My husband Jim thinks in images, not words. This makes communication at home, uhm, “interesting” sometimes! I can ask a question, receive an answer, and discover Jim meant the exact opposite of the answer given. “Words Matter!” I exclaim. Jim shrugs, and we laugh about it.
As Pride month draws to a close, I, too, need to be reminded that words matter. We have an increasing number of staff, parishioners, and friends of the congregation who use they/them pronouns because their gender is outside the gender binary imposed by society. This has been true of some people throughout human history, and some AfroIndigenous and Asian cultures more readily understand this diversity today than most of us in the West.
Since the age of Aquinas in the 13th century, we have been taught to think that if something is not this, it is that. The reality is sometime something is not this or that, but both, or neither, or something else. Science and lived experience has shown this to be true of human gender, as well.
I have been heartened that those who are non-binary in our congregation are loved as people and companions on the way and whose contributions are valued, but I have also heard us struggle with the use of the “singular they” when told those are their pronouns.
For most of us, me included, the struggle is because our brains have been hardwired for decades to not do that. To say “Peter went to the store. They brought back ice cream” can make the grammarian cringe. It takes time and intentionality to re-wire the brain. That is just neuro-science. We will not always get it right, but it is imperative that we honor the identity of another and strive to do right by them.
Language evolves. There is no objectively eternal right or wrong. Both William Shakespeare and Jane Austen used the “singular they” on occasion. We cannot claim they spoke poor English!
However, I have a personal story about why this is not a linguistics issue, and why words matter. Those of us in the LGBTQ+ community have been denied the use of words that describe our experiences and our lives. This has helped keep us invisible and has created environments where we question whether we really belong.
I cringe when I hear somebody refer to my “lifestyle choice” when I know who and how I love is not a choice, but a life-giving part of my biological, psychological, and spiritual reality.
In my lifetime, the socially accepted language for the person to whom I have dedicated my life has gone from “Lover” (which focuses on only one aspect of a relationship), to “Long-Time Companion” (used by the New York Times in the 1980s, and which could also refer to my Siamese cat!), to “Partner” when Civil Unions became legal (when did we become a law firm or business?), to “Husband” when we were able to get married.
Yet, I have also been told with great insistence that I cannot be married because the word marriage by definition means male and female. Therefore, what I have is something other than (less than) a marriage.
The words that those in the LGBTQ+ community hear, that people of color hear, that women hear, that immigrants hear, that other marginalized peoples hear let us know whether or not we really belong.
If we give any sort of legitimacy or respect to the person denying us those words, we may start to question whether or not they are right. Maybe my experience is not real. Maybe I really should not be honest. Maybe I do not belong. The effort it takes to claim one’s space in a culture that does not always want to adapt is exhausting. Some give up. Others persist and are accused of being strident simply when all they expect is what those who fit the stereotyped norm already enjoy - the dignity that should be afforded to every human being.
I have always found the Episcopal Church to be a welcoming place, and my congregation to be my second home. Quite frankly, it was because of my congregation in South Carolina in the 1980s as a college student that I felt safe and able to come out. I have always found my own niche within the church. Jim and I have been loved by the people of St. Peter’s and we are deeply grateful for the opportunity to serve here.
But I also know that there are places and people within the church with whom I simply should not be out. I remember being advised by a trusted black, gay friend when I went to my first congregation, “Be very careful about how you let people know you are gay, because the African-American male already feels emasculated enough.”
I also remember how a family of six (mother with five kids, four of whom I baptized) left my congregation the day after I invited the congregation to celebrate with Jim and me our Civil Union. She was a human right’s attorney for the New York City Housing Authority. She could handle the law. She could not accept her priest had a partner. I felt responsible that our Vestry was down one person and that our acolyte program was cut in half when the family left. Fortunately, the rest of the congregation loved me through that time.
I remember being the first choice for dean of the Cathedral of a diocese in the mid-west but not getting the call because a prominent parishioner said they would walk if I was called. Ultimately, the Bishop had to appoint the next dean. It was the right choice, though, because “We know that all things work together for the good for those who love God, who are called according to God's purpose.” (Romans 8:28) They have done good work and are thriving, and I got to come to St. Peter’s, which is a far better place for me spiritually and vocationally.
Those are just pieces of my story. I have had many blessings along the way, so the overall story is a good story. A very good story. My most treasured memory was being hugged by a parishioner at my first partner’s funeral as she told me that our relationship had been a better icon of the vows of marriage than they had seen among several of their straight friends. We have allies. And all we can do is make our witness.
So, back to the pronouns. The US and the Episcopal Church have done much good work in welcoming all people, and in making it possible for many in the LGBTQ+ community to feel valued and loved. But work still has to be done.
A congregation will not be taken seriously as a welcoming place by the LGBTQ+ community, even with a married gay priest and a non-binary music director, if it does not move beyond the LBG to also include the TQ+. Quite frankly, it is not just those in the LGBTQ+ community and their allies. Many young people will not take faith communities seriously if we are not welcoming, affirming, and safe for all identities. Full Stop.
For those who are non-binary, this means learning to use the pronouns that most affirm their identity. We need to create a safe space for those who are trans, non-binary, gender queer, genderfluid, gender variant, and all gender expansive folks to feel welcome to let us know their presence and their preferences. We need to honor those requests when they do. It is commonplace for those who are gender diverse and their cisgender (those who claim the gender assigned at birth) allies to include their preferred pronouns after their names on rosters and in Zooms. Some allies will also use "they/them" in solidarity.
Many of us will also slip up. I do. All the time. Sometimes I do not notice and am reminded. Other times, I catch myself and immediately correct myself. We are human, not perfect. What matters is that we try, and the more we try the easier it becomes.
I cannot tell you what a gift it is to give a person the genuine experience of being valued, loved, and welcomed regardless of who they are, how they understand themselves, and whom they love. Churches that model this are oases in the desert. I can also tell you that communities that genuinely welcome, honor, and bless those who fall outside societal norms have friends for life who are fiercely dedicated to the ongoing mission of that community.
Ultimately, it is not that we have to change. It is that we, as a church that says “all are welcome,” learn to live more fully into the meaning of those words. We become what we aspire to be. We do so in the name of Christ, and the embrace we offer (and receive back) are the arms of Christ. And through that, Christ continues to heal the world.
Blessings Always!
Dirk+
Resources for further reading:
The Episcopal Church's webpage on LGBTQ+ life and history in the Episcopal Church:
https://www.episcopalchurch.org/who-we-are/lgbtq/
An Episcopal News Service Article on Prince Month:
For many LGBTQ Episcopalians, the struggle for full inclusion is not over – it’s expanded
TransEpiscopal's Resources for Embracing Nonbinary Folks:
http://www.transepiscopal.org/nonbinary.html
Grammarly's discussion on the history of the use of "the singular they."
https://www.grammarly.com/blog/use-the-singular-they/