This past weekend, I co-facilitated a Teachers of Peace workshop in southwest Ohio through Wilmington College. In Ohio, "anti-bullying" is a big thing in the schools, and so it was big in the teachers' minds this weekend. What emerged as a topic was not the bully and the victim, but the bystander. Martin Luther King said "the world begins to end when we are silent on the things that matter". Throughout the course of the discussion, what was interesting to me was to observe how easy it is for all of us to fall into the role of bystander: the teacher who sees in her gym class when students are overly aggressive to the "soft" (meaning gay?) students, and only gives a warning; the teacher who shops at Wal-Mart despite knowing their gender, race, and overall employee bullying tactics; and for me to see the four college students walk right by and look at the woman in DC who was getting ready to jump off a bridge down to a freeway (others of us intervened).
What leads to some of this? Paralysis is part of it; uncertainty of what we can do (such as in the case of the aggressive behavior in the gym); and self-preservation as in the Wal-Mart case (many people shop at Wal-Mart because of the affordability of the products).
At the other end of the spectrum, however, there is the issue of over-reacting in a way that causes more harm than good. To startle the person about to jump may cause him/her to lose balance; to overtly punish and shame the aggressive gym student may simply drive the behavior further underground; and to simply stop shopping at Wal-Mart will do little unless it is done in mass numbers.
So what can we do? Well, what we talked about in the workshop was to put things into a time continuum, and ask the question "where would we like things to be in 5 or 10 years? what can we do now to move things in that direction?" Ultimately we can "speak truth" and bear witness with patience and perseverance. The Wal-Mart shopper can write letters to the editor about unjust practices, or take offensive/mean-spirited t-shirts off the shelves and to the manager to complain about them; the gym teacher can start to track the behavior in the gym, and ask other teachers to do the same outside the gym class, and then take it to the administrator.
The challenge is that we live in a world of polarity - all or nothing. Often we respond to bullying behavior in all its culturally nuanced ways with a bullying response. That's the problem with "anti-" anything; it's about "combating" something which just brings more combat. The real work is to prevent the condition - something that takes a long time, but something we can move towards every day with patience and perseverance.
Monday, September 29, 2008
Sunday, July 27, 2008
I am spending much of this summer and early fall going to a few Yearly Meetings and other Friends gatherings both as a participant and as a presenter/facilitator. At some of these gatherings, my topic is really a simple story of the experiences I have had with many evangelical Christians in the midwest, and some subsequent experiences in Kenya, where I have experienced the truth that bearing witness to each can bring about positive change is discussed. This is a challenge for me to talk about, because all I can really do is say that it has happened. The challenge arises when people want to understand how or why it happens, which is something I cannot describe. Perhaps we as a society have become so trained to believe that unless we can clearly state what the outcome will be of our efforts, we cannot engage in anything new. But I think there is more to it than that.
Skeptically, I think there are a number of factors at work: fear, desire for status-quo, ego, the need to be right (and others to be wrong) are among them, and these, I suspect, are not conscious and are a web of synergistic forces not easily delineated. In fact, even trying to delineate them then becomes a further act-delaying tactic.
Where does the "leap of faith" come into play? For years, I have told clients in my private counseling practice that one definition of insanity is to repeat the same behavior and expect different results. The hard part is that we so often don't recognize our own patterns; we need to be in relation with others in order to see our patterns (or, as I like to think, our narratives). What is most helpful is to engage in relations with people that we may consider not like-minded, and to do so in a way of simply witnessing and understanding, not argument and persuasion. I have found that we can then become more conscious of our patterns - our fears, our need to control, our beliefs, our mis-beliefs, etc.
This comes up now, as I find that one of the most frequent questions that arises at the various gatherings I have been attending is: "what can we (Meetings, groups) do to help support the glbt community", especially from among groups that already seem to be "open and affirming". I don't have an answer. I'm not the glbt community. The best I can say is be open to the possibilities, and build relationships out in the community. Perhaps become vocal when you see injustice, but be careful to not be too one-sided - it can fuel a righteousness that does not foster compassion and peace.
As a slight tangent, I recently attended a Congregational church in Silver Spring, MD. It's an open and affirming congregation, with a message of come as you are. One thing they have printed on their program also says "Becoming anti-racist". I love that they acknowledge the "becoming" of this. It's self-effacing; acknowledging that they are not their yet. Perhaps, this notion of "becoming" accepting, or "becoming" open-minded, is something we can all do, rather than state unequivocally that we are open-minded, or open and affirming.
Skeptically, I think there are a number of factors at work: fear, desire for status-quo, ego, the need to be right (and others to be wrong) are among them, and these, I suspect, are not conscious and are a web of synergistic forces not easily delineated. In fact, even trying to delineate them then becomes a further act-delaying tactic.
Where does the "leap of faith" come into play? For years, I have told clients in my private counseling practice that one definition of insanity is to repeat the same behavior and expect different results. The hard part is that we so often don't recognize our own patterns; we need to be in relation with others in order to see our patterns (or, as I like to think, our narratives). What is most helpful is to engage in relations with people that we may consider not like-minded, and to do so in a way of simply witnessing and understanding, not argument and persuasion. I have found that we can then become more conscious of our patterns - our fears, our need to control, our beliefs, our mis-beliefs, etc.
This comes up now, as I find that one of the most frequent questions that arises at the various gatherings I have been attending is: "what can we (Meetings, groups) do to help support the glbt community", especially from among groups that already seem to be "open and affirming". I don't have an answer. I'm not the glbt community. The best I can say is be open to the possibilities, and build relationships out in the community. Perhaps become vocal when you see injustice, but be careful to not be too one-sided - it can fuel a righteousness that does not foster compassion and peace.
As a slight tangent, I recently attended a Congregational church in Silver Spring, MD. It's an open and affirming congregation, with a message of come as you are. One thing they have printed on their program also says "Becoming anti-racist". I love that they acknowledge the "becoming" of this. It's self-effacing; acknowledging that they are not their yet. Perhaps, this notion of "becoming" accepting, or "becoming" open-minded, is something we can all do, rather than state unequivocally that we are open-minded, or open and affirming.
Sunday, June 29, 2008
Compassion for Enemies
The acronym SPICE was brought up in today’s Meeting for Worship, with each letter explained: S for Simplicity, P for Peace, I for Integrity, C for Community, and E for Equality. I wondered, why couldn’t the C stand for Compassion instead? And my thoughts swam backwards towards a subject I’ve been thinking about for a while: the Armenian Genocide and the role of Ottomon Turkey in the genocide (and modern-day Turkey in its denial).
Since some of you don’t know me personally and don’t read my livejournal, you may not know that my dad’s family is ethnically Armenian. They lived in Lebanon for a number of years before relocating to America in 1965. We are proud to be Armenian. I’m proud to be Armenian. But part of being Armenian is knowing about what’s been called the “first modern genocide”, that of the Armenians by Ottoman Turks in 1915, where over a million Armenians, including pregnant mothers, elderly men and women, infants, children… everyone, were killed by various horrific ways. But it didn’t start then, not really. The first massacres started in 1896, when hundreds of thousands of Armenians were killed.
Turkey has denied that the slaughter of Armenians in 1915 was a genocide, calling it “civil unrest”, etc. No one except Turks and those paid off by Turkey believes this. But because modern-day Turkey denies the Armenian Genocide, there’s a lot of anger between modern-day Armenians and modern-day Turks. It’s part of being Armenian today, knowing that you’ve lost relatives in the Genocide and knowing that there’s a possibility Turkey will never accept it as genocide, much less apologize.
I’m reading a book now that gives me hope. It’s called “A Shameful Act”, and it’s written by a Turk (who is now barred from Turkey, of course). Most books about the Armenian Genocide focus on the slaughter, the brutality, the sadness, and the official decisions that led to them. This book focuses on the history that made the Genocide possible, what was actually going on in the Ottoman Empire such that the conditions were there for a genocide to happen.
And reading about how scared the Ottoman Turkish government was of losing everything: country, identity, religion, I’ve come to understand that it was fear, not hate, that led to the genocide. And as I was sitting in Meeting for Worship this morning, a wave of compassion swept over me and I found myself thinking, “I forgive you. I forgive you for what you did to my ancestors and what you are still doing by denial. I forgive you.”
Even more than that, I found myself imagining how soul-destroying it must be to be so consumed by fear that one thinks genocide is the only way. Can any of you imagine what that must feel like? To be so afraid of something, of your identity being swallowed by Others, that killing those Others is the only solution?
I can’t imagine that kind of fear.
And then, an uncomfortable thought rose in me, spurned by a message in Meeting: what if we Armenians hadn’t been so Other? I’m not in any way blaming the Armenian Genocide on Armenians. The Ottomon Turks were responsible for how they reacted to their fear, not the Armenians. But I do wonder: if we hadn’t been so intent on maintaining our ethnic and cultural integrity, if we had intermingled more with the Muslims and the Turks, maybe we wouldn’t have been so Other.
There’s no way to know, of course. And intermingling would have required the cooperation of the Muslims and Turks of the time as well: it’s a two-way street, not a one-way.
But what about those of us today? Not just Armenians, but all of us in our cultural or ethnic groups, who worry about losing our integrity by intermingling with the dominant culture? What about Quakers, who worry about losing our cultural integrity if we stop numbering the days of the week instead of using their normal names? What about LGBTQ folks who stick together in one big group where anyone S is made to feel uncomfortable or unwelcome? What about ethnic groups in the US who refuse to learn English to any degree past “Thank you”, etc., and instead go on speaking their native language? (And I’m not talking here about people in ethnic groups who speak their native language when they’re gathered together at family functions, but those who speak their native language all the time.)
Let’s go back to Quakers. What about our Quakerese? What about our sacred peculiarities?
There’s value in cultural integrity. I love being with my Armenian family at parties, hearing four languages (French, Arabic, Armenian, English), the music, the food, the dancing! I’m not in any way saying those things should be less valued or diminished.
What I am saying is that we need to reach out to each other. We need to reach out to people who consider us Other and invite them in, not by forcing them to learn our language, but by showing them our own culture in ways they can understand: why these things are important to us, what we love about our language and our customs.
Most of all, we need compassion for those who consider us Other and whose lives are ruled by fear. We need a great deal of compassion for those who persecute us because they are afraid. And we need to recognize that we have a responsibility to those people, that it is just as much our job to make them unafraid of us as it is theirs. And, of course, we need to be aware of those Others we are afraid of, and reach out to them as well.
“Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.”
He wasn’t kidding.
Since some of you don’t know me personally and don’t read my livejournal, you may not know that my dad’s family is ethnically Armenian. They lived in Lebanon for a number of years before relocating to America in 1965. We are proud to be Armenian. I’m proud to be Armenian. But part of being Armenian is knowing about what’s been called the “first modern genocide”, that of the Armenians by Ottoman Turks in 1915, where over a million Armenians, including pregnant mothers, elderly men and women, infants, children… everyone, were killed by various horrific ways. But it didn’t start then, not really. The first massacres started in 1896, when hundreds of thousands of Armenians were killed.
Turkey has denied that the slaughter of Armenians in 1915 was a genocide, calling it “civil unrest”, etc. No one except Turks and those paid off by Turkey believes this. But because modern-day Turkey denies the Armenian Genocide, there’s a lot of anger between modern-day Armenians and modern-day Turks. It’s part of being Armenian today, knowing that you’ve lost relatives in the Genocide and knowing that there’s a possibility Turkey will never accept it as genocide, much less apologize.
I’m reading a book now that gives me hope. It’s called “A Shameful Act”, and it’s written by a Turk (who is now barred from Turkey, of course). Most books about the Armenian Genocide focus on the slaughter, the brutality, the sadness, and the official decisions that led to them. This book focuses on the history that made the Genocide possible, what was actually going on in the Ottoman Empire such that the conditions were there for a genocide to happen.
And reading about how scared the Ottoman Turkish government was of losing everything: country, identity, religion, I’ve come to understand that it was fear, not hate, that led to the genocide. And as I was sitting in Meeting for Worship this morning, a wave of compassion swept over me and I found myself thinking, “I forgive you. I forgive you for what you did to my ancestors and what you are still doing by denial. I forgive you.”
Even more than that, I found myself imagining how soul-destroying it must be to be so consumed by fear that one thinks genocide is the only way. Can any of you imagine what that must feel like? To be so afraid of something, of your identity being swallowed by Others, that killing those Others is the only solution?
I can’t imagine that kind of fear.
And then, an uncomfortable thought rose in me, spurned by a message in Meeting: what if we Armenians hadn’t been so Other? I’m not in any way blaming the Armenian Genocide on Armenians. The Ottomon Turks were responsible for how they reacted to their fear, not the Armenians. But I do wonder: if we hadn’t been so intent on maintaining our ethnic and cultural integrity, if we had intermingled more with the Muslims and the Turks, maybe we wouldn’t have been so Other.
There’s no way to know, of course. And intermingling would have required the cooperation of the Muslims and Turks of the time as well: it’s a two-way street, not a one-way.
But what about those of us today? Not just Armenians, but all of us in our cultural or ethnic groups, who worry about losing our integrity by intermingling with the dominant culture? What about Quakers, who worry about losing our cultural integrity if we stop numbering the days of the week instead of using their normal names? What about LGBTQ folks who stick together in one big group where anyone S is made to feel uncomfortable or unwelcome? What about ethnic groups in the US who refuse to learn English to any degree past “Thank you”, etc., and instead go on speaking their native language? (And I’m not talking here about people in ethnic groups who speak their native language when they’re gathered together at family functions, but those who speak their native language all the time.)
Let’s go back to Quakers. What about our Quakerese? What about our sacred peculiarities?
There’s value in cultural integrity. I love being with my Armenian family at parties, hearing four languages (French, Arabic, Armenian, English), the music, the food, the dancing! I’m not in any way saying those things should be less valued or diminished.
What I am saying is that we need to reach out to each other. We need to reach out to people who consider us Other and invite them in, not by forcing them to learn our language, but by showing them our own culture in ways they can understand: why these things are important to us, what we love about our language and our customs.
Most of all, we need compassion for those who consider us Other and whose lives are ruled by fear. We need a great deal of compassion for those who persecute us because they are afraid. And we need to recognize that we have a responsibility to those people, that it is just as much our job to make them unafraid of us as it is theirs. And, of course, we need to be aware of those Others we are afraid of, and reach out to them as well.
“Love your enemies. Pray for those who persecute you.”
He wasn’t kidding.
Monday, April 14, 2008
More FUM...
I participated in a Monthly Meeting dialog yesterday morning. This MM, like so many others that have a dual affiliation with FGC and FUM, are trying to discern whether to recommend withholding past dues to FUM. This is such a hard issue, as it seems to touch on so many things; past, present, future, faith, individuals, hurt, anger, love, fear, change, resistance to change, fellowship, hope, despair, just to name a few. Clearly, the FUM policy of not hiring people in glbt in relationships (or any non-traditional marriage) is one that increasingly is out of step with the way society is moving, but it is not yet out of the mainstream of society; sadly, but in fact it is perhaps more in step with society than not.
Some of my thoughts and afterthoughts:
As we search for clarity on this issue, some questions emerged, to me at least:
Some of my thoughts and afterthoughts:
- Many corporations, organizations, and institutions have changed and are changing their cultures and policies around glbt issues not as a result of people leaving, but as a result of people staying and being honest. At religious institutions and in faith communities throughout the country, glbt people and their families/friends have stated that their affinity to their faith is strong, and they are staying while working to change the policies. What is clearly happening is the culture is changing; the institutions are often the last to follow, but I believe will do so. Even at places like BYU, policies are changing (last March, the policy was revised so that gays and lesbians are not expelled for merely identifying as such, although pre-marital sex will get any student expelled).
- The era of identity politics seems to be coming to a close, as was mentioned by a colleague yesterday (the changing policy at BYU is a reflection of this).
- Sanctions in general do not work, other than to hurt the poor and disenfranchised. If we are to walk away from FUM, who will be there to provide witness for each other, and for the glbt youth that remain?
- We are meant to struggle, and I believe that struggles of this type nurture the soul. They can help with healing, but not fixing. The FUM policy is as much triggering old hurts in people as it is causing these hurts, and I think this is an important distinction.
- The FUM policy is not a change in policy, but perhaps more a reaction to a change in society. It takes time. When I was coming out, I was reminded to give others time to adjust.
- What we are talking about in many cases is belief systems, and I mean beyond institutional belief systems and include personal beliefs about self/other.
As we search for clarity on this issue, some questions emerged, to me at least:
- How do we tend to the immediate needs and hurts of our members while being aware that we also want to do what we can to end the hurt for future generations?
- We are a faith community. Can we take a leap of faith that in staying within the FUM community, we all might change for the better?
- How can this meeting, and all meetings struggling with this issue, find a way to be clear that it is accepting of all people, while being able to engage and even financially support those with whom it disagrees on some issues? I think my home Meeting in Downers Grove did a good job of this; I never once felt unwelcomed (well, once, really, when a woman felt I should not be washing dishes because I have HIV, but she soon left). The challenge is that some times, no matter what we do, people will never feel fully safe.
I'm sure there is more to come.
Sunday, March 30, 2008
Quakers, FUM and the younger generation
I just attended the intersession meeting for Baltimore Yearly Meeting. There was a subcommittee meeting in the morning of FLGBTQC, and then the meeting for business in the afternoon. A good chunk of meeting time with both meetings was spent discussing a minute to release past funds to Friends United Meeting. The brief background is that, since 2004, BYM has withheld its membership dues from FUM because of the FUM personnel policy to not hire gays and lesbians.
What was striking about the meetings, for me, was that the overwhelming majority of people in attendance are not in agreement with the policy, but there are SHARP and very emotionally-charged differences about how to proceed. BYM has dual affiliation with FUM and FGC (as does my home meeting in Illinois, through our memberships with Western Yearly Meeting and Illinois Yearly Meeting, so I am familiar with the challenges, especially since my marrage to Ladd in 1995 created a rift). There are basically two questions on the table: should past dues be paid, and should future membership with FUM continue?
Here's my own take: we should stay with FUM, and do so not with a sense of "they will come around to see things our way", but because being in relationship with people of diverse opinions and experiences is a very enriching experience. Of course, there are risks. Clearly people have been hurt by theological messages that condemn homosexuality, and even subtle messages like this (as in the form of personnel policies) can be harmful, perpetuating both hurt and prejudice. But my own experience working with evangelicals in Illinois is that there can be a softening of messages, and a deeper understanding of and appreciation for our humanity in each other - our fears, hopes, wants, loves, etc. - has opened us up for profound change. I also believe, and have seen, that we are on a positive trajectory with regards to acceptance of and rights for the glbt community. There will be struggles and resistance, but we Quakers can play a role in easing the resistances and minimizing the harm when we can be loving. I think the "under 30" generation is in a very different place with regards to glbt issues than my generation (mid-40's) and older - the younger generation is more fluid in its understanding of these issues, and how to relate to the complexity of issues in our world in a way that many of my peers were not raised to be. Perhaps technology (the ability to connect globally) is a reason for this; also, the "boxes" of diversity my generation created have less application these days as issues of race and gender are both perceived and in fact are more fluid. More and more, people are of mixed race/religion/ethnicity, and even gender is so much more than the male/female of my youth.
All of this just to say that, perhaps, we need to include and even follow the lead of the younger generation on these issues. There is a gathering of Young Adult Friends at Earlham in May; maybe they can help shed some light on this. It is a challenge - it is important to understand the hurt of people, and try to bring some healing to it, while also acknowledging that the younger glb (the "t" still has more challenges) community is experiencing a different world than 20 years ago.
The fact that like-minded people (such as those in attendance at the BYM meeting yesterday) can get into heated discussions about how to proceed is indicative of how challenging this is. It is perhaps a reminder for us to be humble as we proceed, and not be so quick to judge and withdraw from FUM. It has taken unprogrammed meetings in FGC various lengths of time to find acceptance, and there is still work to go (i.e. with the transgendered community, let alone complete acceptance of the glb community). For those of us who have gone through the coming out process, many of us were counseled that we need to be patient with our families to accept something that we often had more time to come to grips with. Maybe we can demonstrate the same patience with our fellow Quakers?
What was striking about the meetings, for me, was that the overwhelming majority of people in attendance are not in agreement with the policy, but there are SHARP and very emotionally-charged differences about how to proceed. BYM has dual affiliation with FUM and FGC (as does my home meeting in Illinois, through our memberships with Western Yearly Meeting and Illinois Yearly Meeting, so I am familiar with the challenges, especially since my marrage to Ladd in 1995 created a rift). There are basically two questions on the table: should past dues be paid, and should future membership with FUM continue?
Here's my own take: we should stay with FUM, and do so not with a sense of "they will come around to see things our way", but because being in relationship with people of diverse opinions and experiences is a very enriching experience. Of course, there are risks. Clearly people have been hurt by theological messages that condemn homosexuality, and even subtle messages like this (as in the form of personnel policies) can be harmful, perpetuating both hurt and prejudice. But my own experience working with evangelicals in Illinois is that there can be a softening of messages, and a deeper understanding of and appreciation for our humanity in each other - our fears, hopes, wants, loves, etc. - has opened us up for profound change. I also believe, and have seen, that we are on a positive trajectory with regards to acceptance of and rights for the glbt community. There will be struggles and resistance, but we Quakers can play a role in easing the resistances and minimizing the harm when we can be loving. I think the "under 30" generation is in a very different place with regards to glbt issues than my generation (mid-40's) and older - the younger generation is more fluid in its understanding of these issues, and how to relate to the complexity of issues in our world in a way that many of my peers were not raised to be. Perhaps technology (the ability to connect globally) is a reason for this; also, the "boxes" of diversity my generation created have less application these days as issues of race and gender are both perceived and in fact are more fluid. More and more, people are of mixed race/religion/ethnicity, and even gender is so much more than the male/female of my youth.
All of this just to say that, perhaps, we need to include and even follow the lead of the younger generation on these issues. There is a gathering of Young Adult Friends at Earlham in May; maybe they can help shed some light on this. It is a challenge - it is important to understand the hurt of people, and try to bring some healing to it, while also acknowledging that the younger glb (the "t" still has more challenges) community is experiencing a different world than 20 years ago.
The fact that like-minded people (such as those in attendance at the BYM meeting yesterday) can get into heated discussions about how to proceed is indicative of how challenging this is. It is perhaps a reminder for us to be humble as we proceed, and not be so quick to judge and withdraw from FUM. It has taken unprogrammed meetings in FGC various lengths of time to find acceptance, and there is still work to go (i.e. with the transgendered community, let alone complete acceptance of the glb community). For those of us who have gone through the coming out process, many of us were counseled that we need to be patient with our families to accept something that we often had more time to come to grips with. Maybe we can demonstrate the same patience with our fellow Quakers?
Friday, March 14, 2008
Clearness
One of the reasons I haven’t posted much in the last month is that I requested a Clearness Committee partially about the purpose of my personal Quaker blog (http://thefriendlyfunnel.quakerism.net). The meeting was yesterday. I still don’t have clearness about whether that blog should be used for ministry only or as a means of spiritual journaling, where I vent my questions and share my thoughts.
But the heart of this Clearness Committee was about my concern about the state of the Meeting with regards to gay marriage. This concern has two parts: first, I am concerned that where the Meeting is makes us not as welcoming as we should be to GLBTQ people; second, I am concerned about the damage done to the Meeting during the stage of conflict that led up to our current position and that time alone won’t adequately heal these wounds. (For the record, our position is that a gay couple can have a commitment ceremony with individual members taking that commitment under their care.)
Without going into too much detail about the inner workings of my Monthly Meeting, I discovered during the Clearness Committee meeting yesterday that even just defining what the letters GLBTQ stand for can be seen as stirring up controversy. This discovery occurred after the statement was made that I would have been treated exactly the same by the Meeting if my life partner had been a woman instead of a man; and that the Meeting has no problem welcoming GLBTQ people specifically. I asked: “How can our Meeting be truly welcoming to people when we can’t even discuss what their letter stands for?”
If we are so uncomfortable discussing sexuality that even the most general information can be seen as controversial, how can this not affect how we treat people who challenge our perceptions of “normal” sexuality and gender?
This saddens me greatly, because I had hoped that my Meeting was past this. And it saddens me to know that there must be people who don’t or won’t feel as welcome as everyone else in my Meeting community.
I went into the Clearness Committee meeting with one question first in my mind: what am I being called to do? It had become clear that my concern was not something I should lay down: because I’ve tried that in the past and it just keeps coming back. By the end of the meeting, I didn’t feel I had the clearness I’d been seeking. But it came to me last night, as I was trying to process what happened during the Clearness Committee meeting, that I do know what I’m being called to do and to say that I don’t know is just an excuse to give me the option to choose not to do it.
I am, quite simply, being called to speak. I am being called to break the silence that smothers my Meeting with regards to non-heterosexual people, loves, sexuality, and even faith. I am being called to stand up and challenge heterosexism whenever and wherever I see it.
I am being called to honor silence when used in worship, but to reject silence when it is oppressive. I am called to respect the comfort levels of other people, but only when they do not deny a part of my being.
I would prefer to keep silent. Anyone who knows my history well knows that I would rather be the one solving a conflict than stirring one up. By speaking up about an issue that will make others uncomfortable, I risk being called or thought of as an attention seeker, a troublemaker, or a drama queen. I am none of those things.
I’ve been struggling with the testimony of Integrity for a while. The only way I can truly live my life with Integrity is by speaking up when being silent would be denying part of who I am. I have to admit, though, that I am terrified.
But the heart of this Clearness Committee was about my concern about the state of the Meeting with regards to gay marriage. This concern has two parts: first, I am concerned that where the Meeting is makes us not as welcoming as we should be to GLBTQ people; second, I am concerned about the damage done to the Meeting during the stage of conflict that led up to our current position and that time alone won’t adequately heal these wounds. (For the record, our position is that a gay couple can have a commitment ceremony with individual members taking that commitment under their care.)
Without going into too much detail about the inner workings of my Monthly Meeting, I discovered during the Clearness Committee meeting yesterday that even just defining what the letters GLBTQ stand for can be seen as stirring up controversy. This discovery occurred after the statement was made that I would have been treated exactly the same by the Meeting if my life partner had been a woman instead of a man; and that the Meeting has no problem welcoming GLBTQ people specifically. I asked: “How can our Meeting be truly welcoming to people when we can’t even discuss what their letter stands for?”
If we are so uncomfortable discussing sexuality that even the most general information can be seen as controversial, how can this not affect how we treat people who challenge our perceptions of “normal” sexuality and gender?
This saddens me greatly, because I had hoped that my Meeting was past this. And it saddens me to know that there must be people who don’t or won’t feel as welcome as everyone else in my Meeting community.
I went into the Clearness Committee meeting with one question first in my mind: what am I being called to do? It had become clear that my concern was not something I should lay down: because I’ve tried that in the past and it just keeps coming back. By the end of the meeting, I didn’t feel I had the clearness I’d been seeking. But it came to me last night, as I was trying to process what happened during the Clearness Committee meeting, that I do know what I’m being called to do and to say that I don’t know is just an excuse to give me the option to choose not to do it.
I am, quite simply, being called to speak. I am being called to break the silence that smothers my Meeting with regards to non-heterosexual people, loves, sexuality, and even faith. I am being called to stand up and challenge heterosexism whenever and wherever I see it.
I am being called to honor silence when used in worship, but to reject silence when it is oppressive. I am called to respect the comfort levels of other people, but only when they do not deny a part of my being.
I would prefer to keep silent. Anyone who knows my history well knows that I would rather be the one solving a conflict than stirring one up. By speaking up about an issue that will make others uncomfortable, I risk being called or thought of as an attention seeker, a troublemaker, or a drama queen. I am none of those things.
I’ve been struggling with the testimony of Integrity for a while. The only way I can truly live my life with Integrity is by speaking up when being silent would be denying part of who I am. I have to admit, though, that I am terrified.
Wednesday, March 12, 2008
Iran, Gays, and execution
One of the gifts of Quakerism has been the gift of bearing witness and speaking truth to power. John Woolman is perhaps the figure who best personifies this, demonstrating that this bearing witness can make a difference. Do gay rights rise to the occassion for Quakers, as abolition, civil rights, and rights for women has in the past? Below is an e-mail I sent out to some Wheaton, IL peers, most of whom are active in Evangelical churches.
"I know we've all heard of persecution of gays, but apparently, Iran, as a government policy, takes it a step further:
http://news.aol.com/story/_a/gay-iranian-teen-loses-asylum-bid/20080311192709990001
I saw last night an article that Iran, on the other hand, has very loose guidelines for sex-change operations (see http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/4115535.stm for more information). Apparently, many homosexuals are opting for sex-change over execution. Go figure."
What should Quakers do about this? What can we do?
"I know we've all heard of persecution of gays, but apparently, Iran, as a government policy, takes it a step further:
http://news.aol.com/story/_a/gay-iranian-teen-loses-asylum-bid/20080311192709990001
I saw last night an article that Iran, on the other hand, has very loose guidelines for sex-change operations (see http://news.bbc.co.uk/2/hi/programmes/newsnight/4115535.stm for more information). Apparently, many homosexuals are opting for sex-change over execution. Go figure."
What should Quakers do about this? What can we do?
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