I wish I could but I cannot offer you absolution Forgiveness is not mine to grant I am not the one you left aside For things she could not change And so I offer you what I can As one who shares part of her path Your affirmation of Your lived out commitment to equality for The whole of the LGBTQ+ community Is seen and known by those within I know that cannot take away Your grief Or your regret But ... May you find comfort knowing Your words and actions matter You make the world safer A better place for those still here And ... Somehow, somewhere I believe she knows You chose to follow the path of love Because of her
Tag Archives: queer
It’s Time
It’s time Time for me to make clear Something I thought Was obvious when I wrote The Price of Hate Most understood Some asked questions To clarify rather Than make assumptions On that day And on the days since I have felt Unconditional support And love Overwhelming love Healing love Soaking in to places broken For far too long But today In the midst of Bathroom bills In the aftermath of Orlando In the facebook posts Run rampant It is apparent Some of you missed What I said Or ignored What I said Or forgot What I said Or didn’t care What I said So let me be Perfectly Crystally Entirely Explicitly Proudly Clear I am not straight. I. Am. Queer. Perfectly Crystally Entirely Explicitly Proudly Queer It is not your business To know why I claim That particular word I am a private person My sex life My love life My romantic desires Are none of your concern It is enough for you to know I am queer And have always been Even when I didn’t Acknowledge or Understand or Speak that truth So when I say What I need to say In this moment Today I hope your ears Are open to hear You are someone who Matters to me Whose friendship I value A relationship I hope Can continue But … When you speak hate When share hate When you keep silent In the face of hate Toward anyone Who is Lesbian Gay Bisexual Transgender Asexual Aromatic Pansexual Intersex Gender Fluid Gender Neutral Two Spirit Non-Binary Queer And any other letter In the gloriously Rainbow coloured alphabet That makes up The people I claim as siblings When you tolerate hate Against my family You are speaking hate Against me It is not Against an unknown evil With an agenda Contrary to God’s will You are spewing hate At someone you Have known for years Someone you once called Family Classmate Student Colleague Youth Leader Mentor Pastor Friend Or whatever other label You choose to apply to What we shared What connected us And yes Sharing posts Making comments Supporting political movements In the name of religious belief that Vilify Misgender Stigmatize Deny rights to Denigrate Dehumanize Is speaking hate You are entitled to Your theology Your belief Your point of view Your fear Your emotional reaction To something you Don’t understand or Don’t experience or Don’t acknowledge You are not entitled To use any of Those reasons To lessen The innate value Of another human being To take away rights To block protections to Ensure safety To make someone else’s life Harder to live Be grateful For the privilege You have never needed To realize you have Use that privilege Make the world Safer for all people Do what the God You claim commanded Act justly Love mercy Walk humbly with your God Defend the oppressed Love your neighbor as yourself If you can’t If you won’t Don’t be surprised When I decide to Prioritize the well-being of My rainbow family Over your need to Prove you are Righteous and faithful At the cost of Our mental health Our dignity Our lives
I first wrote, recorded and hit publish on this poem in June 2016.
It’s been bouncing around in my head these last few weeks as a rising tide of hate keeps sweeping across the U.S. and is also quite visible in Canada too. I almost decided to update the poem, but then someone might think this is a new phenomenon. It’s not and it wasn’t when I wrote it, but I was new to it. As someone who’d only been out for two years.
I’d never recorded me speaking one of my poems before, but it is too easy for people, especially within the Christian community, to share and make what they think are “innocent comments” without realizing the impact it has on real people that they actually know, so I wanted to make sure there was a human face to these words.
For those who are prepared to engage in respectful dialogue, I welcome your thoughts and am prepared to engage in that conversation with you. I lived and pastored in the evangelical church world, I know that moving away from what we were taught is hard and scary and feels like it must be wrong. The thing I can say now (that I couldn’t have said back in 2016) is God is still here, outside the box we were taught God belonged in. There is good fruit and there is community with other people of Christian faith that gives spaces for questions and being all of who you are.
However, please be aware that your “theological questions” are my day-to-day life. As such, I may choose to disengage from the discussion and/or block your involvement, if the conversation turns from respectful engagement and generous spaciousness.
Also, in case it wasn’t clear, from the poem, the existence, humanity and dignity of 2SLGBTQIA+ people is not up for debate nor is the existence of faithful 2SLGBTQIA+ Christians.
Excavating Faith
I need to try, I need to make an attempt to put into words, to even come close to describing how it feels, what it means, to be able to begin to reclaim part of my journey set aside left behind, because it felt no longer mine it belonged to someone I no longer was the good little baptist girl both the one who only pretended belief hoping to belong and the one who truly believed, who chose her path who followed a calling, who made that her life how could it belong to me, the queer me, the one know I am now so I did what I do best, compartmentalize it away (forty years of practice, it is my default coping skill) out of my story like it never was real like my story of faith began the day I walked my queer self back into a church drastically different from what I'd known drawn by a longing I didn't understand, didn't want, and couldn't ignore any other option hurt too much, too complicated too confusing, too tied up in an understanding of faith that calls me heretic, unrepentant sinner, damned to hell for learning to love who I was created to be, who I always was for not being able to tick the required boxes of belief for being unapologetically queer problem is those parts of my journey have shaped me they inform who I am, what I believe they've left scars that make me hesitant to trust, to engage some from bad theology, some from my conscious choice to cut myself off from my history and put that part of my life back into a closet but then ... music and a way of being church that feels familiar brings unexpected tears, a longing for something I miss? this church so different, not in form, but in practice this place, this choir, this priest welcomes all of you always - no hiding required then ... unpacking boxes moved more than once paper and books and music from a lifetime long past much let go, it no longer serves, definitely doesn't spark joy but at the piano not touched in years too tied up with the life no longer mine I wander through the song books fingers touch keys stumbling at first but finding confidence tears stream, voice breaks, fingers cease their motion the same lyrics that spoke before speak more loudly now God knew the truth of who I was when I had no conscious clue the words that showed me truth then still show me truth now that I was known and loved before I knew myself my queer self hidden but there and known and loved in the me pretending to believe in the me following a calling to serve in the me who thought that part of life gone, never to return it's still mine but I hear the words differently now it's easier to hear when you're not hiding I explore more, give myself permission to connect to try an expression of faith closer to what I knew before it's terrifying, but there is being known, being seen for who I am there is welcome and compassion and people who understand I breathe more deeply than in the six years since I found my way back to faith more fully than I have in the ten years since I wrote my way out of the closet the first time Six years ago on a Saturday night Christmas Eve, I accidentally found my way home Six years later on another Saturday night Christmas Eve, I found my way home again on four separate paths one for the part of me that was Pastor Karen to my kiddos now long grown to adulthood one that feels like the home where I found my own faith the first time one for the part of me that revels in worship contemporary and free one that is home where my queer self found faith again maybe I don't need those from earlier in my journey to accept who I am now though some have and I am grateful for that grace maybe I need to give myself permission to be all of who I am not only as queer me but as queer me whose journey of faith looks like more than one single path
It’s taken me since Christmas Eve to put this into something that feels close to capturing the shift that’s been happening.
With much gratitude to those who have been pastors, guides, mentors and friends along the path in all of its parts. There are too many to name, but some, both recent and so very not recent, need special mention for their part in my faith journey over the years and especially in these last few months.
To Devona, to my Spring Garden family back in the day (John, Rick, Margaret and Blake), to Wilkie, to Gene, to Shannon and Brian, to my St. John’s home now (Alastair, Patrick, Gillian, Kevin, Bill, Ruth, Stephanie and John), to Daniel, to Matt and the Monday night crew.
Untitled – December 6, 2022
I remember
with crystal clarity
the moment I knew
not broken just
Queer
years of feeling
not enough
unknown, afraid
no matter how hard I tried
still somehow
not right, not who I should be
I'd found my way out
out of the world inside the closet
I didn't know I was living in
I know now I'm not
inherently broken
but years of broken
sinful humanity
years of so broken
Jesus had to die
to make me worthy of love
so broken ...
it leaves scars
scars I ignore
or try to forget
or pretend don't exist
until ...
someone speaks truth
about the brokenness of
theology that hates and fears
something shifts
just a tiny bit
but enough I can feel
enough I can breathe more fully
---------------------
With gratitude to the person who told me: “The broken ones are those who fear so much they hate. … I hope you continue to heal from being treated like you were broken by people who are broken; and finding peace and joy in being all that you are.”
Most of the time I know what the title is for something I’ve written, but not for this one. Maybe it has no name because I didn’t plan to write, but I also couldn’t ignore the need to put pen to paper and capture what felt like an almost imperceptible shift that mattered in ways I’m not sure I have words yet to express.
The Price of Hate
I wanted to do this
In my own time
To wait until I was ready
Until I had the answers
Rather than questions
I’m still asking myself
I wanted to do this
When I felt secure
To wait until I’d talked
With those I owe
Deep levels of trust
To share face to face
Or at least Skype to Skype
I wanted to do this
After I’d told my family
To wait until the perfect moment
Had revealed itself
And I was ready for
Every potential response
I wanted to do this
When I knew how to explain
Forty years of truth
Buried so deep
All I knew was brokenness
There is an awkwardness in
Maintaining silence
My safety net of procrastination
Wrapped tightly
Trying to contain the
Chaos of rediscovery
But something happened
Ten thousand children
Thrown away
And my silence feels like complicity
My safety net of waiting
Feels wrapped around my throat
Taking away my breath
Cutting off the words I ache to speak
There is no right time
I may never be ready
I may never be able to explain
There is only the moment now
And in this moment
My safety net must unravel
Else I lose the ability to speak
Heart broken
Ten thousand children
That’s how much some people hate
People who also claim belief in a god
Whose very scriptures teach
Love your neighbour as yourself
Care for orphans and widows
In their distress
Ten thousand children
Starving and in need
Support ripped out from
Under their precious lives
An act of hate
Called righteousness
In the name of protecting
Orthodoxy
From the scourge
Of homosexuality
How can people
Called to be like the god they claim
Who has named himself Love
Hate us at such a price to
Ten thousand children
Tears fall as words flow
Years of learning
Straight was right
Queer was sin
My heart breaks
Am I the only one
Who feels the stab of
Soul-crushing guilt
As if my existence
Is somehow to blame for
Ten thousand children
Dropped in a heartbeat of hatred
When one organization
Makes the tiniest movement
Towards acknowledging our rights
As human beings
Created in the image
Of the divine
This is also the price of hate
But unlike ten thousand children
I have a choice
I will not pay their price
I will not take on that guilt
Being queer does not
Equal broken
Nor does it mean excluded
From the faith of my childhood
I will stand up
I will proudly claim my truth
I will meet their fear
With love
For myself
For the world around me
Even for those who hate
Together may we stand in the gap
For ten thousand innocent children
—–
If you haven’t heard about what happened that caused ten thousand children to lose their sponsors through World Vision in the United States because a powerful group of people who call themselves Christians decided fighting against gay rights was more important than caring for the most vulnerable among us, you can read the details here, here or here, just to point you to a few.
I already sponsor a child through Compassion Canada whom I plan to continue sponsoring until she ages out of the program. I am pondering sponsoring another child through World Vision Canada which follows Canadian laws regarding non-discrimination.
—–
I first posted this poem on my blog [yes, the name of that blog used to be here but now it’s not] on April 7, 2014. Sharing the post on facebook was my coming out. I am so grateful for the love and support I have received from family and friends.
Glimpses
I hear a whispered voice
Full of childlike wonder
Excited to be in this place
To be with these people
To know her mother belongs
And by extension so does she
Her mother smiles
And quietly speaks
The queer community
It’s large and diverse
I see the smile on her face
Reflecting the joy
Radiating from her child’s face
Unobserved I find myself
Smiling in return
I understand the wonder
My eyes mirror the same
Standing in line
Quietly I watch
Sweet and so earnest
Yet wary to meet another’s eye
Trepidation visible in every pore
Would someone question
The choice of gendered washroom
What assumptions are being made
Our eyes quickly catch
I smile in welcome
Older femme to young, baby butch
I know the fear of assumptions made
Wish I had known myself that well
When I was still so young
My eyes are drawn in
Beautiful woman leans over
Shares a gentle kiss
With her much loved wife
Their tenderness obvious
Telegraphed across the distance
Of the sold-out theatre
My heart expands
With hope
Possibilities newly dreamed
The crowd is diverse
Encompassing gender, age
Sexuality and race
But visible across the spectrum
Whatever initial each of us claim
Our queerness is celebrated
Proudly proclaimed
In this space any need
To hide or pass
Far from our minds
These are our people
Music born from stories
That we call our own
—–
Primarily written during intermission at the Tegan and Sara concert early in March 2014.
Afraid
My brain says
It’s no one’s business
But my own
Why do I need
To tell everyone
Their assumptions
About me are
Flawed
Why should I need
To announce
I’m queer
Not straight
Why can’t I simply
Live my life
Love who I love
With no need of
Explanation
On the surface
That path should be
Available
Completely reasonable
My sexuality
Is my business
The only other
Who needs to know
Someone I have not met
Yet
My heart says
I can’t move beyond
Dreaming
If I’m afraid to claim
The truth of who I am
If I’m afraid of
Needing to explain
Forty-thee years of denying
Forty-three years of hiding
Not just from them
But even harder
To comprehend
From myself
That’s the question
I don’t want to answer
How could I
Live my life
So completely
Unaware
Repressed
Oblivious
Hidden
Lost
Broken
Afraid
Striving
To be someone
I never have been
Rather than being
The me
The world around
Said was sinner
Flawed
Disgusting
Abomination
Hated by God
So I hid
So deep
In such darkness
It took
Forty-three years
To find my way back
To myself
But I am still afraid
Tonight
two months ago
life felt different
I felt different
walking into the theatre
excited to hear the music of
Amy and Emily, the Indigo Girls
I knew who I was
what I was
but felt like
an interloper
not a fraud, but unsure
could I possibly belong
afraid to make eye contact
afraid someone might see me
ask questions I was
afraid to answer
yet, I felt at home
a sense of kinship
of commonality
wanting to pitch a tent
stay until the dawn came
afraid the moment
would slip away
never to return
tonight 
walking into the café
excited to hear the stories of
Ivan E. Coyote and S. Bear Bergman
I am confident
in my own skin
I primped, I preened
enjoying the feel of my hair
savouring each moment
dressing to please myself
open to another’s gaze
curious, ready to explore
should the opportunity arise
but on my terms
not desperately seeking
hoping the attention
of some man, any man,
would mark me as acceptable
tonight I know
I am queer
I am femme
I am enough
One Choice
Artwork in photograph by Kelly Rae Roberts
terrified
of not belonging
lesson learned in childhood
stepping outside
the expected path
will leave you
bereft
your longed-for blue
five speed bicycle
returned and no place
for you
at the family table
you understand the story
of your past
daily seeking a new path
of faith that belongs
to you
despite the inherent
familial tension
springing from
choice made necessary
to survive
with soul intact
freedom found
in learning to listen to
your body
your heart
your soul
reveals stories
buried deep
hidden from all eyes
even your own
your truth denied
in the world
you grew in no
other possibility existed
never imagining
your reality could be
so entirely different
from the life
you learned to live
hiding brokenness
never healed
blamed on fear
of always being
on the outside
now you have
family of choice
circle of belonging
sense of community
rarely experienced before
but they don’t know
your truth
closeted away beyond
even your own gaze
childhood terror steals
your breath
your words
when you ponder
revealing the truth
you’ve now begun to own as
My Truth
fear of exclusion
rejection
losing your place
in the circle of trust
you’ve struggled to find
will they feel betrayed
is there possibility
of understanding
acceptance
embrace
in the midst of
your bewilderment
forty-three years
of hiding your truest self
so far away
you didn’t understand
all your efforts would
never fix you
the core wasn’t broken
you were just queer
trying desperately to live
an expected straight life
not your own
the dilemma you face
explore your truth
loudly and proudly
risking the place
you’ve finally found
hoping you still
belong
or
keep the life
you’ve built
stay quiet, hidden
pretending contentment
losing yourself
bit by bit
slowly dying inside
only one choice
for living exists
simple survival insufficient
fullness of life
once glimpsed
must be embraced
even if cost leads to
fear realized
Poeming Out 