Thoughts on Queer Spirituality

This post was submitted by frequent commenter Greg.
Especially during election years (and in Washington, when the hell isn't it an election year), we're always at the mercy of religious rhetoric. Whether it's the fundamentalist Christians' attempts to dictate public policy or Democrats pandering to and/or hoping to reclaim the "faith vote," it's hard not to see religion popping up in media reports and conversations around the city and the nation.

All-too-often that leaves queer folks out in the cold, through choice or exile (or, often, some combination of both). As a queer, it's one of my greatest heartbreaks that LGBTQI (whatever) people have been dispossessed of a rich and powerful spiritual heritage — one where we were often the edge-walkers, shape-shifters, and spiritual hearts of our communities around the world.

Like anyone who's done a modicum of research on queer history, I came across the idea of "two-spirited" people of the North American indigenous cultures — people who were believed to possess the spirit of both a man and a woman — and I was deeply inspired by this construct. These were cultures where a third-gender, one that was both male and female (and also neither) was part of the everyday.

A few years ago, a dear beloved of mine gave me a copy of Randy P. Conner's "Blossom of Bone: Reclaiming the Connections Between Homoeroticism and the Sacred," and reading it became a watershed moment. I learned of queer priestesses from the Mediterranean to Africa, gender-variant sexual healers in the Middle East, queer Santeros (followers of the African diasporic faith Santeria), and countless other peoples throughout time and history who found their (what I would call today) queer identities to be their sources of power.

I devoted myself years ago to an Earth-centered path, proudly calling myself a witch and actively devoting myself to Queer Spirit paths — roads of beauty, delight, deep authenticity, freedom and the powers of pleasure. I look to the past as I try to create a future for myself and hopefully for other queer people in my life — yes, there's a healthy dose of old gay in this new gay.

My choices to commit to a spiritual life has had a profound effect on my everyday goings-on and my outlook on the world.

Part of what's central to me about Queer Spirit is the dismantling of patriarchal/hierarchical ways of expression, thought, and belief, as well as living an authentic, unapologetic existence.

Gay rights pioneer Harry Hay coined a term that frequently serves as a touchstone for my relationships with others and even with divinity itself: subject-subject consciousness. This is the idea that queer people embody the possibility of relating to each other as true equals, co-creators in the moment. Straight couples carry around years of baggage surrounding gender inequity, but gay couples can capitalize on not having to wade through misogyny because of the very nature of our relationships.

(All the more reason why adopting negative connotative attitudes around seeming sub-identities in the queer community — top/bottom, femme/butch — is such an unfortunate occurrence. When we shit on some guy for being a nelly queen, we assert ourselves as tools of patriarchy, judgment, and classification based on misogynistic, subject-object consciousness — not co-creative, subject-subject consciousness.)

In my spiritual practice, I believe in various deities and interact with them through prayer, trance and regular conversations. However, with Queer Spirit as a basis for my religious beliefs, I do not think of deity as "greater" than me. Deity is not "better" than any of us. Deity is simply another form of existence, one that has a different set of perspectives, but not one that has any right to demand I do certain things, pay obeisance, or mindlessly sacrifice things in my life that are important to me (Yahweh would have gotten a grand "fuck you" if he asked me to sacrifice my son).

As for living an authentic life, I believe doing so is one of the greatest gifts that queer people can give themselves and the world at large. When we continue to be harassed around the globe with everything from insensitivity to death, standing up and choosing to live our lives as who we are is a revolutionary act, one that can be extrapolated into other arenas of our lives.

Once I came out and chose to live as an open gay man, it became more difficult not to be open in other areas of my life — everything from emotional authenticity with my partner to political authenticity (no, I will not vote for a Democrat who believes we aren't full human beings under the law just to oust a Republican). I realized that I identify much more with those third-gendered types than with men, and my having a cock and using it with delight doesn't precipitate my expression as someone who knows "himself" to be both male and female and neither.

This authenticity born from a Queer perspective also leads me to follow my dreams, my desires and my inspiration. I don't have to settle in my life for anything. I only have to act according to my core values and reach for the brass ring, embracing all the wild joy and wrenching pain that process engenders.

I would love to hear feedback from people about their interactions with spirituality and what it means in their lives (both positive and negative). I think it's high time that queers start to expand the dialogue away from standard "The-Lord-Is-My-Shepherd" talk to how our very identities shape our beliefs about ourselves and the world at large.