As I was walking to the train station after 8+ hours on my feet as a steward for Pride in London I had a mum compliment me on my shoes and ask me where I got them (I was wearing my converse Chuck Taylor All Star Pride Low Tops which have a rainbow sole). Throughout our brief conversation as we walked up to Waterloo she had her arm wrapped around her son, a young man only just starting to pass her in height and rocking some fierce blue eyeshadow for pride. Before we parted ways she said something which had me fighting tears as I sat on the train home a few minutes later.

She thanked me for volunteering in the parade and for everything that I had done which made things a little easier for her son now.

And as I sat on the train I couldn’t help but think about the fact that I didn’t come out until I was thirty and so really she didn’t have anything to thank me for. With my feet aching and my heart full I reflected on how fucking grateful I am that others have fought where I couldn’t so that things are easier for her son and those of his generation, on how much more open and accepting we are as a society and how far some spaces have to go. The slogan for Pride London this year was Pride Jubilee, honouring 50 years of queer revolt. Pride was a protest and a riot before it was a celebration and I would argue that it’s still a protest disguised as a celebration. It’s a fight that has been fought by those on the margins and led by queer people of colour. It’s very existence is a political act as those that identify as part of the community assert their right to exist and take up space in the world. It’s made up of people that have been fighting for decades to love who they want to love, those that are closeted and those that have just come out. It’s companies trying to make a quick buck off of the ‘pink dollar’ and it’s organizations making tangible change in the world and individuals lives. It’s protests, and counter protests, and glitter, and dancing, and fringe groups, and allies, and balloons, and so, so many rainbows. And as London passed me by I logged into instagram and read the lovely messages that were sent in response to the stories I had been posting throughout the day at the parade. I also received a message which reminded me of why I am doing what I do now. 

To be honest I’m surprised that I don’t get more messages like that one. Messages telling me how Jesus died so that we can turn away from sin and that if we approve of the sin we are not loving God. It took me several hours to respond to the message, firstly because I didn’t want to respond in anger, and then because I struggled with finding words to say that wouldn’t start an argument because really the whole thing just made me sad. Not sad for myself, I am secure in who I am and my relationship with God within that. But sad that so many within the Christian community still feel this way, that you could think that you have been afflicted with this ‘thing’ that you will have to struggle with the rest of your life or that you would place the burden of that belief onto someone else.

Even in a city as large as London there are very few openly LGBTQ affirming churches, while many may state that they welcome anyone in to worship there is a very clear astrix attached to that statement. Anyone can worship but they can’t be involved past a certain point, anyone can worship but they can’t lead, anyone can worship but they are viewed as a sinner that must be loved ‘in spite’ of their sexual orientation or gender identity. This includes where I choose to attend now. I attend knowing these restrictions likely apply even if they are not stated explicitly and that does come at a cost.

The message that this gives is so damaging and it isn’t any great surprise to me that LGBTQ teens that come up in these Christian contexts are eight times more likely to commit suicide. In the U.K the Oasis foundation stated that the Church is one of the biggest sources of direct discrimination against those within the LGBTQ community. The report also called for the church to “accept the role it has, however unintentionally, played in the poor mental and physical health of LGBT people including anxiety, depression, and ultimately a risk to their physical health and even their lives.” I know that for myself I was so repressed and had burried my sexuality so deeply that I couldn’t even acknowledge to myself that I was bisexual until I was in my mid-twenties, and I don’t doubt that much of the social anxiety and depression I faced in my teens directly correlated with this worldview.

I have to question your theology if with one hand you can declare how good God is, how he has created us in his image, with purpose and love while with the other you state that attraction to people of the same gender is a sin that must be denied and turned away from. How cruel would God be to demand the denial of something that you had no control over. To declare that you must deny who you love and live a life where you are not allowed to be in a committed and supportive relationship that is life giving and emotionally healthy because that person is of the same gender as you. That your sexuality is something that can be prayed away or requires healing from so that you can be whole. That states if this healing doesn’t happen then your sexuality has simply become a burden that you must carry for the rest of your life, a test to your faithfulness and a marker of your purity and obedience. That is not loving, that is abusive.

I have to believe that God cares more about how I conduct myself in a relationship than the gender of the person that the relationship is with. If they challenge me, and support me, and help me grow closer to God then I simply cannot see it as something inherently sinful. I am very intentional in labeling myself as both Bisexual and Christian because my very act of existing unapologetically within either of those spaces, both queer and christian, while holding both labels is a radical act and I hope that it helps to create space for others to do the same.  I may not have done much fighting up until recently but I’ll be damned if I’m going to be silent now.

If God has created me, that means all of me including my sexuality. God is love, no exceptions, no astrix.