What the world needs now...
During my second year of graduate school I served as president of the LGBTQ graduate group at the Divinity School (aptly named DivOut - yes, all the LGBTQ groups had pun names). One of my favorite things about that role was that every week I sent everyone on this private list an email that contained: a quote from a different queer figure, a power anthem, a pep talk, and their schedule for the week.
I'm no longer in grad school, but given this year generally and last night particularly, I felt compelled to write something to those folks, and I thought perhaps it might speak to other folks as well.
Power Anthems (Courtesy of Resistance Revival Chorus)
All You Fascists Bound to Lose
It is clearly the case that I am no longer the DivOut president, nor - sometimes to my chagrin - a graduate student at all. To say I miss you all would be an understatement, as being in class and on campus with you all was one of the great privileges of my life.
And yet when news broke last night of the inevitable Supreme Court confirmation, I found myself compelled to write you all. If I'm honest, it was one of my first impulses. And I've spent the morning reading interviews with Angela Davis and pondering what it is exactly that I want to say. This has, I'll admit, also been complicated by the reality that so many of us harbor religious trauma deep in our bones, and so in deference to that, I always tried to speak in the broadest possible terms.
But in this moment I find that such an approach does not serve me, as it does not adequately express the thing I most want you to know. Which is my utter conviction that the hope of the Christian faith lies in the life and in the resurrection of Jesus Christ. And that hope is, I believe, worth clinging to as the bottom continuously seems to drop out from under us, tempting us to despair.
As I said, I've been reading interviews with Angela Davis, and so to the point of life - and moreover the living of it - as hope, I share this insight from the National United Committee to free Angela Davis:
In these times, when the fight to uphold one's humanity is a revolutionary act, the false difference between 'personality' and 'politics' can no longer be maintained. It is in this light that we must understand the life of Angela Davis, for, as she said, the struggle of a true revolutionary is 'to merge the personal with the political to the point where they can no longer be separate.' In the profoundest of ways, it is one when 'you don't see your life, your individual life, as being so important' that it begins to become important, politically, for others in the common fight for freedom. - The National United Committee to free Angela Davis, 1970 excerpt from "A Political Biography," If They Come In The Morning: Voices of Resistance
We, together with our comrades and allies, friends and lovers, classmates and neighbors, make up that fight. You are, even now, part of the coalescing "us" that rises in the "common fight for freedom." In my tradition, that is also the highest aspiration of the church, but you might call it community, coalition, or chosen family. Regardless, it is this commitment to the other, that full embodiment of all that we are for the purposes of the freedom of the person next to us- even as we work to see more clearly how our self-understandings of our own embodiment are disciplined by powers of imperialism, racism, ableism, sexism, colonialism - that forms the foundations necessary for revolution, for freedom. And it is in these foundations, I believe, that we also see the weaknesses of those disciplining forces. We are shown, as we reflect the desires for freedom of those around us, the limits of all those powers and principalities that would seek to establish our meaning for us.
This is what we see too in the life and works of Christ - a vision and a way of moving through the world that stays fixed on freedom, with a vision broader for that reality than simply the freedom of oneself.
So too then we come to resurrection. Many of you know this story, but in my first year at YDS I struggled deeply as the things I was learning and being exposed to shook foundational assumptions I had about who I was and what I had to offer the world. These things came to a head early in the Spring semester, and I found myself one cold Sunday night leaning against the stone wall outside Betts House sobbing and heartbroken. How could I go on? I wondered earnestly. What was the point of completing this program, or trying to preach, of doing anything when so much power and weight stood against me.
And then, to my utter surprise, came a thought - unbidden and more clearly than I had ever experienced in my life.
It rang out in my mind with a clarity I could not place, expanding and warming and settling in my soul.
It was so solid, so tangible, so present - this moment in time, this eternal moment, where God dismissed death out of hand. There in the lowest moment, the one most filled with doubt and despair, was this promise that it does not win. And more than a promise, a reality. A definitive statement. A grounding deeper than the roots of oppression and violence and hopelessness and governments.
It did not make everything better all at once. It did not absolve me of struggle and doubt. But I clung to its solidity. I placed my faith in it. And it carried me through. The resurrection is the fertile soil from which the seeds of hope sprout, racing upward, insinuating their tendrils and shoots into the places in the walls of despair where the mortar is weak. Slowly hope grows, and slowly the structures of injustice are destabilized, and in all of it we are offered the possibility of seeing life where before death seemed to have reigned supreme.
And so I offer you these words of hope, of life and resurrection, not because things are easy, but because things are hard. Because the shadows are building and the powers are coalescing and the message being blared at us is about domination and control.
These things are heavy. They are designed to crush us. And it is okay if right now it feels like they're succeeding. You are not always required to be strong.
But this is why you are part of an "us" - so that I can do the work on the days your hands are tired, and describe hope when you cannot see a way toward it. And you do the same for me, for zir, for them, for her, for him, for us.
There is life. There is resurrection. And you are DEEPLY loved.
in glitter and solidarity,