When I came out to you, Christian friend, you were so nice. Even after you knew the truth, we still lined our days with fellowship, our nights with prayer and choir rehearsals. We still ate our meals together and walked to church together. I thanked God, I remember: it seemed like nothing had changed. But [...]
Zora Ada and I had an uncomfortable Lyft ride this summer. We were headed home well after midnight, weary from a long series of flights. A middle-aged white man picked us up at the baggage claim, and he and Ada exchanged the usual post-airport pleasantries. (I usually sit back and let her do the talking.) [...]
...Both translations of disappointment hurt because they incite us to determine our own self-worth with the never-satisfied measuring stick of our perceived worth to others.
I grew up in a village in Maine where most folks made their living at sea. In that village is a little white church (in every sense of each adjective), and I was a part of that community from birth through my college years. I’ve written about leaving my non-affirming college church, but leaving my family’s church was a different process: one marked by more nuance and nostalgia. After coming out as queer, I started feeling unwelcome at the little white church that raised me.