Happy Pride, Y’all!

In December of 2019, before the world was turned upside down by Covid-19, I was huddled on a couch in Cincinnati with Andrea and two of our best friends, also queer women. We were gathered at our friends’ house to watch, you guessed it, the reboot of the iconic show, The L Word.

We had been anxiously awaiting the premiere of the show for lots of reasons, but primarily because the show is all about queer women, and despite the fact that it was 2019, authentic queer representation in the media was still hard to come by. It still is today.

So, imagine my surprise when, in the third episode of the show, a love interest of one of the core cast members turns out to be a priest! I actually cried. Despite the fact that the character’s run on the show was relatively short lived, I had never felt more seen. Rebecca, the character, was a young, queer woman, who had a normal social life (after all, she met the other character, Finley, at a bar) and she was an ordained priest. She was bucking stereotypes about queer people and about Christians all in one fell swoop. I was living for it.

Unfortunately, Rebecca’s story line goes down an all-too-familiar path: Finley can’t get past the fact that Rebecca is a priest. She carries too much hurt and shame from her religious upbringing to be able to have a relationship with someone who works for the church, or even who claims to be a Christian.

Their short relationship highlights the tension that still exists between the Church and the queer community. The Church has caused so much pain in the lives of queer people, for so long, that many queer people still believe that being a Christian and being queer are irreconcilable. So, to see these two identities converge on one character on one television show was enough to bring me to tears.

It also raises the question, for me, about why this is so rare.

On the show, Rebecca says “I’m actually more closeted about being Christian than I am about being queer.”

It’s hard to claim a Christian identity in a society that often equates that identity with bigotry and homophobia (as well as a bevy of other sins,) but when we keep that part of our identity hidden, we lose the opportunity to bear witness to the truth that God loves queer people, and honors queer identity, and rejoices in queer love.

When we claim our identity as followers of Christ alongside our affirmation of queer communities, we offer proof that being Christian and authentically loving queer people are actually compatible. And I’m here to tell you that even in 2021, even in The Episcopal Church, and even in the Bay Area, that can be life changing for queer people who have been hurt by the Church. It can, quite literally, save lives.

We’re called to bear witness to the overwhelming love of Jesus Christ in the world. I wonder how each of us might do that as we celebrate Pride this year?

In peace,

Maggie+

p.s. want more of Maggie’s story? Check out her sermon from the Great Vigil of Easter, 2022.