Separate Ways
Tag: religion
Please, Don’t Shove Your Hatred Into God’s Mouth
It pains me that I am here before you now, sharing yet another piece by a great, solid, empowering Writer by the name of James Finn via Medium. Not only is this wonderful man an advocate for the LGBTQ community, but he also lives and breathes the work that he shares–this is his life. It has become mine too. What I am going to share with you is appalling, graphic in nature, and displays that this world is still hellbent on hate yet calling it God’s love. How? How can one fix one’s mouth and refer to any acts of hate, fear-mongering, and total disdain for the differences in others God’s love?
I will remind you, it is not.
His post, Conversations with a Homophobe is catching fire via Medium (as it should), and it details his conversation with a follower on Twitter who is Catholic and from what I can ascertain, firmly believes that heinous acts against those of the LGBTQ community are well-warranted and righteous performances of what God expects. According to him, we are to be weeded from the garden, cast out, dwindled down in lesser numbers, and all with God’s approval from the Catholic church. I will be the first to tell you of my upbringing– a Southern (based on region) Baptist from a family that was and is devout in Christianity. For thirty years, I trapped myself, kept myself in the closet, knowing full well of who I was well before I knew the term, the label, the explanation of how God crafted me to be. Yes, GOD made me, so he knew who I was before I became this flower of a person, this person who I love so much more now knowing that I am finally free in my own skin.
Being gay, a lesbian, bisexual, transgendered, queer, etc is STILL BEING HUMAN. Where is humanity? Reading Jim’s article, it goes on to explain the reason for his post on Twitter was to bring attention to that of a young man who had been hacked, sliced & diced with machetes because he is gay and followers of the Roman Catholicism branch of faith took it upon themselves to make an example of this young man. He will probably die.
“The young man was attacked because people found out he’s gay. He says they screamed at him about God and sin as they butchered him. They’re all faithful Catholics. They believe what their Church teaches about gay men being evil and depraved. They acted on that belief.”
From the Catholic Catechism:
“Homosexual persons are called to chastity. By the virtues of self-mastery, they can and should gradually and resolutely approach Christian perfection.”
Hmm. “Christian perfection.” No one is perfect, but God. We will always be flawed, and if we attempt any such advancements toward perfectionism, something we cannot obtain, we will be further reminded of our humanness–of our flaws. I love my faith. I love being a follower of Christ. I love God. What I do not stand for, what I do not love, is hatred toward any human being made by the hands of God. I do not care about the source, the whys, the hows, the whats–I do not stand for it. If you are a child of God, if you call yourself a follower of Christ, in any branch of the religious world, you are to love others as you love yourself and you are to do so according to the word of God.
GOD IS LOVE.
Please… Please stop shoving your hatred into God’s mouth. He doesn’t speak hate. He never has. He never will. Jim has asked that his article Conversations with a Homophobe be shared to all social media outlets. Facebook has deleted his posts. Twitter has done the same. Why? Because he is speaking against a major religious figurehead and for some reason, around the globe, but especially in the US, we are not to point fingers at those who believe they are on some sort of pious pedestal. I don’t mind pointing fingers, especially if you are wrong. Especially if it hurts people. And most especially, if it kills them. I am not on Facebook. I do not have Twitter. Soon, I will no longer have Instagram. Social media is not my bag.
But, I have a voice, so I am sharing this here.
Conversations with a Homophobe
I am blessed that I have a mother who was fighting for me without my knowledge when family members were sharing their thoughts of who I was or who they thought I was going to be. I am blessed to have a mother who still fights for me. Brothers who have all stated that they are waiting for anyone to fix their mouths and say something against me that is not of their approval. Friends who still stand by my side. Coming out a few months ago was hard to do, but I am more than happy that I did it. As a reminder, you can be religious, faithful, and devout–you can be all of this and not spout hate to those who are in some way, different than you. God is love. Anything else is not of God.
“Love one another.”
“Go Tell It On The Mountain”
You pick. You poke. You prod. I have noticed the change in you and I am of sound mind. I am a whole spirit. I still have my good heart and I thought you had yours, but you are unveiling a side to you that I have never known. And then, we have never been what we are now. Open. Honest. We have always walked on eggshells, scared to reveal our true selves to each other. Yet, there was love.
Yet —
There Was
US.
I will admit, there are pieces of me I now feel should have remain caged, but then this bird would not sing. There would not be a tune to share and ears to hear it as it flows melodiously through the clouds. I am slowly moving forward. I am clearing a way for desperate dreams. I will not deny you the deepest parts of me if you will give me your word that you will keep them safe. And I do not think you will give me your word. I do not think you will trust yourself enough to understand what we went through. What I went through while being with you.
I do not need any more egocentric fools racing to bid on my sanity — how long will I have it? When will I break? I thought, because I want to believe in the good in you than evil, that you would fight to remain beautiful. And not the type of beauty that’s plastered on magazine covers or as subjects of famous paintings, but the beauty that comes from waking up next to someone who spent thirty seconds gently rubbing your forehead and whispering to you until your eyes opened. Or the beauty that comes from watching a toddler take his first steps, giggling at the momentous achievement.
I wanted your beauty to last so that when I looked at you, I would remember what made me love you.
But like all things that need sweeping and clearing, it did not. We did not. And it started long ago when I confessed to sleeping with a woman. I did not take the time to understand how the newness of the news shaped you. Changed you. Cut you open and split you at the seams. From that day, nothing was the same. There was no going back.
You ran after God, sure that if you caught him, the pain that you felt would dissipate. Prayerful that if you caught him, that I would not be who I am versus who I was. You thought that if you could attack God fiercely and dig deep enough to learn all there is to know of him, that I would change. And there would be another woman and another and then you again. Because you had a part of me that no one else could get.
The mountain in me sloped intensely and I knew one day, you would get tired of risking your life to reach the top. I was selfish then. I wanted what I wanted and could get it without much effort. That is the downside to being young, manipulative, and weak. We do not realize the damage done to others until the same begins to happen to us. Someone said they saw you happy, that you asked of me in a way that sounded more like you wondering if I was finally happy too, rather than truly wanting to know of me — of my life.
I was happy to hear that you settled again. That you are still preaching, leading a flock to fields of endless dreams. You are still chasing God. All the while oblivious to the fact that you had Him in you the whole time.
If I ever see you again, years from today, moons from tomorrow, I would tell you to climb the mountain once more and take special care this time.
She’ll probably let you reach the top.
I’ve got a seed in the ground
That he’s blessing
No more stressing.
I’ve got a seed in the ground
And it’s growing
Now it’s showing.
This is my season, for grace for favor.
This is my season to reap what I have sown.
Originally published in A Cornered Gurl via Medium
The Battles We Create For Ourselves
Are The Ones That Break Us
By design, we are all different yet beautiful. Coming out is teaching me what unconditional love is. What life outside of a box feels like. The more I share with my family and friends, the more I am finding out, “but you know I knew that already, right?” And no, I had no idea my family knew the inner-workings of my heart, of my soul. I am rather private. For the most part, I keep to myself. I am significantly older than all of my siblings, so much of what I experienced growing up, they did not.
They looked up to me, yes, I knew that. But, I did not know how closely they were watching me. According to my brother TJ upon me asking, “When did you think you knew?”
“I don’t mean no disrespect sis, but I knew when I was little. I mean, I ain’t never really seen you with no boyfriends except that one dude that everybody liked. I thought, maybe my sister likes women. And then later, when you started dating that bald-headed guy like three years ago, I thought — oh, my sister still likes men. I see no difference in you, sis. I’m gonna love you anyway.
To this, I laughed. I am nine years older than TJ. He and I are quite close. Most people say, he looks a lot like me and really, I think that as well. Most of us have strong features that link up, however, I am told he and our kid sister looks most like me. I found his comment the best way of his expression. Of how he began thinking his big sister was not heterosexual. He has a big heart too and is sensitive in ways that my other brothers are not. As a toddler, he was one who would cry at the drop of a hat. I knew then that he would sincerely be connected to his emotions, unafraid to share, or one willing to listen when listening is of the utmost importance. I was hoping I would be right.
I Am Right In My Assessment.
I know there will be hills that I will ache from climbing, someone will voice their opinion, will Bible-thump me with scriptures they have twisted to fit their model of beliefs and display not one modicum of common sense, but I am in a position to not let that keep me from being me. I have no control over the thoughts of others and my journey into this new life is not the responsibility of anyone but my own. I am tired of limiting myself to being with who I want when I want, yet “in the dark,” cut-off from everyone else. I am tired of waving happiness away because of a way of life that most of my religious upbringing planned for me.
I Never Fit Into That Box
So, why was I constantly trying to keep myself there? I created a war within me. The battles I fought needed heavy armor and up against myself, I was not winning. I was only breaking and withering away. A revelation hit me, that caused me to say, “You know what? You want to be happy, be who you are. Do not think about it, Tre, just do it.” And after that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of FINALLY! My heart slowed down its beating. I could breathe better.
“Cousin, I believe this is gonna help you so much in relieving the depression and anxiety you have been dealing with for years. You are learning that it is okay to be you.” ©Akua
And it is okay to fully be me. I have made a pact with myself. A personal declaration that I intend to stand by, to etch into my skin. I will make my life easier by being who I am and nothing more. I looked at myself in the mirror and declared that. I meant it.
I Am Focused.
I carry the strength of powerful women in my bones, women who will cut you with their eyes then tell you to get over it without a trimmer in their voice. Women who have been fighting for me without my knowledge. Women who will look you in your eyes and tell you while they stand on flat feet and shiftless legs, “you’re lying.” A long line of women who have stepped forward and said,
“You better be who you are while you still can.”
I Will.
Just bees and things and flowers
Just bees and things and flowers
Just bees and things and flowers
My life. My Life. My life. My Life
In the sunshine
Everybody loves the sunshine.
Originally published in Other Doors via Medium.
The Blood Of Old Souls
Part VI: Lemuel
Lemuel’s eyes are fixed on the broken sky. His big sister Cassie is planning to sneak out again tonight. This will be the fifth night in a row. Lemuel is not a snitch, but he’s been itching to get Cassie into trouble since she ratted him out for eating the last thin crust pizza, their Mom’s favorite. This behavior is not what he expects from Cassie, she’s never jumped ship on a “babysitting” gig before. Although Lemuel was thirteen and could practically fend for himself, he was blind. Their parents depended on Cassie to make sure Lemuel’s well-being was positively maintained.
“I’ll be back. I put some leftover barbecue chicken in the oven for you. The timer is set for thirty minutes. I’ve heated up the mashed potatoes and the spinach only needs two minutes in the microwave. Don’t forget to take the aluminum cover off this time, Lemuel. For God’s sake, just don’t.”
Lemuel nodded in his sister’s direction and did not utter a word. The timer dinged, signifying the sweet morsels of honey-glazed barbecue chicken and Lemuel skirted his way into the kitchen. In the dark, dank, confines of the tiny space, he could hear soft whispers,
“Tattletales go to Hell.”
Lemuel ignored the whispers, surely he needed rest. He devoured his dinner, remembering to remove the aluminum cover on the spinach. Before he could swallow the last bite, he heard the chant once more. This time, it filled the walls and filled the cracks in the floor. Lemuel’s parents came barging in the door, one after the other. Lemuel couldn’t wait to let them know about Cassie leaving every night this week when she was supposed to be overseeing his care.
The voices grew louder and louder. Lemuel’s parents gazed at the boy, finally believing his days were numbered. “Cassie isn’t here. I don’t know where she is. And, she’s been leaving every night this week.” He felt a sense of pride revealing his sister’s secret.
“Tattletales go to Hell.”
Lemuel pointed to nowhere in particular as the voices grew louder and louder. He smiled in his parents’ direction and bit down lightly on his tongue before opening his mouth.
“Cassie, she’s been…”
Thunder roared, the floor in their kitchen shook, and hands erupted from beneath Lemuel and his legs were the first to disappear. The souls pulled Lemuel under while his parents watched him sink in a fiery heap.
At that very moment, Cassie walked in. The only thing she could think to say was,
A Cornered Gurl 
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