I don’t remember when I discovered that there was something called a “girl” and that I was one of them. My sister is only 21 months younger than I am, so I am quite sure we learned much of that together.

Our parents probably sent us cues about it consciously and unconsciously. We were dressed alike for much of our early life. I liked dresses more than Wanda did, but I have clear memories of twin blue jumpers, white blouses and patent leather Mary Janes from when we were three and four and participating in an Easter pageant. Outside playing, I might wear a jumper and bloomers and Wanda would have on those cute overalls with the snapped bottoms; she was the most beautiful baby and still is quite gorgeous.

We heard stories and fairy tales about princesses and girls in towers with long hair. My favorite was Pippi Longstocking. (What does that mean?) We played with dolls and Easy-Bake Ovens as we grew up. We made up games like Rock Family—using rocks from our gravel driveway to structure a family system— and Pick with Mommy’s magazines (I pick this lady; I pick this toolbox!). Once our brothers came along, we played with trucks and G.I. Joes, but those belonged to the boys. Wanda was their “teacher” in playschool, I was “mommy” in any of our other creative games. We had wonderful crazy times with our cousins and our growing family. Hansel and Gretel, Hide and Seek, Duck Duck Goose, Tag, Badminton—we played a lot, and learned how to fight and make up.

I do remember when I first learned that boys were “cute” and that they liked me and I liked them. I was in kindergarten, and Tommy Holly was my very first crush. Blond, blue-eyed (there were no boys with dreadlocks or Afros in my Portsmouth, New Hampshire, grammar school) Tommy and I were close buddies and he carried my lunch box and that meant love!

I wonder, now, as an adult, what it was like for my friend Michelle. When her parents were sending her messages about how girls like boys, when all of the signals around here were about crushes on guys and kisses behind the school, was she feeling pressure? How early did she feel deep down inside herself that something was “different?” How soon did she know that she, too, got tingly and goose bumpy about girls herself, and that if she shared that with someone—anyone—she would get teased, harassed, maybe even beat up?

I wonder what it was like for someone like Michelle, in the locker room with her friends, as girlish bodies matured, and the conversation turned to confessions of learning to kiss and of forbidden desire and the assumption was that she, too, had stories to tell of Derek or Billy. I wonder what it was like for her to swallow her voice and stuff down her own growing sense of truth, that she in fact felt drawn to her best friend, and so had begun to isolate herself, to reject invitations to hang out or spend the night so as not to show herself. I wonder about the pain of having your very essence be called a “lifestyle” and wondering when it is safe to come out to family and friends.

June is Pride month, and we have not quite overcome. Too many children, too many youth and too many adults still get messages from too many sources that they are “different,” “broken,” “abhorrent,” “an abomination,” or “can be cured.”

I believe in the inherent goodness of all of God’s people. I believe that every child should be able to discover who they are, and have that affirmed and understood. I believe that there  should be books for parents to read and classes for them to take so they can learn to make space for their child to blossom, and to nurture in their child what they see becoming. I believe that there ought to be a body of literature for children and adolescents who are homosexual or who have homosexual parents in the public school systems and in libraries, so that they can have mirrored for themselves that their sexual orientation and their family is part of God’s creation and is on the curve called “normal” and nothing of which to be ashamed. I believe that schools and churches and synagogues and mosques ought to have as part of their curricular materials resources that help all young people learn early that some girls like girls and some girls like boys and that is just the way it is. I believe that there need to be more safe places for young gay, lesbian, bisexual, and transgendered persons to date, to hang out, to learn about life and love and God.

I believe that the Church needs to keep coming out of the dark ages, keep letting go of fear, and keep letting God speak to us every day about the meaning of Love and then throw the doors wide open to everyone so all can know God’s amazing love and grace. 

Middle Church is a wonderful safe space in which everyone is welcome, just as they are as they come through the door.

What an important space to be! Our witness, our testimony, our radical welcome and radical hospitality is an important source of hope. The culture has not yet overcome, but as we rehearse the Reign of God at Middle, as we offer one another unconditional acceptance, as we create a “border space” where gay, straight, bisexual, questioning, transgendered, and lesbian folk can just be together, learn together, pray together, play together, come out together, be out together—we honor God and one another. And we point to a time when biases, fear and prejudice WILL be overcome.

Keep on keeping on, Middle Church. Keep on saying, with conviction, “Just as you are as you come through the door, we welcome you.”     

I love you,
Jacqui