In a few days, Pride Month will start in the US, and at Vine & Fig we’re hoping to celebrate this with fun community things that we have in the works. I myself would like to use the occasion to discuss an elephant in the room: the queerness of Catholics.
This is certainly going to be the most unusual Pride I’ve ever celebrated. With Pride Amsterdam cancelled, and receiving the request to host some Zoom panel for its online alternative this Summer, I am curious to see if the queer community is going to be able to embrace itself on the Internet for some much-needed pink capita-, no, queer togetherness.
In a few days, Pride Month will start in the US, and at Vine & Fig we’re hoping to celebrate this with fun community things that we have in the works. I myself would like to use the occasion to discuss an elephant in the room: the queerness of Catholics.
Don’t get me wrong, I’m not here to come out of hiding and tell your that my involvement with Vine & Fig was the result of some evil plan to infiltrate a queer Catholic organisation. I’m not an undercover conversion therapist dressed up as a black fat queer feminist. I’m merely a concerned queer citizen watching a gap widen.
See, it’s no secret to both Christians and non-Christians that we Jesus fans have, in one way or another, told ourselves that we should be in the world but not of the world. Human but not focused merely on human things, involved but not so much so that we forget where we’re really going. Even if we’re taking an approach that is not hardcore John 17:14-19, it’s obvious that when we pray to the Ineffably Large we force ourselves to look well beyond everything that is worldly.
I’ve tried, but I can’t think of a group more worldly than the one that has a PhD in turning a frown upside down while reclaiming the space it deserves: the queer community. It has been my trusted home base for two decades. The launching pad that taught me self worth, which is what I need to eventually be able to embrace my Catholic heritage. As I meet more and more queer Catholic siblings at Vine & Fig, what surprises me most is an inability to fully connect with these two groups to which we belong. And it’s obvious why: many of us feel as persecuted by the Catholic community, as we do the queer community.
And that is sad.
After all, queerness isn’t just a sexual or gender orientation, it’s a membership card. Our Catholic ancestors have gifted us our heritage, and it is no different for our queer ancestors. It’s important that we allow ourselves to connect with that ancestry so that we can know what we are a part of, who else is there, and that people fought and died for us to go on the Internet and chat in the Vine & Fig Slack room. We are all victims of victims, and this is no different when a queer person tells us our Catholicism is bullshit. We should not let that get in the way of us giving thanks to those queer heroes who deserve it. And we should definitely not let that prevent us from ensuring that the queer community has a bright and inclusive future.
The queer community is not a monolith. You are a part of it, so is Ellen DeGeneres, and so is Bob, the bearded drag queen slash leather boy in my neighborhood who goes to Amsterdam’s Club chUrch to put something up his nose and dance with other people in the nude. We may disagree with each other on a thousand topics (I know I do), but we share a heritage that can only be acknowledged if we find each other. And we can only find each other if we dare take up space, as queer people but also as Catholics.
I pray that you all have a very meaningful, healthy, and cheerful Pride Month this year. Go meet another queer person who is totally not like you, simply because you’re worth it.