In less than a week I’ll be heading off to the Wild Goose Festival. I am both incredibly excited and a bit nervous. The festival is aiming to have a conversation the includes spirituality, justice, and the arts. They are having a lot of great speakers and some of my favorite musicians are going to be there. Plus, I’ll get to camp with some awesome friends and have great conversations.

But I’m also nervous. This is a Christian festival. I get nervous around large groups of Christians. I know that the festival has done some work to make sure that queer voices are represented but as far as I know there are no out trans* people speaking from the main stages. The festival also includes the leaders of several organizations that are not exactly queer inclusive. These are the folks that refuse to take a stand on queer issues for fear of alienating the religious right. Or people who speak publicly about having a conversation about queer issues but yet privately think that being gay is still a sin. These are people for whom the trans* conversation isn’t really happening at all.

I am going to this festival expecting to see and meet awesome people. I am hoping to be inspired and moved. But I am also hoping to confront some of the folks who are making money off of other people’s oppression. I want to do this with love and non-violence (both in word and deed). I want to bring awareness of the voices that are still being left out in our conversations, to talk about the ways in which all justice issues intersect, and to broaden the conversation to include trans* voices. It’s hard sometimes to be in Christian spaces knowing that I will have to advocate for myself and my community. But it’s also hard to be in queer spaces knowing that I will have to advocate for my faith. I long for the day when I know I can walk into a Christian festival and not have to have my guard up. And for the day when I can be in queer spaces as a person of faith and not have to defend myself. Until then I continue to straddle both worlds hoping to be a part of the process that brings about wholeness.

If you’re planning on going to the festival and want to meet up, let me know! I would welcome meeting and hanging out with new people. I’m also hoping to do some podcast interviews while I am there (providing my batteries hold up!) and so if you would like to be interviewed (or know someone I should interview), please let me know.

What does it mean to identify as queer when you are attracted to people of the opposite gender? Can you still identify as queer even if you are single?

Someone asked me the other day how I currently identify. The answer (as it usually is) is that it’s complicated. Before transition I was primarily attracted to women. As I began to transition I found myself opening up to the idea of being in a relationship with a man. For me, this opening up of attraction came about because I was finally comfortable in my body. The thought of being with a male identified person as a woman wasn’t appealing, but once I began to be seen as I truly am I was able to broaden my desires.

As a binary identified trans* guy I sometimes feel like I don’t fit in. I feel like because I identify as male I am not always celebrated in the trans* community. I am seen as a sell out or as someone who has somehow “bought in” to the idea of gender. I am not trying to be anything in particular or trying to fit into someone else’s idea of what it means to be a man; I am simply trying to live my life with the utmost of authenticity for myself.

So why do I identify as queer? Mostly because of my theology and politics. My theology and politics call me to a radical way of being in the world. One that practices intense hospitality, one that is concerned with breaking down barriers and achieving fullness of life for all people. In the current climate and context, those ideas are queer in the sense that they challenge and provoke. They turned the status quo on its head.

Add in to the above thoughts my recent musings on celibacy. When I was first coming out (as gay back then, without any language around my gender identity) I thought that the only way that I could be a Christian in good standing was to remain celibate forever. It was a celibacy that took no consideration for a person’s gifts or needs. It was one that was punitative and forced. I bought into that idea for quite a while and it made my sexuality unhealthy.

As I’ve been reading lately about people who have chosen celibacy I have wondered what it means to make that choice. On the one hand that choice can be really unhealthy. It can be a fleeing from sexuality, a dismissal of the body. Some people see it as a rejection of women (in the case of male priests).

I am beginning to wonder if celibacy might also be able to be a gift. One that, when chosen with good faith and eyes wide open could be a gift to the world. When I was married and also when I have been in very close friendships with people, I have noticed that my focus narrows. All I can see is the other person. Partly this is because I am an introvert and when I am in a focused relationship it takes most of my energy to keep that relationship healthy. But also this is because I want to be with the other person. I want to be close to them and celebrate them.

I think that there are people who can be a part of healing the world through being in relationship. They can demonstrate wholeness and fullness in that relationship. They can raise awesome kids and do great things. They can show how reconciliation and commitment work.

But I think there is also something to be said for someone who chooses to not become focused on an intimate relationship and instead channels that energy into a relationship with the world. This person is freed up to go wherever God calls. They can exert energy that someone who is a parent might not be able to exert. Both are holy callings.

If chosen freely I think celibacy could be a beautiful thing. I don’t think it should be enforced, or even seen as the ideal. Instead it should be an option that can be celebrated as yet another way to express the love of God to the world. And it can be very queer indeed to be in a relationship to the whole world.

I haven’t officially taken a vow of celibacy but I am thinking about it. I have noticed that even taking small steps like deleting my online dating profile and not concentrating on what it would mean to be in a relationship are freeing up my time and energy to thing about other things. I am able to simply be with people instead of wondering if they might find me attractive or if I should ask them out. I am able to be more open about sharing myself with others.

I have a tattoo on my ring finger that says “the world”. It comes from a line in a poem by Daniel Berrigan that says “he wore the world for a wedding band”. I am wondering what it will do to my heart and my life to take that marriage seriously.