New Testament Reading: Matthew 11: 16-19
A Voice of Liberation Reading: “A Gay Manifesto” (1969-1970) Carl Wittman
“San Francisco is a refugee camp for homosexuals. We have fled here from every part of the nation, and like refugees elsewhere, we came not because it is so great here, but because it was so bad there. By the tens of thousands, we fled small towns where to be ourselves would endanger our jobs and any hope of a decent life; we have fled from blackmailing cops, from families who disowned or ‘tolerated’ us; we have been drummed out of the armed services, thrown out of schools, fired from jobs, beaten by punks and policemen. And we have formed a ghetto, out of self-protection. It is a ghetto rather than a free territory because it is still theirs. Straight cops patrol us, straight legislators govern us, straight employers keep us in line, straight money exploits us. We have pretended everything is OK, because we haven’t been able to see how to change it – we’ve been afraid.
In the past year there has been an awakening of gay liberation ideas and energy. How it began we don’t know; maybe we were inspired by black people and their freedom movement; we learned how to stop pretending from the hip revolution. Amerika in all its ugliness has surfaced with the war and our national leaders. And we are revulsed by the quality of our ghetto life.
Where once there was frustration, alienation, and cynicism, there are new characteristics among us. We are full of love for each other and are showing it; we are full of anger at what has been done to us. And as we recall all the self-censorship and repression for so many years, a reservoir of tears pours out of our eyes. And we are euphoric, high, with the initial flourish of a movement."
Sermon
It’s the funeral for her mother Mildred, and Kate Bornstein is asked by one of her mother’s friends who she is, except the puzzled woman can’t manage to say the question right, so it comes out as “Hoowahyoo?” Much to the shock of her mother’s friend, Kate explains that she is Mildred’s daughter. “Daughter?!! Mildred never mentioned she had a daughter.” The friend only knew of there being two sons. It wasn’t that Mildred ever had more than two children, however. It was that one of them changed genders. Kate was born as Albert, and now at the age of forty, she has successfully survived the battle of being considered a freak, of living as someone who did not fall neatly into the categories of gender and sexual orientation society imposes upon us.
Kate shares her tips for survival in a book entitled, Hello, Cruel World: 101 Alternatives to Suicide for Teens, Freaks, and Other Outlaws. Some of the tips might seem offensive to a general audience, but I am guessing Kate has succeeded in meeting her target audience where they are at: on a dangerous cliff edge where anything would be better than jumping. At the same time, many of Kate’s tips also sound like they could describe what it is that a church at its best has to offer. Here is a sampling of some of the alternatives she suggests to those on the brink of committing suicide: find a friend, join a group that wants you as a member, serve somebody, try to keep someone else alive, go on a quest, and find a God who believes in you. Kate also recommends finding a cause. In writing about this, she says, “Try saving one whale, one child, or one tiny piece of the world. That kind of work is like falling in love or talking with God.”
Churches would seem to have a great potential for providing a refuge for teens, freaks, and other outlaws who are considering suicide. With Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender (LGBT) youth suffering from suicide rates at two to three times the national average for youth in general, open and affirming churches could ostensibly play a significant role in keeping youth alive. For LGBT youth, there are few places to go in this society that provide safe, affirming spaces.
This past week I was reading about the history of the Stonewall Riots, a watershed event in the LGBT liberation movement. It took place in June of 1969 when the New York City Police raided a gay bar known as the Stonewall Inn. Unlike previous occasions, arrest was not only resisted, but it spurred rioting that lasted for days and inspired protest in other cities in the U.S. A year after Stonewall the first gay pride parade was held as a way to keep its spirit alive. As I read about Stonewall and the history surrounding it, I was struck by something that I am hesitant to say because of the negative associations that could come to mind. I was struck by how gay bars in the 1960s served a role in some ways akin to churches at their best. They were something of a refuge from society—a place where outcasts could gather. One account of the Stonewall Inn describes it as a place “sardine-packed with young men, including drag queens, hippies, street people, and uptown boys slumming.” Many of those present “were runaways, some had nowhere else to go.” Almost sounds like a modern day band of Jesus followers.
A question that we might consider is whether our own doors are as open as those of a Stonewall Inn or a local gay bar for that matter. Secretly, do some of us who are straight make distinctions between LGBT persons we deem acceptable and those we do not? While we still need to make sure we are truly an open and affirming church, I think there is also the danger of Open and Affirming congregations becoming trapped within our own churches or even the gay pride parades in which we participate. Might churches such as ours run the risk of becoming Open and Affirming ghettos in a world that is still Closed and Damming?
When we look at the history of LGBT struggles, we can see that it has involved ongoing battles concerning the policies and practices of our government. Over the past forty years a tremendous number of victories have been achieved in struggles against police repression, sodomy laws, governmental inaction against AIDS, and the general invisibility of LGBT persons in political discourses. Today, marriage equality has taken center stage, but there are still a host of other important issues to tackle such as making schools safe from bullying, passing anti-discrimination legislation at the federal level, and continuing to address HIV/AIDS, especially for persons with low incomes. Moreover, despite gains, the continued lack of complete visibility for LGBT persons in the public sphere adds to the importance of concerned straight people making a conscious effort to listen to the voices of those engaged in LGBT struggles for justice and equality. This is a key part of developing the lenses through which we view our government. Just as voices such as Frederick Douglass brought awareness to white abolitionists, the voices of the LGBT liberation movement are needed to bring awareness to straight allies.
Maybe what each socially conscious church should really strive to be is not simply an open and affirming church but a liberating church as well. Being open and affirming is great, but it is essentially a passive act. Being a liberating church, however, means action. At the end of the day, churches have a lot to gain by becoming open, affirming, and liberating. After all, as our second reading makes plain, what is often at stake
is no less than love itself. Writing in 1902, John William Lloyd, wrote:
"When we once enlarge ourselves on this matter of love, draw a free breath, so to speak, and take a really brave look around, we shall find that nothing but our superstitions on one hand and our selfish meanness on the other has kept us from a whole world of love and lovers always ready and waiting for us. There is no reason why every kind of love that has ever been known to [humankind] should not be accepted, purified, understood, embraced, and wisely made to yield its joy and service to the life of everyone of us. Larger! Larger!—Let us be more! Let us give and accept more."
Amen.