it takes three [red ballons]

Ninety-nine dreams I have had
And every one a red balloon
It's all over, and I'm standing pretty
In the dust that was a city
I could find a souvenir
...Just to prove the world was here
Here it is, a red balloon
I think of you and let it go...
[Nena, 99 Red Balloons]
 
four weeks ago, my beloved and i made it official. [four weeks, i know. some might call it procrastination. i call it thoughtfulness.] what is 'it'? and what makes ‘it’ ‘official’? these are important questions. i'm not sure i have any answers or that the ones i do have are the ones i should have.

'it' is hard to pin down - marriage? civil union? sacrament? institution? well, the certificate said 'civil union,' but let's call it what it is. [minus 1000 plus federal privileges. yes, straight friends, no matter what you've heard, it is not just a matter of semantics. even in states where a rose is called a rose, queers are getting the shaft.] sacrament. institution. the state seems confused about this. we are not [or are we?].

when we went to apply for the certificate, they told us that only a judge or a credentialed clergy member was qualified to ‘officiate.’ [so clergy are ‘officiates’ for the state, but this is NOT a marriage – ‘it’ is a ‘civil’ union. huh.] almost immediately, i could feel the anxiety rising. this was not going to be  easy. who do we know who is credentialed and willing to sign on the dotted line? [because I was NOT going to some dank office to have a stranger, unknown and possibly hostile, use some tired script to ‘make’ it official.]

you see, my beloved and i are Catholic. well, s/he is kind of Catholic, but we are both thoroughly sacramental. for us, covenant is sacred, desires true, true witness and performs protest, all of which we did last summer, at our real, real wedding, before ‘it’ became ‘official.’ what a contradiction, now that we have the ‘freedom’ to unionize[?], religious ‘freedom’ seems out of reach.

who do we know? who do we know? the state’s requirements for clerical officiates is flexible, to say the least. we ask our ritualists from last summer, Catholic lay ministers, and we are met with a resounding excuse – no credentials. at least one is honest in saying that her situation in witnessing for us last summer was less precarious [less ‘official’?]. now she is employed at a more conservative university. the stakes are higher. she explained this in a facebook message. i’ve yet to respond. what can i say? i understand the risk, but i’m sorry if i don’t ‘understand.’

well, true true witness emerges in the most unlikely places. we put a call out to a friend, a clergy member of the Black Coptic tradition. he returned the call within minutes with a resounding yes, more than that, an affirmation – ‘i am honored that you asked.’ now this is a ‘witness.’ we found out on the day of our ceremony that he risked censure in his church to be our witness, that this was a ‘theological moment’ for him. well, we are grateful!

so the three of us met at the white mansion to exchange vows, mine and my beloved’s, and ours with the witness to our covenant. on our way to meet our witness, we stopped to pick up the sacramental props, some tools to visually, materially ritualize this ‘theological moment.’ we stopped at the Dominick’s [grocery store] balloon counter. one balloon. ‘no honey, we need enough helium to carry the vows and knots.’ two ballons? no, three, a good, ‘theological’ number.

‘what color?’ asks the attendant. ‘red,’ i say, as ’99 Red Balloons’ begins playing in my head. i am vaguely aware of the political dimensions of this symbol, the red balloon. political is good. ‘this’ is sacrament. this is protest. the song, ’99 Luftballons’ [https://dl-web.dropbox.com/get/Public/11%2099%20Luftballons.m4a?w=84ae5b87] was written by the German pop group, Nena [later translated into English as ‘99 Red Balloons’]. Nena’s guitarist was inspired at a Rolling Stones concert in West Berlin during the cold war. balloons were released, and he imagined what might happen if they floated over the [in]famous Berlin Wall and the soviets mistook them for UFOs. ‘this’ could result in nuclear war.

the song tells the story of two children who release 99 toy, air balloons that float over the wall. mistaking the mass of balloons for something ominous, the soviet military launches an attack, resulting in nuclear war. when the dust clears, only one of the children lives and a single red balloon. this scenario is not unfamiliar for queers seeking public and ecclesial acknowledgement of covenant. our acts of joy are mistaken for something sinister and are met with rhetorical weaponry, loaded with fear.

so we left the grocery store with our symbols of protest, and we met our witness on Catholic institutional property, and the three of us, together, performed protest, performed sacrament. we ‘made’ our vows, and our witness invoked the trinity, Absolute Relation, to ‘officiate,’ to bless our union, for we are truly, truly blessed. and then we released our three red balloons, knotted together, bearing our vows and our hopes for survival in a violent world. [hope is a bag of bones, maybe two, maybe three, hanging from a single, toy balloon, a child’s whistle in the dark; I’m glad we bought three!] we, our witness, my beloved and I, watched as they floated up and away, and i held my breath for a moment, waiting for the bombs to rain down from the sky. i am still holding my [metaphorical] breath, waiting for ‘freedom,’ true true freedom.

missing david

i struggled out of bed this morning for daily eucharist. i haven't been to the table in several weeks. take that as you will. but when i arrived @St. Gert's [yes, a couple minutes late], i found the doors locked. this was a queer moment - how to start the day? this is the kind of thing that a sunday-goer would know - it was probably in the bulletin. but i am not a sunday-goer, not right now. i usually celebrate the day of rest in queer time and space [you know, taking a reprieve from the dissonance]. although, the last time i attended family brunch was on a sunday, with david + G + Sophia [hmmm].

i miss david.

and the only reason breakfast might be canceled is because it is the fourth of july. a queer moment in deed, when the Church puts national holiday before liturgy, substituted for the pseudo-turgies of back yard bbq's, pass-times, and fireworks. These are the rituals of the American Dream, the eschaton, whether you come to the table or not.

and perhaps us american queers have some things to give thanks for this year, some new purchases from this brand of liberty - civil unions and marriage equality legislation, DADT, more public sympathy for the deaths of our young people. however, on this, the day of our independence, maybe we should ask ourselves what those purchases mean - are we simply taking out stock in the American Dream, adding queers to the pie crust without rethinking the recipe? or are we reflecting on our potential to transform unjust social institutions, including marriage and military?

what rings in my ears today is the rendition of our national anthem that i heard at the Chicago Force's season opener. quarterback, Samantha Grisafe with her gentle strum on the ukulele and the gritty melancholy of her voice plucked the heart strings of my patriotism. i looked out at the line of her teammates in their tackle pads and uniforms, their pride and allegiance, and i thought, this is possible, here, in this nation, in this moment, and i was glad.

but the tires of our parade floats are still being slashed, we are still being bashed under the golden arches, in plain sight, no less, and we are still uninvited to the table. but i go anyway, except when the doors are locked [hmm]. i go in the shadows of the morning, when people don't ask questions, or stare, or make us a cause, or think we should have one, or lament our struggles.

in the morning, people just pray, together - well, except today, america's independence day.

i miss david.

submerging : emerging

breath. drop below. exhale. resistance. empty. push up. break the surface. inhale. plunge.

so many books. why does mine matter? it doesn't. then why am i doing it? an exercise in radical humility. ?....?.....?

the inch worm

well, the rapture is tomorrow, and today i am writing. thinking. breathing.

yes, i started this post before the [anti]climax, the end or beginning of the world, what a farce. and yet, isn't this a basic desire? the end of desire, the end of needing air, the end of ambition, of toil, of work, of coming face to face with our limitations. i am so limited. we wait for the final emergence. or would it be submergence?

yes, it has been over a month since i typed a few stray phrases into the post field of this blog. after easter, i want[ed] to write about emerging. you know, about finally breaking the surface of my research, and becoming a prolific dissertator. however, the best i seem to be able to do is get my mouth above water for one or two desperate gasps before the current of self-doubt pulls me back under. These gasps look like two-three meticulous sentences, a paragraph if i'm lucky.

yes, the new post page has been a tab in my web browser since easter, a book mark in a dusty self-help book, a reminder that i haven't given up, but i'm not exactly motivated. i am suspended, hanging under water, watching others swim by me, feeling their ripples jostle me, inspiring envy and more fear. some days the current will move me along, but mostly i am paralyzed. i will need to start swimming. otherwise, it will not be long before i become a rock at the bottom of the stream, unmoving.

yes, others have struggled with the paralysis of fear and have overcome it, sometimes quickly, sometimes slowly. Annie Dillard, in The Writing Life describes writing as analogous to the life of an inch worm, the perilous journey up a stalk of grass. One inch at a time, the inch worm must learn to move forward, again and again. s/he moves an inch and then looses her grip on the blade. legs flailing, head spinning in the abyss, s/he must figure out, for each inch forward, how to reattach. and each time, it seems there is no way forward, that it is the end of he/r life, the end of he/r work. but each time, she finds the blade again. and just when she reaches the top, the blade bends to meet another, and s/he starts all over again.

no, not again...

yes, again. all it takes is one stroke forward, one gasp for air. soon, my muscles will remember how to work. eventually they will find syncrenicity. i will not be breathing in desperate gasps. i will find the rhythm again. and when i have found my way out of dead waters, the current will again be behind me. i believe this?

practice makes practice

here is a practice track i recorded today preparing for a choir audition tomorrow. just click on the blog post title.

cross-ing the street

this is a reflection i offered for a panel this weekend addressing connections between sexuality and poverty in theological ethics.

I begin with a text from the Book of the Prophet Ezekiel:

1 The word of the Lord came to me: 2 Mortal, you are living in the midst of a rebellious house, who have eyes to see but do not see, who have ears to hear but do not hear; 3 for they are a rebellious house. Therefore, mortal, prepare for yourself an exile’s baggage, and go into exile by day in their sight; you shall go like an exile from your place to another place in their sight. Perhaps they will understand, though they are a rebellious house. 4 You shall bring out your baggage by day in their sight, as baggage for exile; and you shall go out yourself at evening in their sight, as those do who go into exile. 5 Dig through the wall in their sight, and carry the baggage through it. 6 In their sight you shall lift the baggage on your shoulder, and carry it out in the dark; you shall cover your face, so that you may not see the land; for I have made you a sign for the house of Israel. (Ezekiel 12:1-6) 

This text came up in the lectionary when I was doing preliminary research for my dissertation about the experience of LGBTQ youth in US communities. At the time, I was reading a national study about the prevalence of LGBT identification among homeless youth and the specific challenges facing this population. Of course one’s interests and sympathies color the reading of Scripture at any given time, and it occurred to me that this oracle from the Prophet Ezekiel has the potential to reverse certain moral assumptions that usually result in silence, ignorance, and even belligerence regarding the suffering of queer homeless youth, especially within Christian communities. These young people are often criminalized, pathologised and/or abused by family, society, and assistance structures, making it difficult for them to seek shelter and care. Their sexual and gender non-conformity is seen as deserving marginalization and violence. However, looked at through the lens of Ezekiel, their suffering may be lifted up as a sign, an indictment of political and religious households with corrupt systems of justice and idolatrous structures of organization that serve privilege. The problem of queer youth homelessness presents an immediate point of intervention, both geographically and temporarily, into the discussion about the relationship between sexuality and poverty in theological ethics.

            In this brief reflection, I look at queer theologian, Marcella Althaus-Reid’s understanding of crucifixion as redundant, and the implications of her theology for a Christian response to local epidemics of LGBT youth homelessness. I present the experiences of homeless youth in US communities as contemporary instantiations of the cross, and therefore, encounters that compel Christians to see, to reflect, and to act.[i] Althaus-Reid describes the crucifixion as ‘redundant,’ meaning that the brutality and injustice of the cross are continually replicated in human history, resulting in new layers of meaning and new demands for Christian response.[ii] Althaus-Reid relates the redundancy of queer crucifixions in the present to Jesus’ story in the Gospel of Mark. She points to the reoccurring movement within the Gospel between death and resurrection. Jesus experiences isolation and temptation in the desert, loss of family and livelihood, hunger, religious estrangement and persecution; on the other hand, Jesus seeks out other estranged persons, shapes a new community, and speaks out against the marginalization of undesirables in the public space, all of this before the climax of his story in death on the cross and an open ended hope in his resurrection.

            Althaus-Reid reads the Gospel along side a fatal queer bashing in Buenos Aires. This is one among many incidents of anti-queer violence that take place worldwide every year. The headline reporting this incident read, ‘Matan a una Marica,’ translated, ‘They Killed a Faggot.’ This type of violence is often a reaction to the perceived threat that sexual and gender non-conforming persons pose to the heterosexist social order. Althaus-Reid tells Jesus’ story as the story of a Queer man coping with familial rejection, social and economic vulnerability, and eventually a violent death. She writes, “The crucifixion made him redundant. He becomes an unemployed God, a devalued, misunderstood God outside the market. In everything Jesus did, God’s abundant presence was there, but nevertheless, for society, he was a failure” (169). This reading brings the relationship between sexuality and poverty into focus, especially when direct connections exist between queer identity and socio-economic deprivation in contemporary life.

            Right now, queer crucifixions line the streets of Chicago and Milwaukee. A US study conducted by the National Gay and Lesbian Task Force and the National Coalition for the Homeless shows that 20 to 40 percent of all homeless youth identify as lesbian, gay, bisexual, or transgender.[iii] According to the report, this reveals that LGBT youth suffer homelessness at a disproportionate rate, since only 3-5 percent of the US population identifies as lesbian, gay, or bisexual. The statistical gap is even more pronounced for transgender youth. Studies indicate that 1 in 5 transgender persons need or are at risk of needing homeless shelter assistance. The Task Force report also highlights family conflict as the number one cause of all youth homelessness. For LGBT youth, this is often conflict directly related to their sexual and/or gender identification. One study shows that 26 percent of gay teens were kicked out of their homes when they came out to their parents. Another study found that more than a third of LGBT youth who are homeless or in the care of social services reported a violent physical assault when they came out.

            Not only are LGBT youth more vulnerable to becoming homeless, they are also more vulnerable to some of the most difficult challenges facing youth on the street. Struggles with mental health, substance dependency, HIV infection, harassment, violence, and criminalization, again, disproportionately affect LGBT youth. Various studies show that LGBT populations of homeless youth are more likely to engage in survival sex, are more likely to be the victims of sexual abuse and violence, and are at greater risk of health consequences related to risky sexual behavior. Taking a look at these issues a little closer to home, research initiatives in both Chicago and Milwaukee report statistics that support the findings of the Task Force. There are between 12,000 and 15,000 homeless youth in Chicago – 25,000 annually in the state of IL. Between 1400 and 3000 in the city of Chicago are LGBT identified – between 5 and 10,000 homeless youth in the state of IL identify as LGBT. Also, one Chicago study reveals high rates of prostitution, and experiences of physical and sexual assault among homeless youth – this study did not distinguish between LGBT and straight identified youth.

            In Milwaukee, a research collaboration among seven organizations, in response to the Task Force report, found that 23 percent of youth surveyed in Milwaukee identify at LGBT.[iv] LGBT youth tended to be homeless longer than non-LGBT youth, and LGBT youth reported higher instances of mental illness and substance abuse. Also, under reasons for homelessness, LGBT youth in this study reported being thrown out or running away at triple the rate than non-LGBT youth. LGBT youth also reported higher rates of abuse and violence in this study.

            These are conditions that should compel us as Christian theologians and ethicists to reflect. The hungry, frozen, battered, raped, shaking with fear, and many times mutilated and murdered bodies of queer youth crumpled in our gutters - their bodies call out for the resurrection of a redundant tradition, a tradition that is complicit, in what it has done and in what it has failed to do for the least of these. Christian leadership and communities and the discipline of theological ethics has failed to appropriately assess and address the experience of LGBT youth. Their struggles emerge at the nexus of sexuality and poverty. Ignorance and silence amount to turning a blind eye to the cross. Christianity perpetuates the political manufacture of the crucible of heterosexual privilege, resulting in the marginalization and death of non-conforming youth. The Task Force report singles out Christian assistance organizations as particularly limited in their ability to meet the needs of LGBT youth. Many faith-based organizations oppose legal and social equality for LGBT persons. This raises concerns as to whether these organizations can provide safe and affirming services to LGBT youth.

            In conclusion, I return to Ezekiel. “7 I did just as I was commanded. I brought out my baggage by day, the baggage for exile, and in the evening I dug through the wall with my own hands; I brought it out in the dark, carrying it on my shoulder in their sight” (12:7). These youth are not simply victims. Rather, they have shown the courage to dig through walls with their bare hands, to carry the baggage of an oppressive society, to be who they are despite a social household that does not provide for them. Worse than that, an abusive household that continually sacrifices their dignity and humanity for the sake of an inhospitable and idolatrous moral order. One commentator calls Ezekiel’s prophetic demonstration a sign-act. I think this is helpful in acknowledging and celebrating the agency of queer youth, albeit limited and often denied by social impoverishment.

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[i] This reflects liberation theology’s integrated model of scholarship: see, judge, act.

[ii] Marcella Althaus-Reid, “Scenes from Queer Cruci-Fictions: Matan a una Marica (‘They Killed a Faggot’)” in From Feminist Theology to Indecent Theology (Great Britain: SCM Press, 2004), 173.

[iii] The Task Force and NCH, ‘Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual and Transgender Youth: An Epidemic of Homelessness’ published on the Task Force website, 2006 . For Chicago, data was collected from The Night Ministry, Chicago Coalition for the Homeless, and the Illionois Department of Human Services.

[iv] Cream City Foundation, “2010 State of Youth Homelessness Report,” a collaboration between American Civil Liberties Union of Wisconsin Foundation, Children’s Service Society of Wisconsin, Fair Wisconsin, Lad Lake Inc, Milwaukee LGBT Community Center, Pathfinders, and UW-Milwaukee’s Center for Urban Initiatives and Research.