paragraph 175 of the penal code. Briefly freed from concentration camps by Allied troops, those prisoners wearing the pink triangle were returned to finish their sentences. Those who survived two imprisonments emerged as second-class citizens even under democratically elected governments.

Pink Triangle Park and Memorial is a place of remembrance, reflection and education - a physical reminder of how persecution of any individual or single group of people inevitably damages all humanity.

Here are a few photos from my visit earlier this evening.

San Fran, a city on the edge ...

Before arriving in San Francisco, I was a bit concerned that living here for a month would leave me a little bit like a fish out of water, as it's very different to visiting a place, to immerse yourself in the culture.  But I've had a lovely time, and all being told, it seems to be a city that's used to embracing strangers.

I suppose the city has a history of embracing people who had fled as far away from government authority as they could, and San Fran is as far West as they could get, without actually donning some swimming trunks.  The city has a history of picking people up, welcoming them, and including them.

Most people here are friendly, which is interesting to a cynic like me. I was originally worried that I would find people's enthusiasm and friendliness a bit much, and didn't want to be a killjoy, but that hasn't been the case, either.  It's felt perfectly natural to be responding to people's friendliness and warmth with the same.

The city's attitude to inclusion is astounding, and you can see elements of it everywhere ... in the 'LGBT Safe Zone' poster in the Mission SFPD station window, to the 'End the hate' posters in people's windows, the rainbow flags displayed in all sorts of public establishments, big brand stores and private residences, and the "Equality for all" messages displayed on the LED screens on the outside of Muni buses.  It seems to be a city that acknowledges all citizens as equals, with rights and as part of the community.

It seems even the resident's attitude to the homeless is friendly, and reciprocal. Time and again, when I've not had any change to give to a homeless person, this is met by a courteous, "Thank you, and God bless you."  The only aggression I've seen so far is in arguments between homeless people on the street, which have appeared to be alcohol-fuelled (or some other substance).

I know there is a hard edge to the city ... the degree of homelessness, the drug culture and the strong odour in certain parts gives testimony to that.  But, there's a hard edge to just about every city.  But it feels like what San Fran is doing right, is it's regard for all it's citizens, even those who would fall through the cracks, and in many cases, have already fallen through the cracks.  The challenge in what I have seen is that being friendly and welcoming, although so much better than in other cities, still leaves room for improvement.  True inclusion should extend to affirming the humanity in each person, and in giving them the opportunities for self-improvement, so that they can regain and retain a sense of pride in themselves.  This may be very well be happening, and I wouldn't want to offend anyone by suggesting that it isn't ... it's merely an observation.  I wouldn't want it to detract from the fact that I've been blown away by the level of inclusion in this city that is on the edge in more ways than one ... On the edge of the USA, on the edge of social thinking, on the edge of current policy, on the edge of both poverty and wealth, and more.

I've already made mention here of how the Church here has blown me away in terms of how active they are in seeking inclusion, and can certainly give churches in the UK a run for their money. In particular, my observations refer to the Episcopalian Church, and I've seen how they don't just operate an open-doors policy here, but they actively go out to recruit from minority groups, and then include and affirm them. The local Bishop has also been quite instrumental in fighting to get the government to repeal DOMA and to bring back Equal Marriage.  So, it was quite something to march in Pride with a group of Episcopalians who could genuinely show Pride in their ministry, themselves, and their LGBT brothers & sisters.  In my visit so far, I've visited Grace Cathedral (which there's more about in previous posts ... here, and - in particular, my impressions about their current art installation - here) and St. Gregory of Nyssa, both a vibrant ministry to the whole community, including the homeless, the LGBT community, and others (St Gregory's even hosts a weekly food pantry, which offers fresh produce and groceries to over 1,000 families). Grace Cathedral have released a public statement, rejoicing in the decision to allow Equal Marriage in California, and inviting couples to book their same-sex marriages in the Cathedral.  These are good examples of how church should defend the minorities, support equality, be a voice for the voiceless, and affirm the humanity of all!

I should add that there have been other churches ... The Sierra Pacific Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America shared in our Eucharist at Pride and have a very important ministry around issues of social justice & minority groups. There was even a group of Catholic worshippers, marching in support of Equal Marriage (although, sadly, by all accounts, this does not extend to their senior clergy or diocese, which seems to be quite active in opposing equal marriage ... here and here ).  However, it seems the call for Marriage Equality amongst Catholic worshippers is growing, and hopefully their leadership heed it sooner or later!)

I hope to attend worship at St Gregory's this Sunday, and may even stop by afterwards at a Bring & Share picnic in Dolores Park.  I've even spotted that there's an open photo shoot for the NOH8 campaign next weekend, which I'll go to and try and join in!

That's about as much as I can manage in terms of an update today.  San Francisco is turning out to be quite an exciting city to get to grips with ministry and inclusivity ... what felt like a long month in the city is rapidly turning out to be a rather short space of time to fit everything in.  I'll just have to visit regularly. ;)

Reflections on "Graced with light" by Anne Patterson, in Grace Cathedral, SFO

I've already reflected on my experience of a service at Grace Cathedral, and a little bit about the art installation they have there at the moment.  You can see that here.

Yesterday, I went back to Grace Cathedral, to see the finished artwork. Art is interesting ... hubby will tell you I'm not much of an art connoisseur (euphemism is strong in that statement). With me, all art falls into one of only two categories; Art I like, and art I dislike.

When Mike & I go to galleries, we have to agree to divide and conquer, and we meet up in the café at the end, as we proceed at very different paces. Mike likes to admire, digest, study, understand and remember the art ... he can often instinctively tell who an artist's influences were, what techniques they're using, and whether they were ground-breaking in their techniques, style or subject. I, on the other hand, only know if I like it or not. If I like it, I'll go over and admire it ... occasionally, I may even study it.  If, however, I don't like a piece, I'll move immediately on.  I can't spend time looking at something I don't like, regardless of who it's by, how important it is as a piece, or how much it's worth.

I wouldn't dream of rushing anybody through a gallery or museum at my pace, so Mike gives me the freedom to rush through, and I give him the freedom to take his time.  If either of us sees a piece we want to show the other one, we'll go back and find the other.  Often, I enjoy the galleries themselves more than the art they contain, and I'll spend time watching the flow of people, looking at the architecture and the lighting.  Occasionally, because I'm fascinated by security (thanks to my Dad's former career), I'll study the security measures in place, and see if I can find any improvements that can be made.

______________________________________________________

Anyway ... that's all a massive aside.  Getting back to art I like vs. art I dislike. Art, like liturgy, speaks in different ways to different people, and what the artist intended isn't necessarily what the viewer perceives.

'Graced with light', by Anne Patterson, spoke to me in many ways. I don't know if any of them are as she intended, but I offer my impressions of it as a piece.  In short, I loved it. I spent hours studying it, photographing it from different angles (I even tried a little video with sound, but couldn't figure out that function on instagram). I've been to study it twice now, and will probably visit it again before I leave.

One of the reasons I love it is because it's made up of so many thousands of individual strands, which speak to me of community, of the strength of the whole being made up of it's individual parts, rather than about a single piece of art.  This is even more the case, because the community has been involved in putting the piece together, in helping to cut and hang each piece of ribbon.  All of this speaks about the value of each individual in the community, rather than the value of the artwork.

Looking up at the individual ribbons making up the completed piece.

Another reason I love it, is because it contains a range of different colours, mixed together.  There is no segregation, no separation into order, no attempt at conformity.  This speaks to me about the beauty that diversity brings to the whole. It speaks to me of the value of diversity, inclusivity & affirmation, and how the community is richer and more beautiful for it.  The fact that the ribbons are constantly fluttering with the airflow around them speaks to me about the freedom of each individual (ribbon) to be and having the freedom to move.

The third reason the installation particularly spoke to me, was the title "Graced with light," combined with the light shining on the ribbons from above.  This highlighted their differences and their beauty, rather than attempting to hide it in a dim space.  This particularly spoke to me of the value of celebrating differences and diversity, rather than hiding them, or expecting them to conform.  In particular, one phrase that entered my mind was, "If you see the world in terms of black and white, you need to step into the light".

I love it as a piece, and as a community project. I love what it says to me, and I love that it's backed up by what we experienced when we attended the Sunday service.

This is, however, just a blog post, and I encourage you to go and see the real thing while it's up.  It may not speak to you in the same way as it spoke to me ... there's much here that is about my personal journey.  But it is very much worth seeing.

To close, two montages of images I collected during the day.

It's the little things ...

I stumbled across this sign yesterday, in the window of a local police station ...

Like many other things in San Francisco, it made more of an impression than I thought. It struck me that it's a very small thing ... I little laminated sign in a window ... but it adds to lots more small things that make a big impression.

This is a city that, through hardship, has had to recognise that all people are equal, and that all need to be affirmed and included.  Deeper than that, all need to be VALUED and PROTECTED.  Many of our civil services, institutions and authorities now state (because the law requires them to), that they will accept LGBT  people.

However, acceptance is quite passive, and implies that there's something to accept, because you wouldn't ordinarily be acceptable.  You accept change, you accept hardship, you accept that occasionally you may have to put up with people you don't like.  Acceptance does not say, "I value you," or "I celebrate you," or "I  love you." It says, "I'm willing to put up with you."

It's an entirely different thing to recognise LGBT people, not as people who won't go away, but as valuable members of your community, with gifts and talents to bring, that are - not just welcome - but NECESSARY.  To send out a message that says, "You are OUR people, we love you and we need you."

This is not about worrying about people flaunting their identity in your face, or worrying that they will appear too 'Gay' (or Bi or Trans or whatever), or that they will have questionable morals. This is not about any of that.  This is about people having the freedom to be themselves without fear, about people feeling valued as valuable members of society, about people being respected members of society, about people being able to love and live, about BEING.

True inclusivity is not just acceptance.  We need to go further than 'allowing' LGBT people into our communities and our churches.  We need to go looking for them, we need to invite them in, we need to celebrate them, we need to use their gifts and their talents, and protect them as our own.  That is inclusivity.

And, by the way, this would be the same for any institution ... I'm not picking on the Church ... merely mentioning it, because that is my context.

San Francisco Pride - a day to feel proud!

Today, I had the pleasure of marching in the 43rd San Francisco Pride with the contingent from the Episcopalian Diocese of California.  I had been both looking forward to-, and dreading the day, in equal measure.

I have shared before that it's been a long time since I felt proud to be an Anglican ... the last time was probably as a teenager in South Africa, when I first became politically aware of the injustice of Apartheid, and saw the Anglican Church fighting against Apartheid, and also electing Archbishop Desmond Tutu as it's leader.  Then, the Anglican Church I worshipped in, spoke out for minority groups, supported them, defended them and fought for their full inclusion and for their lives.

I can't remember feeling that same sense of lasting pride since then, and have often reflected that I feel shame about being an Anglican, and about affiliating with and serving an institution which has become so synonymous with the exclusion of the LGBT community in the UK, that it's difficult for the inclusive voices inside the organisation to make themselves heard, because people have stopped listening.

We all approach every situation in life with our previous experiences that have shaped and influenced us, and these guide our emotions.  And so, I rejoiced at having the opportunity to march today, but was nervous about over-identifying with a denomination I've become wary of, regarding it's dealings with the LGBT community.  I could not have been more wrong in this case, and in many ways, today I began to feel a certain pride at being an Anglican again.  I was welcomed into the group, met some folk and was generously given a pair of rainbow wings by a member of the clergy, which added some much-needed to colour to my plain black clergy outfit. ;)  I also met Diana Wheeler, of Oasis (the LGBT Ministry of the Diocese of California) and Sister Eden Asp, of the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence.

My wings :)

Me with Diana Wheeler & Sister Eden Asp

The day started with an open-air Eucharist (Mass) in Beale Street, in front of the Greyhound station.  When the Right Revd. Marc Andrus opened the service, he welcomed all to the day, and shared that he had chosen to wear a red stole (liturgical scarf), rather than white (for celebrations), because he was mindful of the martyrs that had gone ahead of us in the fight for equality & justice.  He then reminded us that, although equal marriage had come back to California, there was still much to be done in the fight for equality and freedom for all, and called us to join him in committing to marriage equality, to commit to voter rights, to commit to equality for minority groups in other nations and to commit to the planet and to tackling climate change.  Very poignant, relevant, right and refreshing words.

We all joined together in singing All Are Welcome (by Marty Haugen), which caused a few to wander over and join in for the rest of the service.  After the readings, The Right Revd. Mark Holmerud, Bishop of the Sierra Pacific Synod of the Evangelical Lutheran Church in America, preached about how marriage equality was long overdue, and offered his thanks for those who helped with the struggle.  He reflected on the theme of this year's pride being, "Embrace, Encourage, Empower" and offered three other words; "Comfort, Control & Commitment".  He mentioned that equal marriage opponents were no longer comfortable, wanted to regain control and were committed to removing equal marriage again, but that it was our calling to help them understand that they haven't lost anything, when everyone has gained so much.  He finished by calling us to go out to love, to encourage, empower and embrace.

The service continued with the prayers, the peace, and the breaking and sharing of bread & wine, and finished with the words of the blessing:

Live without fear; your Creator has made you holy,
has always protected you, and loves you as a mother.
Go in peace to follow the good road and may God's blessing in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Spirit be with you always.
Amen"

The beginning of the Pride Mass 

Bishop Marc Andrus during the Eucharistic prayer

After the service, we prepared for the march (a little prematurely, as it was around a 4-hour wait after the service, before we got to start moving in the parade), but it presented the opportunity to meet more people, find out their stories and share mine, swap contact details and make final adjustments to the bus.  In the end, the wait was that long, that the heat began popping the balloons on the coach.  But, amazingly, people stuck it out.

I managed to chat to Bishop Marc Andrus and his wife, Sheila, about their ministry to the LGBT community, and their role in the fight to help bring Marriage Equality back to California.  It was both humbling and encouraging to meet church leaders that were that committed to the full inclusion of the LGBT community that they not only opened church doors, but actively fought for their equality & inclusion.

Me with Bishop Marc Andrus and Revd. Thomas Jackson 

The Front of the bus

When we did finally get to march, it was all over in a bit of a rush, but people were fantastic. The emotions we saw on people's faces as we marched in front of them ranged from surprise, to elation, to amusement. We were cheered, applauded, waved at and asked questions about the Diocese of California's commitment to perform marriages for Same-sex couples.  Several people asked me if I would marry them, but I had to confess that I was only visiting briefly, but that I'd love to come back if they invited me to attend.  Some people in the crowd pointed to a cross they were wearing or a T-shirt with a slogan about God, and applauded us, and the impression I got was that they were rejoicing that finally they, too, could bring their faith to the table and share that with their other LGBT friends, and didn't have to separate their faith identity & their sexual identity in front of us.

Again, I think today made more of an impact on me than I thought it would, and will stick with me for years. The powerful witness and potential of an inclusive church should not be undermined.  I suppose the challenge to the people out there is, when they find an inclusive church, attend it, and support it, because without that, they struggle to survive ... the churches that exclude the LGBT community are often very well funded and attended, but we need to be supporting the much smaller inclusive congregations, to get them to grow, and flourish, and witness about an inclusive faith.

A couple of things stood out for me today ...

• In my conversation with Bishop Marc Andrus, we reflected on the state of affairs in the Church of England, and I mentioned that one of the big differences, was that the Church of England was sometimes ACCEPTING of the LGBT community, but that that did not mean the same thing as WELCOMING them. And Bishop Marc went even further and said that there's a big difference between WELCOMING and INVITING.  Inclusive churches can be found in the UK, but the Church of England seems to lack voices that are actually going out to the LGBT community and inviting them in, and welcoming them, and affirming them, and allowing them to bring their gifts and identities into our worshipping communities.
  
  There is such a massive difference between accepting (a very passive thing), and actively inviting and welcoming, that I could write pages.
  
  If people are invited, welcomed, affirmed and included - as themselves - they are encouraged to bring their gifts, they are energised, they are empowered, they are transformed, they bring their gifts to the table, and the community around them is enriched & grows.
  
  If they're merely accepted, they *may* walk through the church doors, but they will keep their private lives and their identities hidden from those around them, and - as a result - they can never be full members, because they are not allowed to be full.
• The second thing that really struck me, was when we marched by the Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence, and they thanked the bishop and the clergy for working so hard for the LGBT community. That really brought a tear to my eye, and made me proud - for today - to call myself an Episcopalian.

Full-colour Pride

I'm trying to reflect on my first day at Pride, and finding it quite difficult.  I was quite emotional this morning, while walking around the Civic Centre in San Francisco, and I'm not sure why.  It's not like I haven't faced all of my own demons, and come to terms with who I am. I am comfortable in my sexuality, my faith, and my identity.

Still ... it was that positive an experience, being surrounded by literally every outfit, shape, colour, size, height, gender, sexual orientation or gender expression, where everyone was comfortable, interacting positively and affirming of each other ... that I found myself close to tears a few times.  The rest of the time, I was wandering around with a grin on my face.

I saw Trans people, drag kings and queens, people wearing nothing, some guy wearing a single gold sock (not on his feet), goths, families with kids (dressed in rainbow colours), people in tutus, people with body painting, people wearing masks, people holding hands, dancing together, commercial sponsors affirming their customer base (no doubt for financial impact, but still positive and more than many commercial enterprises do), religious groups interacting in a positive and affirming way, and equal rights campaigners.

I'm guessing that some of my more conservative Christian counterparts may struggle to be exposed to someone wearing a gold sock, or even see the naturism stall, but none of it came across as sordid.  It wasn't about sex ... it was about variety, about expression, about identity and about acceptance.

Again, it seems to be highlighting to me how important it is that we not try to force people to separate their personal identity from their working or worshipping lives.  That fragments people and causes wounding and stress.  When we allow them to be whole in every sphere, they flourish, and as a result - our communities and our faith communities can flourish, too.

I reflected with Paul, an Episcopalian priest, the other day, that for many years of my life, I approached prayer and my relationship with God as an imperfect straight man with something to be ashamed of and to hide.  When I decided to change that, and approach God as a gay man, thankful for the gift of my sexuality, and learned to relate to God as a gay man, it was a profound moment of watershed in my life, and a real marker in my own healing process.

If we allow people to come to worship as themselves ... with their partners, their whole lives, then they can truly be who they were created to be!

And I haven't even moved on to the afternoon in Mission Dolores Park yet ...

The gathering at Mission Dolores was a warm-up for the San Francisco Dyke March towards the Castro.  It ran all day, with the march beginning around 6pm.  I got there at around 3.30pm and the first thing that struck me at Mission Dolores, was the large number of people ... I think estimating in excess of 30,000 would not be far off the mark (although my counting ability is impeded by a lack of attention span ... 1,2,3,4,5,10 ... lots!).

Again, there were people of every shape, colour, size, gender, gender identity, gender preference, sexual orientation, culture and race.  They came on foot, on crutches, in wheelchairs, on mobility scooters, skateboards, stilts, inline skates (and electric bicycles!). The noise was incredible, but everybody was happy.  People were picnicking, catching up with friends, sitting with families, making new friends, buying food, dancing, raising awareness of campaigns & community groups.  It was called a Dyke march, but it was equally well supported by gay and straight men, straight women and trans men & women.  Again, people were wearing (or not wearing) all sorts, but the focus seemed to be on celebrating being together as a community.

The celebrations seemed heavily influenced by the recent ruling on Equal Marriage in California, and people were happy to gather together and rejoice that they had a future.  That's almost too heavy a concept to type quickly ... how different the atmosphere would've been if the ruling had been different.

Again, I was struck by the sense of joy, affirmation and community. It seemed that even the homeless were enjoying the event.

I waited to see the beginning of the march, and then - having spent the day surrounded by SEVERAL thousand people - needed to retreat to a coffee shop for some quiet time to reflect.  I keep coming back to that thought that it is so very important to allow people to bring their whole selves to every part of their lives, so that they can experience every part as a whole, and give themselves as a whole to every part, and be WHOLLY human.  It is deeply wrong for any faith community to adopt the attitude where they force people to leave their private lives behind closed doors, and attend services quietly, without people knowing who they really are, lest it offends a few.  So very deeply wrong.

Here's a few pics from today ...

He was giving away free hugs.

People as far as the eye can see

Drumming group leading the parade onto the streets

The start of the parade towards the Castro

Grace in Grace cathedral

Mike and I went to the 11.00 service at Grace cathedral on Sunday, 23 June.

The cathedral, a replica of Notre Dame, currently has thousands of 84 foot lengths of ribbon suspended from the ceiling, which have been prepared by the local community, and present a visual image of inclusivity and equality. The ribbons will have shades of red added this week, expanding even more on this theme, as all the colours of the rainbow hang from the rafters, in time for Pride weekend.

This equality is further represented in the congregation, which included a range of shapes, incomes, colours and sizes, and also a number of same-sex couples, which both felt and looked perfectly natural. The importance of this cannot be underestimated, as it meant that we didn't feel out of place, or that we had to pretend we were friends in case it offended somebody. We could attend a service together, like any other couple, we could worship together, hold hands and receive communion together, and this was just a normal thing. We had the freedom to be a "couple that pray together"!

The sermon was given by Revd Winnie Varghese, and made reference to equality and equal marriage.  It felt both perfectly natural and totally right to be hearing about Equality for all human beings in a church setting, and it struck me how wrong the Church (with a capital 'C') has got it, when it's only in a small number of communities and congregations that all people are welcomed, included, affirmed and blessed.

It's such a small thing, but it made a big impact on us to be able to feel at home, not as two individuals, but as a couple, together ... even moreso because it was the first anniversary of our Civil Partnership registration.

With thanks to the Very Revd. Dr. Jane Shaw for her and the cathedral's hospitality, and to Revd. Winnie Varghese for an inclusive sermon.

Barriers to the LGBT community are SLOWLY breaking down ...

As I write this, I'm on the eve of preparing to fly out to San Francisco for my ministry sabbatical.  While there, I'm hoping to link up with various community groups and church groups that practise inclusive ministry and welcome the LGBT community into their midst, their leadership and their hearts, without placing conditions of change or conformity on them.

I'm mostly finished with packing ... the next stage is panicking.  However, I was alerted to an article by a fellow tweeter (Thanks Rachel!) about a public apology from the President of Exodus international, an international evangelical ministry focusing on reparative therapy for gay people, to the LGBT community and an announcement that Exodus International was to be closing it's doors.

This is big news for me personally, as for two years in the late 1990's, I submitted myself to a programme of 'therapy' in Port Elizabeth, South Africa, that was run using their materials.  I don't think it was organised with their approval, but it was someone who had been on their courses, and was given the opportunity to come over to South Africa and run them himself.

I suspect that the courses, if run properly, should be run by a team of well-trained people, as they attempt to dig very deep into your psyche, and alter your very sense of being.  In hindsight, it's clear how dodgy such a procedure is, but when you're a young Christian coming to terms with being gay, you're desperate to fit in with the rest of your faith community, and you're led to believe that being gay is purely about lust and that to identify in any sense with being gay is sinful and excludes you from salvation.

This is largely the premise of the course material we were subjected to, and we were led to believe that our identity as gay people was purely based on eroticised expressions of deep-seated need for male bonding, and that - with time - we would be able to unlearn being gay, and relearn how to be straight and 'bond' with other men.  We were told that any identity we felt we had as gay people was incorrect and that we should unlearn any ways in which we identified with being gay, and should teach ourselves how to be straight and do straight things.  We were told that anytime we felt a longing for a life partner or intimacy, it was wrong, and that we had to instead learn how to identify with straight men by playing football, going to the pub, etc..

The reality of all of this is that, because being gay is a matter of identity and not just erotic expression, you begin to feel 'wrong' at your core, and - in trying to be one of the 'lads' - fail miserably, and feel hopelessly inadequate, because you'll never be able to identify as one of them.  Generally speaking, straight lads are different to gay lads, have different interests, and don't feel threatened by each other, in case they discover that you're gay.  So, you spend your time feeling like a failure, feeling unlovable to God, feeling scared of being discovered, and feeling hopelessly inadequate as a Christian, because you can't change, when the organiser of the course tells you that change is possible.

This is why this apology by the President of Exodus International, the largest "ex-gay therapy" group is such a big deal for me personally.  It feels like another step closer toward the healing I've been claiming back for myself since I left the course all those years ago and went through a crisis of identity and a crisis of faith.

It's also a big deal, because many evangelical and fundamental faith groups globally base their dealings with the LGBT community on the teachings of Exodus International and other similar organisations ... that gay people need to seek 'healing', in order to be faithful, and that they can accept the LGBT community, but only on condition that they seek change and not seek to give in to what they see as sinful desires, rather than a true identity.

With this apology, the wind is beginning to drain out of the sails of that argument, and some real dialogue can begin.  I know for hundreds of thousands of LGBT people this will be too little too late from the faith community, but with any luck, it'll stop future generations from being put through life-threatening 'therapy' that attempts to change their identities and personalities.

I can't really answer why I stuck with my faith after all of that ... perhaps it's the desire to make a difference in the lives of those who come after me.  I've had many young people asking me over the years where they can go to join a faith community that won't try to change them, out them, or make them feel like freaks.  Sometimes that's easy to answer, and sometimes it's not.  It can be incredibly geographical, and I always have to warn them to be careful, as an inclusive leader does not always mean an inclusive congregation or vice versa, so their guard is always up. But at least it's beginning to look like change may be possible at a greater level, rather than having little pockets of inclusivity.
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You can read the text of Alan Chambers' apology here (it's a direct cut-and-paste from the Exodus International page here - I'm merely pasting it in, as their page is quite slow at the moment.)

Three years ago, Leslie and I began a very public conversation with Our America’s Lisa Ling, from the Oprah Winfrey Network (OWN) regarding some of our deeply held beliefs about Christianity and the LGBT community.  Today, we have decided to carry this public conversation even further. While this conversation has and may well continue to be met with many different responses from supporters and critics, it is our desire to keep having these honest discussions in the hopes of arriving to a place of peace.

Several months ago, this conversation led me to call Lisa Ling to take another step on this messy journey.  I asked if she would, once again, help us add to the unfolding story by covering my apology to the people who have been hurt by Exodus International.  Our ministry has been public and therefore any acknowledgement of wrong must also be public.  I haven’t always been the leader of Exodus, but I am now and someone must finally own and acknowledge the hurt of others. I do so anxiously, but willingly.

It is strange to be someone who has both been hurt by the church’s treatment of the LGBT community, and also to be someone who must apologize for being part of the very system of ignorance that perpetuated that hurt. Today it is as if I’ve just woken up to a greater sense of how painful it is to be a sinner in the hands of an angry church. 

It is also strange to be an outcast from powerful portions of both the gay community and the Christian community.  Because I do not completely agree with the vocalmajorities in either group and am forging a new place of peaceful service in and through both, I will likely continue to be an outsider to some degree. I imagine it to be very much like a man I recently heard speak at a conference I attended, Father Elias Chacour, the Melkite Catholic Archbishop of Israel. He is an Arab Christian, Palestinian by birth, and a citizen of Israel. Talk about a walking contradiction.  When I think of the tension of my situation I am comforted by the thought of him and his. 

My desire is to completely align with Christ, his Good News for all and his offer of peace amidst the storms of life. My wife Leslie and my beliefs center around grace, the finished work of Christ on the cross and his offer of eternal relationship to any and all that believe. Our beliefs do not center on “sin” because “sin” isn’t at the center of our faith. Our journey hasn’t been about denying the power of Christ to do anything – obviously he is God and can do anything. 

With that, here is an expanded version of the apology I offered during my recent interview with Lisa Ling to the people within the LGBTQ community who have been hurt by the Church, Exodus International, and me.  I realize some within the communities for which I apologize will say I don’t have the right, as one man, to do so on their behalf.  But if the Church is a body, with many members being connected to the whole, then I believe that what one of us does right we all do right, and what one of us does wrong we all do wrong. We have done wrong, and I stand with many others who now recognize the need to offer apologies and make things right.  I believe this apology – however imperfect – is what God the Father would have me do.

To Members of the LGBTQ Community: 

In 1993 I caused a four-car pileup.  In a hurry to get to a friend’s house, I was driving when a bee started buzzing around the inside of my windshield. I hit the bee and it fell on the dashboard. A minute later it started buzzing again with a fury. Trying to swat it again I completely missed the fact that a city bus had stopped three cars in front of me.  I also missed that those three cars were stopping, as well.  Going 40 miles an hour I slammed into the car in front of me causing a chain reaction. I was injured and so were several others.  I never intended for the accident to happen. I would never have knowingly hurt anyone. But I did. And it was my fault. In my rush to get to my destination, fear of being stung by a silly bee, and selfish distraction, I injured others. 

I have no idea if any of the people injured in that accident have suffered long term effects. While I did not mean to hurt them, I did. The fact that my heart wasn’t malicious did not lessen their pain or their suffering. I am very sorry that I chose to be distracted that fall afternoon, and that I caused so much damage to people and property.  If I could take it all back I absolutely would. But I cannot. I pray that everyone involved in the crash has been restored to health. 

Recently, I have begun thinking again about how to apologize to the people that have been hurt by Exodus International through an experience or by a message. I have heard many firsthand stories from people called ex-gay survivors. Stories of people who went to Exodus affiliated ministries or ministers for help only to experience more trauma. I have heard stories of shame, sexual misconduct, and false hope. In every case that has been brought to my attention, there has been swift action resulting in the removal of these leaders and/or their organizations. But rarely was there an apology or a public acknowledgement by me. 

And then there is the trauma that I have caused. There were several years that I conveniently omitted my ongoing same-sex attractions. I was afraid to share them as readily and easily as I do today. They brought me tremendous shame and I hid them in the hopes they would go away. Looking back, it seems so odd that I thought I could do something to make them stop. Today, however, I accept these feelings as parts of my life that will likely always be there. The days of feeling shame over being human in that way are long over, and I feel free simply accepting myself as my wife and family does. As my friends do. As God does. 

Never in a million years would I intentionally hurt another person. Yet, here I sit having hurt so many by failing to acknowledge the pain some affiliated with Exodus International caused, and by failing to share the whole truth about my own story. My good intentions matter very little and fail to diminish the pain and hurt others have experienced on my watch. The good that we have done at Exodus is overshadowed by all of this. 

Friends and critics alike have said it’s not enough to simply change our message or website. I agree. I cannot simply move on and pretend that I have always been the friend that I long to be today. I understand why I am distrusted and why Exodus is hated. Please know that I am deeply sorry. I am sorry for the pain and hurt many of you have experienced. I am sorry that some of you spent years working through the shame and guilt you felt when your attractions didn’t change. I am sorry we promoted sexual orientation change efforts and reparative theories about sexual orientation that stigmatized parents. 

I am sorry that there were times I didn’t stand up to people publicly “on my side” who called you names like sodomite—or worse. I am sorry that I, knowing some of you so well, failed to share publicly that the gay and lesbian people I know were every bit as capable of being amazing parents as the straight people that I know. I am sorry that when I celebrated a person coming to Christ and surrendering their sexuality to Him that I callously celebrated the end of relationships that broke your heart. I am sorry that I have communicated that you and your families are less than me and mine. 

More than anything, I am sorry that so many have interpreted this religious rejection by Christians as God’s rejection.  I am profoundly sorry that many have walked away from their faith and that some have chosen to end their lives. For the rest of my life I will proclaim nothing but the whole truth of the Gospel, one of grace, mercy and open invitation to all to enter into an inseverable relationship with almighty God. 

I cannot apologize for my deeply held biblical beliefs about the boundaries I see in scripture surrounding sex, but I will exercise my beliefs with great care and respect for those who do not share them.  I cannot apologize for my beliefs about marriage. But I do not have any desire to fight you on your beliefs or the rights that you seek. My beliefs about these things will never again interfere with God’s command to love my neighbor as I love myself. 

You have never been my enemy. I am very sorry that I have been yours. I hope the changes in my own life, as well as the ones we announce tonight regarding Exodus International, will bring resolution, and show that I am serious in both my regret and my offer of friendship. I pledge that future endeavors will be focused on peace and common good. 

Moving forward, we will serve in our pluralistic culture by hosting thoughtful and safe conversations about gender and sexuality, while partnering with others to reduce fear, inspire hope, and cultivate human flourishing.

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Combined with the public call for inclusivity by Steve Chalke, founder of Oasis UK, an evangelical Christian ministry, and author and broadcaster, which you can read here, this is turning out to be quite a year for evangelical Christians, who - aside from the Roman Catholic Church's leadership (I say leadership, as the view in the pew is often different) - are the main opponents to greater inclusion and equality for the LGBT community.