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allyship, essays, faith, queer

Why I don’t do queer apologetics

jennadewitt

Here’s the thing about arguing for queer rights and dignity. I can give them the ACLU map of ~500 anti-LGBTQ bills in the US. They will say those bills are good, actually. I can give them book lists, but they’ll say those are made up for profit.

I can give them story after story, but it’s just anecdotes, not hard data. I can give them data from the best experts, but they will say it’s flawed and poor quality and biased. I can show them history, but they will say that’s in the past, not today.

I can explain rainbow capitalism, but they will say that’s just evidence we control society and are oppressing THEM, actually, by forcing them to see we exist. I can tell them straightphobia isn’t real. I can say that accountability is not bullying. But their hearts are hardened.

I can say religion doesn’t actually require you to oppress us, and allowing our existence is not religious persecution, but they say I’m a heretic and leading others astray because their god is cisheteropatriarchy. I can say they are called to love. They say their harm IS love.

If I don’t use religion, they say I abandoned my faith. If I do, they say I’m manipulating it to fit what I want it to say. If I use science, they will say science isn’t reliable and researchers are under pressure from liberals. If I don’t, they’ll say science is on their side.

If I rehash my trauma and every other queer person’s, it won’t be enough and I’m just an emotional, irrational, delusional victim of the conveniently amorphous and vaguely defined “culture.” If I point out the reality of our queerphobic culture, they say I’m exaggerating. If I try to give them evidence, the cycle restarts, ad nauseam.

So that’s why I block instead of educating those I can tell are unwilling to learn. It’s an unwinnable system. I’d rather spend my limited time on equipping queer people and allies. If you have genuine questions and want to learn, you are welcome here. Take a look around.

Poetry

A little talk

jennadewitt 
You want to go deep
But sneer talking about the weather
You want the real stuff
But don’t hear the question
“Am I safe here?”
You’re missing it 

It might rain later
Life falls from heaven!
And it’s so hot my 
Tomatoes are lost
Losing track of time
And I might lose myself

I say, “eh, I’m fine, but 
things are hard, you know?”
And you rush past it
To the next big thing
I say, “hangin’ in there. And you?”
Seen on Thursday, 6:35 p.m.

Small steps forward,
Big steps back 
Marbles in the jar and out
With an ache of vulnerability
A meme, a text, a question
To break the ice

Attempts to connect
Passing by unnoticed
Hearts on the line
Desperate to be seen
While you’re waiting for 
Real life to start

What if weather is a wonder?
What if trust is built 
In small conversations 
In gentleness and interest
In reciprocation and relief and “me too”
Where more is said than words.
Poetry

Junebugs

jennadewitt 
Swinging in the twilight 
Summer sun cools to breezes 
Vanilla ice cream— 
From little plastic cups with wood spoons— 
Dripped on concrete 
Sticky memorial to innocence 

Street lights come on 
And junebugs play 
As Dad laughs and Mom chats with the neighbors. 
Remember 
This was us once
allyship, essays, queer

The rainbow baton

jennadewitt

I’ve been marveling a little at how far we’ve come in our lifetimes. There’s so much queer content now, not just coded but stated clearly, that it’s a major party platform to ban it.

That entire religious denominations are splitting in half (half with us!) and have to go to extreme financial and legal lengths to fight against us. City councils and school boards have allies at them, vocal and not anonymous! Support is so high that the haters have to resort to coordinated campaigns and recycle their fear-mongering and dig out Anita Bryant’s old catchphrases to make Florida the leader in hate again instead of just taking it for granted that we are society’s undesirables.

Continue reading “The rainbow baton” →
Poetry

Relating

jennadewitt

I don’t know how you feel

I haven’t had your particular expression

Of grief, of loss, of pain

I can’t say I’ve been through that

Exactly, particularly, specifically

In the ways you experienced it

But I do know what it’s like

To be what parents fear for their child

To grow up and become

I do know what it’s like

For every cell to groan with need

For answers and Why and I hate this

I do know how it feels

To have so much love to give

If only someone wanted it, wanted me

I know intimately the story

Of sitting in the soul dark silence

Knowing no one is coming to save you from this

I know being different, I know alone,

I know the constant low hum of fear

As you smile in a privileged outer life

I know Mirrorball, and

This is Me Trying,

And Tied Together With a Smile

I can’t say I know your life

But maybe in part,

And you know mine in some way

And we can see each other

As kin, and gently say

Me too. You are not the only one.

allyship, aromanticism, asexuality, disability, faith, Mental health, neurodivergence, queer, resources

Naming

jennadewitt

As you might assume from my content on this site, I carry a lot of labels. Some are less well-known than others, and some carry inaccurate connotations. Some I am constantly working for greater awareness of, and others I keep quieter about. These labels have been immensely helpful for me, whether they are as specific as a microlabel on the spectrum of aromantic and asexual identity or as broad as the unifying and nebulous umbrella terms that I’m not sure where all I fit within.

Naming is important to self-concept and acceptance of our identity, but there are equally important stages that we move through before and after we first say, “Hi, my name is ____ and I’m ____.” These aren’t strictly linear, but they are numbered for the sake of organization:

Continue reading “Naming” →
essays, faith, queer

What do we do with all this grief

jennadewitt

Today, Sarah Bessey asked her readers on her Substack about all the losses that come with deconstruction/faith evolution. It made me think of a related, often simultaneous loss when that deconstruction is part of coming out as queer:

There’s something I tell queer people when they come out and lose so much (or publicly identify as allies). Yes, you will lose belonging and comfort. Maybe your job, church, friends, family, sense of stable identity, certainty, easy acceptance into your communities, even safety. But by being vulnerable, that courage opens many doors as well. You are not alone in this. You are welcome to grieve together with others who have lost the same. You are now part of a free, inclusive, authentic family. It is so so so painful, and there is so much to mourn and lament in the rage and tears. No, it isn’t fair. Yes, it would have hurt so much less if people saw and loved the full, real you.

Continue reading “What do we do with all this grief” →
faith, Poetry, queer

Politicized

jennadewitt

We say

Your theology leads to harm

You say

That’s tough love for rebels

We say

Your politics lead to death

You say

Words can’t hurt

We say stop killing us

You say

Stop being dramatic

We grieve at headlines

We cry in news photos

We raise the alarm

And violence still comes

We say we told you so

You say now is not the time

To politicize a tragedy.

allyship, essays, faith, guest post, queer

Raising affirming kids when you weren’t raised that way

jennadewitt

I’m honored to introduce you to my friend and former coworker Bekah McNeel. Bekah is an author, journalist, and podcaster (check out our episode together here!) who works tirelessly for those on the margins to have their voices heard and to bring about real change through the power of storytelling. I asked her if she would be willing to share with us her perspective on raising kids in affirming theology and modeling allyship as a parent. Read her wisdom here and then read her book, Bringing Up Kids When Church Lets You Down: A Guide for Parents Questioning Their Faith, which covers many more topics relevant to this community. 

Continue reading “Raising affirming kids when you weren’t raised that way” →