The Bisexual Christian

It took me three attempts to come out to my parents.

Considering I'm from a large family of Christians, I'll take it as a success. I wasn't nervous or anything, they were just confused. I think it would have gone a lot smoother if I was just a lesbian. Defining bisexuality is often a trying and frustrating procedure. Turning to passive/semi/full on aggressive posts about the validity of sexuality regardless of relationship status when the frustration needs to seep out is something I'm definitely guilty of. And I could speak for hours on this topic alone.

But today I want to talk about something slightly different.

Today I want to talk about what it's like being a bisexual Christian.

Contrary to popular belief, I am able to step foot in a church without burning to a crisp. There isn't a salt line that triggers an alarm to everyone in the congregation. The pastor doesn't get a red alert button that puts the building into emergency shut down mode. I've been going to church my entire life and so far? I've not brought on Armageddon.

When did I know I was bi? Well. I kissed a girl for the first time when I was 8. I kissed a boy for the first time when I was 11. So a rough estimation on the exact moment I knew I was bisexual would have to be..... somewhere around the 21 mark. I was a late bloomer, it took a lot of mistakes and a lot of courage to admit it to myself. Was I terrified of what my religion and faith had to say about it? Absolutely. Did I keep going to church that entire time and every week since? Absolutely.

Sure, I've done my fair share of "praying the gay away" and turning to less than helpful "Tumblr" explanations of sexuality. But finally, finally. I came to one very shocking and very controversial realisation. To quote Lady Gaga: I was born this way. I didn't wake up one morning and decide you know what I'm undecided on which genitalia I would prefer to grind against. I was born attracted to both men and women. And if. IF. I'm not mistaken. This means I was made this way. By a God. That I choose to call Jesus.

You with me so far?

I know. I KNOW. There is stuff in the Bible that speaks against homosexuality and I do not in any way claim to be a theological expert. But. There are equally many, many arguments, grounded in biblical teaching, that support the existence of queer people. Not to mention that fundamentally, Christians are taught that to love each other is to love God. Whether or not a Christian believes that homosexuality is a sin should not in any way effect the way they treat the LGBTQ+ community. But I am under no illusion that this is the case universally.

Being open about who I am can without a doubt feel like opening a door that closes another. I can't exist within the LGBTQ+ community and openly talk about my faith when religion has played such a critical part in their oppression and exclusion. Equally, I can't exist at church as a bisexual woman without being continuously challenged with the notion that who I am is fundamentally sinful. Even the wonderful Christian friends that I have come out to, even my parents, who have chosen to love me regardless of my actions or their understanding. Even they can look at me and wish that I wasn't bi. Because to them that makes me lesser. Imperfect. As if I am somehow defying God's perfect plan for me. As if he didn't make me this way in the first place.

And it's devastating folks, I won't lie to you.

But. Now here's the thing. And it's a secret so come a little closer to your screen so I can whisper it in your ear.

The LGBTQ+ community DOES have a place within the church.

It IS possible to exist in both worlds.

All it takes is a little faith.

If you're like me, or any one of the numerous varieties of me. The religiously deviant. The queerfully outcast. I call upon you now to use your voice.

Because I'm done tip toeing around my own life. And we deserve to start growing. We need to start having conversations about who we are. Challenging archaic notions of "sinfulness" with modern notions of "togetherness." Calmly opening up the floor to questions that are based in intrigue and not allegations based in personal vendetta. We need to create spaces that don't leave any room for embarrassment. We need to look to the future.

I want to create discourse for the young people within the church community that it's "okay to be gay" and to reach out to queer people, not with a hand of discipline but with a hand of love and acceptance. I want to build community and support systems. Love people the way they deserve to be loved.

We need to change the narrative that the doors of the church are closed to the LGBTQ+ community.

So that the church can learn to love and accept and the LGBTQ+ can begin to heal. And people like me? We can finally get some bloody peace.