Coming Out Strong

In June, I went to the Church of the Brethren Young Adult Conference (YAC) in Knoxville, TN. I’m still new to the Brethren scene, so YAC was a good place to make connections. I attended several workshops during my week, and in one of them there was a discussion about worship. Hospitality was emphasized as one of the most important parts of worship. As I reflect on my experience at the conference, hospitality is an appropriate lens to view my week.

When I went to the conference, I was an outsider for several reasons.

1. I’m not a member of the Church of the Brethren.

2. I’m gay

3. I’m the Brethren Mennonite Council volunteer. My job was approved in January as a Brethren Volunteer Service (BVS) after more than ten years of being rejected. Then, it was rejected again only two weeks before the YAC.

 I’ve grown up in the Mennonite church, so I know who is welcoming towards lgbt people in the various Mennonite church circles. I’ve learned who is welcoming through relationships I’ve formed through the years and recommendations from friends and family. Without these indications of acceptance, at YAC I went into an environment where I had not met face to face people whom I knew were lgbt supportive. Most of the people at the conference I really did not know. I found this to be a good experiment to see what characteristics made people friendly to lgbtq people.

 When I arrived, I went right into introducing myself to others. Most people I spoke with would introduce themselves by saying what Brethren congregation they attended or what Brethren institution or program they were connected to. It was an interesting challenge to explain my place at the conference. Most of the descriptors I used to describe myself located me as being outside the Brethren church. I would tell them I am Mennonite, gay, and work for BMC.

 I went to several workshops, and I found hospitality was a common thread connecting all of them. Trying to learn more about the Brethren tradition, I went to a workshop about the history of conflict within the Church of the Brethren. I learned about the many times when the church didn’t show hospitality, which often ended with the church dividing. I found it interesting that the first division within the church concerned the marriage between a Church of the Brethren man and a Mennonite woman. It’s interesting that marriage is still a divisive issue in the church. In the United States, there was the struggle to recognize and legalize inter racial marriage and now the struggle has extended to recognizing same-sex marriage. It is frustrating that we don’t seem to learn from the past.

 At the conference, I went to a workshop about Brethren who identified as progressive. Many of the people there thought hospitality came from dismantling stereotypes of labels we put on others. In a third workshop, Circle of Oppression, we discussed the words and systems of injustice that separate people. It is clear to me that an important part of hospitality is being aware of the divisive words and systems, so that we can work to dismantle them.

 Through reflection of my experience of meeting people, I found some of the friendliest people at the conference were those that understood what it was like to be different. Some examples of these were new Church of the Brethren members, lgbt, and people of color. The Young Adult Committee also did a great job of welcoming people. It was clear that hospitality was a value that they wanted to incorporate throughout the conference. While it is true that outgoing people are often known for being more welcoming, I found quiet people could be just as friendly.

I felt included by many of the people that attended. They possessed several qualities that made them welcoming. One quality was not being silent about injustice towards those that have been excluded. Several people showed their welcome by vocalizing to me and others that they were disturbed by the decision to remove BMC as a BVS placement. Several people sought me out to see if my experience at YAC was going alright, which helped me to feel included.  Another factor that made me feel welcomed was being listened to and having an opportunity to listen to others.

 How can you be more visibly welcoming to lgbt people? What messages are you sending as a straight or lgbt ally to lgbt people? Check out our Safe Zone training manual in the suggested reading section of this blog to learn how to be a better ally.

 -Reuben Sancken

I wanted to write a reflection about the recent Mennonite Church USA convention in Pittsburgh that highlighted the positive. Indeed, there were deep currents of strength, resilience, and hope, sprinkled with moments of joy, anger, laughter and sadness. I could tell you about the Pink Menno hymn sings where I felt more connected to “my” faith community than I have in years. I could share the experience of attending worship services organized by Open Letter pastors where many shed tears of deep emotion. I could paint a verbal picture of Ruby Lehman proudly sporting a homemade button identifying her as a “Pink Menno Grandmother.” I could describe the big smile on my face when amongst all the roaming groups of colour-coded youth-group-identifying T-shirts, I saw one group who had chosen to put their church name on a pink shirt. I could try to remember and list all of the positive, encouraging, and hopeful interactions I had with other convention attendees. But with all these experiences to choose from, I find myself dwelling on one of two negative encounters – one that tried to use shame to put me in my place.

I am having no trouble putting aside the more obviously aggressive encounter with two middle-aged business-looking men who approached me and my pink-clad buddy to direct us to a change ministry website. Perhaps I dismiss it as ridiculous because it is so overtly offensive.

The encounter I can’t get out of my mind was a very brief exchange I had with a motherly looking woman on the street. I was standing on a corner a few blocks from the convention center, being a human sign post for those looking for directions to a college panel taking place off site. (BMC, Pink Menno and Open Letter had to rent space outside of the regular convention.) As she walked past me in a crowd of other convention attendees, the woman asked “how old are you?” “I’m thirty,” I responded, to which she threw over her shoulder from some distance away, “then you should be old enough to know better.”

This brief and at first glance fairly innocuous comment has such power because it stands upon a long and deep history Mennonites have of using shame to keep everyone within the community in line. I was skeptical the first time BMC’s director Carol Wise mentioned the use of shame as part of Mennonite culture. Two years at BMC has shown me the truth of this observation. It hurts me to see our supposedly pacifist and community-oriented church turn to emotional and spiritual violence to punish or correct community members they see as stepping outside of a boundary of acceptability.

The thing about shaming, though, is that it only works if you let it. Shaming loses all power when it is recognized for what it is. Since I am proud to identify with a movement toward an lgbtq welcoming church, the attempt to shame me only fueled my determination to be a present, visible and vocal “sign” that a church that includes lgbtq people is both possible and good.

On an individual level, shaming often takes the form of cold shoulders and social isolation (our 21^st century version of shunning). Some people retreat and some people stand firm. The difference doesn’t seem to be how harsh the behaviour was, but rather how much shame was experienced.

At a congregational/district level, this can be seen when congregations, (even in liberal districts), won’t become publicly affirming for fear of discipline, while others go forward anyway. This is threat of “discipline” is really all about using shame (you’ve done something bad deserving of punishment) to keep congregations from challenging the status quo. What, after all, can a district actually do to a congregation? Most districts have figured out that revoking a congregation’s membership looks bad and accomplishes little more than burnt bridges and revenue loss. The current tactic of choice seems to be threatening a pastor’s credentials. When the bluff is called and the congregation continues to support their pastor, there is nothing more for the district to hold over a congregation’s head - they end up looking both mean and weak.

I encourage you to take a moment now and again to remind yourself what values you are grounding your actions and choices in. It is much harder for someone to make me feel ashamed of my actions, when it is very clear in my own mind that I am making conscious, thoughtful, and belief-based choices. Hold your head up high!

Kirsten Freed
Brethren Mennonite Council for LGBT Interests

This summer’s Annual Conference was my first experience with a Brethren Conference of any kind. I showed up at the Richmond Coliseum with my mindfull of fears and worries of what might happen when a group of lgbta people start walking around with large reminders of the exclusion the CoB so deeply practices, by brazenly displaying 11×17″ photos of lgbt and allied Brethren. I felt really proud of all the work that went into BMC’s Picture Project — the gathering of photos and stories was just so tremendous. Here’s adescription of the project from the BMC website:

We were primarily interested in photos from CoB lgbt people and our families; both those who have left the Cob, and those who remain yet struggle. We also included some non-lgbt allies who have either already left the church because of its exclusive practices, are just barely hanging on, or who daily struggle to remain a part of the church and wanted to express their solidarity. We received over 80 beautiful pictures that we enlarged and mounted. We invited supportive individuals at Annual Conference to carry a photo with them at all times at Conference. Our goals were two-fold:

a) to challenge the exclusionary practices of the church by making visible the presence of CoB lgbt families and allies.

b) to encourage individual conversation with other conference-goers.

Growing up in the CoB, I heard every year about BMC’s presence at Annual Conference. I was always eager to hear what creative and moving way BMC staff and supporters would use space never given to them. I’ve been inspired over the past few years to pay more attention to the CoB as I learn more and more about the policies banning BMC from having a space at Conference. For me, it has been a situation in which the more I learn about the struggle for BMC to do seemingly simple things at Conference such as providing information for passersby and staffing a BMC booth, the less hope I have for the Church of the Brethren to right its wrongs. I’ve become hesitant to believe promises for change, and as this year’s Conference grew closer, I prepared myself for the worst: no one will carry posters around with them, BMC materials will be taken from booths and thrown away or not allowed, and people won’t show up for the BMC witness. I was ready for Annual Conference to be the last straw for my relationship with the Church of the Brethren.

It almost pains me to say it, but I’m afraid I’m sticking around for a while. Due to three main reasons (meeting wonderful and genuine allies, learning more and more stories of lgbt people in the Church, and conversations in the exhibit hall), I just can’t help myself. Perhaps I’m a glutton for punishment, but I’m not completely separating myself from the Church of the Brethren; at least not yet.

Now back to those reasons…

I met wonderful and genuine allies at Annual Conference. Family members and close friends of lgbt people in the Church stood out to me as an amazingly powerful presence. The Picture Projectcertainly got people involved, and I believe it allowed people a chance to speak out in a manner as moving as it was loving and influential. Some of the allies who joined us in the witness have been advocates for lgbt rights for years, even decades. I deeply respect those individuals who would challenge their own privileges and work to create change.

The more I learn about lgbt people who have, at one point in time, associated with the Church of the Brethren, the more my anger grows. It’s a strange kind of anger, however, that makes me feel equal parts motivated and discouraged. It’s an anger toward the CoB matched with the respect I feel for the lgbt Brethren population. The actions of the Church of the Brethren in the lives of some of these individuals have been so detrimental that I am amazed we can call ourselves a “Peace Church” with a serious face. The stories of lgbt people in the CoB are often filled with a deep love of a Church that frequently rejects them outright or demands their silence. Many are forced to distance themselves from the Church which had always been a presence in their lives. The strength one must possess to journey through pain, frustration, and betrayal truly astounds me. I have become aware of a great number of individuals who have braved the trail before me, and for that I am grateful.

Sitting in the exhibit hall, I was able to discuss the Church of the Brethren in all its liberal glory. Or rather, the hopes for the future. I was able to meet and get to know some individuals involved with Womaen’s Caucus, On Earth Peace, and VOS … and I picked up on the strong energy to believe that change is possible in the Church of the Brethren. For the first time in my life, I thought to myself, I really want to believe that the Church can change. The commitment formerly present in a few has now sparked in many, and may one day spread even more. I am not yet ready to commit to the thought that the Church of the Brethren will change for the better, or even that it has the ability to make that incredible turn around. I will, however, commit to stickingaround for a bit longer. I want to see where this is going…

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In my official position with a para-church organization, I’ve wondered not a few times in the past few months how I can negotiate this position with anti-oppression work relating heterosexism. Specifically, how to speak and act in a just and life-affirming way while serving in a job description that doesn’t include addressing heterosexism as part of my charge.

I’m in an admittedly easier situation than many, since my position (as the Mennonite Church USA representative to AMIGOS – the global young adult network of Mennonite World Conference) fits into a institutional structure that’s non-coercive and still evolving, as well as the fact that I don’t depend on receiving a salary from my work (it’s volunteer). And since people perceive me as heterosexual, I’m almost never challenged on a personal level.

Nevertheless, I’m not quite sure how to proceed when I’m speaking in my official role. I aspire to acknowledge homophobia alongside other oppressions when I’m listing things that contribute to exclusion/imbalance of power in the church, but I sometimes feel like I’m out of place bringing up sexuality in conversations on global church.

So I was thinking one thing that would help would be to get to know more queer Mennos and allies – as well as stories of how people have negotiated such positions. I’m keen to hear stories of how people (professors, conference reps, pastors, etc) who have taken courageous stands even at odds with their institution.

I should be clear too that I appreciate also the perhaps less-flashy stories of queer folks. Hearing them helps me on my personal faith journey as I seek to learn more about how the dynamics around sexuality, gender, authority, and theology (to name a few) play out in my own life as I interact with the past and present of the church. (The Young Anabaptist Radicals blog and this one have been great places to start for such stories.)

And hearing them also helps me in my official position, as I become more able to recount real examples of how sexuality and the various faces of oppression play out in the lives of people I’m supposed to be representing.

I could say more, but perhaps I’ll tie up my thoughts here by saying thanks to folks who have already shared, and that I hope to hear more about how folks are taking risks to support more thoroughly healthy relationships to sexuality in the church.

Having just finished my first year working with a predominantly African-American population of public high school students, I’m painfully aware of racial differences in how we conceptualize sexuality. Socially it is not ok for these teenagers under ANY circumstances to be thought of or known as a gay male in our high school community. It isn’t the least bit trendy or exotic as it is slowly becoming even in rural midwestern communities. The few “out” gay male students I knew of are flamboyant to the extreme and surround themselves with close female friends as a sort of first line of defense. i think they cling to stereotypes only because they have no concept of a black gay man who is acceptable in society.

It’s a strangely different story for lesbians or bi girls. These girls are out and proud and are pretty much accepted. I’m guessing because the popular media (music, tv, movies, music-videos) that these students live and breath worship lesbian sex as exotic and highly erotic. It’s amazing to me to observe lesbian girls discuss their sexuality openly with both guys and girls listening and asking questions, sometimes genuinely trying to understand. I’ve never witnessed an equivalent discussion about male homosexuality.

My point is that lgbt issues are NOT only a white issue. It’s just that it is not always talked about in open and constructive ways in African-American communities. From my perspective, it’s almost like the only reason white folk can even begin to deal with sexuality in the often academic way we do is because we don’t have to deal with issues of racism and classism.

Does that make sense to anyone? Comments?

I’m not out to most of my students–not because I have to fear for my job, but because most of them wouldn’t know how to deal with having a gay teacher. And at this point, I’m not strong enough to add that to the list of baggage I already deal with as a teacher who is early in his career, emotionally and experience-wise.

Eventually, I do hope to be more open with them–not add it in the syllabus obviously, but be honest if they ask. Just like straight teachers share about their families, I would ideally like to share about my partner…and cat. Then maybe I could be at least indirectly supportive of both out and closeted gay students who pass through my classroom.

Thank you Katie for commencing the topic of LTS, HTS. I cannot count the number of times I have felt personally saddened at hearing this phrase from non-accepting and understanding mennonites and other christians. To expound on what I mean, I think that I must share the multiple thoughts that come to mind when I hear this. The phrase itself allows for the following analysis. First of all we must accept that EVERYONE sins, so this phrase is meant for everyone including the pastor who preaches every sunday, the nice little old woman teaching sunday school, and the elderly twins in your home church who never married. However, how often is this phrase actually used for these people? I think that I have only known of it being referenced to people continually living in what the church calls sin or those who have committed societal immoralities such as theft, murder, or rape.

I remember, many years ago, while visiting family friends in Lancaster, PA at a church service the pastor and congregation asked a man to stand up and speak about his sin and his forgiveness. I remember him talking about sinning because he had sexually assualted a woman, a friend, and he was now asking for god’s forgiveness and for forgiveness from his congregation. As a child, I did not completely understand what was going on or what he meant, but that image of this man asking for forgiveness has never left me. Whether someone is christian or not and believes what he did was a sin, he had done much worse than that by violating someone’s body, privacy, and personal rights as well as breaking a law. In that moment, his congregation was accepting to love him and commit themselves to him and his recovery (as some might say) while hating the very act that he committed. Love the Sinner, Hate the Sin. What a perfect example of how this should be used. Love the violator, Help him heal.
So, how is it that when churches say LTS, HTS for queer persons, how in any way is this comparable? How is it at all possible that someone can correlate a brutal illegal crime with loving someone of the same sex, or consensual sexual relations with someone of the same sex?

Looking back at when I was in college, I think of the cliques that I was not immediately involved in of mostly heterosexual white men and women, made up of pseudo-jocks, athletes, incredibly intelligent persons, and your average joe/jane. The majority of these well known people were liked, not for their looks alone , capabilities, or brains, but mostly because they knew how to have a good time. I’m talking about constant partying every weekend, drinking like we were in a bad water crisis, pre-marital sex, even the occasional non-consensual sexual assualt. All this, from those who our church deems sexually moral simply because outside of their clique and others around them, everyone thinks that they are the good little mennonite boy or girl who occasionally has fun with friends. Unknowingly, the church is Loving the Sinner and secretly accepting the sin, because they are not doing anything to stop it. Yet, when the church finds out someone is queer and in a relationship, the mere fact that they are in a relationship means that they are sinning because they are engaging in some sort of physical behavior. However when the “good little mennonites” are in a relationship they may still be having sex and the church does not know this because their sexuality allows for physical actions that may not be sexual that are not sinful (as deemed by the church). So basically I’m trying to say that there is not equal treatment between queer and heterosexual relationships when it comes to what the church sees.

So when I hear LTS, HTS I am filled with sadness, anger, and sometimes a painfully sick feeling in my stomach. I think it is unfair how the church uses the term for some and cannot for others, I think that when someone says this I know that I cannot and do not want to be around them nor would I ever want to attend their church, and I think that it’s simply a cheap answer for a church that will not study the issue and get beyond their fears of understanding and acceptance.

Former BMC board member Adam Hostetter sent this video linkto the office (aka the mothership) and said it would be okay to share here. It is a wonderful story and the video is great. I’ll copy and paste the text that goes with it but I’ll just link up the video and you’ll have to go to the Stories for Change website to see it.

Taboo Underoos Video
“Some things felt right and normal to me when I was a kid, and as I grew up, I realized my “right and normal” wasn’t quite so. This story is about coming back around to my own “right and normal” and feeling FABULOUS about it.”

This also was first posted at YAR (young.anabaptistradicals.org), but I hope it will get some good discussion going here.

I’m going to do a spin-off from the speech I pointed you all to in my last post. So here is the conundrum. I grew up Mennonite. I went to a lovely, nurturing, happy, rural church (East Union Mennonite Church) where I was baptized at 16. I went to a Mennonite summer camp (Crooked Creek Christian Camp) for quite a few years and loved it. I went to many a Mennonite churchwide assemblies as my parents were youth leaders for many years and when I was in high school. I went to a Mennonite high school (Iowa Mennonite School) where I learned lovely things about Mennonite history and faith along with the English and Trig. I served for a year with Mennonite Central Committee (SALT) in South Africa. I spent four formative years at Goshen College. I highly value every one of these institutions as they have played a major part in my formation. Those institutions represent an integral part of almost my entire life. The problem arises when I realize that every single one of these institutions would discriminate against me if I were to want to work for them or even volunteer for them as an openly queer Mennonite.

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First seen at YAR in September 2006

Hey Folks, I’m Katie Hochstedler, aka KatieHo. I’m young and Anabaptist and I’d like to think I’m radical. Who know’s who’s really radical and who’s not?

I spend my time living in Minneapolis and working for Brethren Mennonite Council for Lesbian, Gay, Bisexual, and Transgender Interests as a full-time volunteer. Right now, it is the best way I know that I can be Anabaptist. I’ve been here for almost two years and I’ll be done in August. Then I’m going to move all the way St. Paul and got to culinary school. Before that I was studying at Goshen College and before that I was growing up near Kalona, Iowa.

Something I find amusing about volunteering for BMC is that while I am working with an organization that is involved in both the Mennonite Church and the Church of the Brethren, I have been volunteering through the Lutheran Volunteer Corps and now the United Church of Christ Volunteer Ministries. Neither Mennonite Voluntary Service nor Brethren Voluntary Service will have BMC as a placement so other churches are supporting me.

Something I did recently was give a speech at a conference hosted by BMC and two other faith based lgbt organizations. I was supposed to be provocative as I was speaking to a group of lgbt and allied church people who were mostly older than me. I thought it was a pretty good speech so I’m going to put a link here so you can read it too. It might give you a better picture of me and what I do at work.