Queer, Christian, and raised in a Yupik Village

Julia McCarthy grew up Catholic in a Yupik village. She graduated from the University of Alaska Fairbanks, worked in Anchorage for a few years, and now lives in Maine with her partner. She wrote this essay about her journey as a queer person of faith on October 30, a few days before the religious conservatives of Maine voted to repeal the state's new same-sex marriage law.

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How does that slogan go? I'm queer and I go to church - get used to it

I am a person who tries to practice my faith daily. I am a queer person who believes that we can experience mysteries that defy explanation in our daily life. I am a person who regularly attends church and believes that there are many, many paths to understanding ourselves and our relationship with the unknown. I am a person who loves math and science and logic and believes that we gain wisdom from knowledge.

My relationship with religion may seem complex to some. It is not a relationship which I choose to be very vocal about, for a variety of reasons. I've been inspired to try to share something of my path by the aggression I have seen directed toward a number of young people in our community and by the powerful words of our housemate, who chose to share his perspective. Thank you for reminding me that it's important to come out in lots and lots of ways.

Spirituality and religion have played transformative roles in my life since I was born. The village culture I grew up in practiced both Catholicism (in Yupik) and a variety of ways of celebrating the worldview of Yupik peoples – dance, singing, mask making, storytelling, honoring the cycles of life. Fellowship with your community and with God was a part of my daily life in the village and imbued almost every task in some way or another. It's how I learned to respect life, the natural world, responsibility to others, and more. These traditions are not without their challenges – most GLBTQ Yupik people I know have had both cultural and religious barriers to coming out. It was through the lessons I learned in the village that I developed a relationship with god, though, and it's important to note that the lens through which that relationship developed was guided by the elders I loved and respected.

Throughout the rest of my childhood and into my teens I was a devout Catholic. I attended St. Nicholas Church in my hometown and, as I got older, found as many reasons to be at church as I could. My devotion to my faith set me apart from many of my peers and it was sometimes difficult for me to find community that was accepting of who I aspired to be. For a long time, I thought about becoming a nun – I felt my path to being a helping person was to be found next to God. I was confirmed as an adult in the tradition of that faith, and shortly thereafter chose to leave the Church. When I left Catholicism, I lost many of my friends. More importantly for me at the time, I lost my faith. There were a number of reasons that my relationship with God was damaged and the one reason that created a huge barrier for me in finding another community of faith was my queerness.

I was taught through declamations of supposedly loving people that the god that I had developed a relationship with throughout my life HATED me because I was queer. I learned through the behavior of my community and my peers that to be queer was to be without faith, without support, without dignity. I learned through conversations with other queer people that to adhere to a path of faith was scary and wrong, especially after understanding the damage inflicted upon queer people by communities of faith. I learned to create an armor to deflect the painful phrase "Love the sinner, hate the sin." I learned to avoid conversations with people that had to do with any kind of spiritual belief system. I learned to hide my questions and to reject my beliefs and to keep my mouth shut so as not to offend anyone. I have watched people be shunned by their communities or live closeted in fear that they will be rejected and ridiculed if they come out. I have lost so many friends to suicide that I cannot keep track any longer. I decided that if there was any kind of higher purpose to life, it completely escaped me.

Then I met Jamez and with him I remembered what a joy it is to explore my faith. To lift up my voice in praise. To listen to a sermon and feel inspired to disagree with my faith leader and thereby learn more about who I am in the process. In this community of faith, I don't need to make up my mind about anything to know that I have value.

When I think about the people who have been with me to explore my faith, I feel lucky to count among them people from all walks of life and all belief systems. It is not my intention to change your mind about your particular system of belief or non-belief.

I'll tell you what I do think needs to change though:

I think more queer people need to feel safe coming out as people of faith.

I think people who are queer allies and practice any kind of religion need to feel like they can express dissent without becoming isolated.

I think people of faith who are NOT allies to GLBTQ people need to stop choosing to abuse their fellow humans with words and looks and actions.

We are complex beings, with beautiful multi-faceted identities. I want to see more love in the world, and if I can't see that, I want to see more respect for one another.