*I’ve always honored spirituality over religion. I wasn’t raised in the church and yet I knew I could always talk to God. I have fond memories of my grandparents sporadically taking me to church with my aunts and uncle. I didn’t understand the pastor’s sermons on the “abomination” of same-sex relations, with fire and brimstone, but somehow I knew his words pertained to me. As I matured, the judgmental rhetoric pushed me further and further away from the church.
I knew I was different from other little girls at a young age. I liked girls. I didn’t understand what that meant in terms of societal norms but I knew it wasn’t good. I often overheard adults talk about the “bull dykes” or “bull daggers” (derogatory terms for lesbians) in the neighborhood. They called them nasty; they said they were going to hell. Their voices became whispers as they hissed about how those women didn’t know God.
I began to question the ideals that were forced upon me regarding religion, spirituality and homosexuality. Will God love me if I question religion? Is spirituality more important than religion? Does God love gays and lesbians? I struggled with the broad view that gays and lesbians don’t have a relationship with God. I realized that among many self-confessed Christians, sins are cherry-picked to fit personal, religious and political agendas.
I observed the differences between how people presented themselves versus who they really were. I thought of an individual from my childhood who I will never forget. I never knew his real name, but everyone called him “Spooney.” He was a drag queen who lived with his mother. Spooney had to be at least six feet tall with the most beautiful legs I had ever seen. He was known to hum church hymns as he sat on his front stoop. He was also known to sprint across the courtyard at dawn in booty shorts and high heels. My grandmother said he was trying to get home before anyone saw him “dressed like a damned fool.” He must have recognized something in me because he always looked out after me. He would lean out the window, watching the kids play. His deep baritone voice always startled me. He said, “All right now, missy. Get your little self home before these street lights come on!” Spooney seemed like a kind and gentle man. And yet, he was shunned within the community because of his sexual identity.
Contrarily, the fair-skinned, green-eyed bass player of the church choir was the talk of the village. My grandmother and her neighbors could not stop talking about how “Godly” Kent was. My stomach turned whenever I heard his name. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as I thought of the many times he tried to lure me into his mother’s apartment with a bribe of ice cream.
As I matured, I was ashamed for turning away from the church. I began to look inward. During some of my darkest hours, I realized that I could not lean on anyone but God. I had to let go of my ego and surrender to God’s will and not my own. There were people in my life who questioned the spiritual transformation they witnessed in me. I recall a conversation with a heterosexual acquaintance. She said, “When did you become so holier than thou? Are you still in that life?” I took a deep breath before responding. I said, “If you can ask me a question like that, knowing what I’ve been through, then you don’t know me at all!”
My relationship with God has become stronger with each burden I’ve endured. Yet, I am still baffled by my heterosexual counterparts who question my relationship with God. I always try to find humor in challenging situations. I couldn’t help but think of my favorite video on YouTube. A father asks his young son, who is struggling to fasten his car seat belt, if he needs help. The little boy continues to tussle with the seat belt as he answers, “No … Thank you. No … Thank you.” His father asks him, “What do you want me to do?” Without looking up, the little boy says, “Worry ‘bout yourself!”
And that is the first thought that pops into my head when questioned about my relationship with God: Worry ‘bout yourself!
Monika M. Pickett is a veteran of the United States Army. Her debut novel, PRETTY BOY BLUE, is available on Amazon. Pickett is an Advocate and Activist for the LGBTQ community. For more information please visit, www.MonikaMPickett.com. For other inquiries email [email protected]
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