I've been thinking a lot about what it means for humans to be embodied people--not just spirits, but people made of physical bodies who relate to each other in embodied ways. I am someone who deeply craves physical touch, and it's been a weird year to think about this stuff during 2020 while touching other people has suddenly gained a whole lot more baggage than usual.
A few weeks ago I was on a late an evening walk through the park talking to a dear friend on the phone about how lockdown and social distancing have affected us this year. Both of us are people that have always been good at long-distance friendships, and we’ve both managed to stay closely connected to our friends this year through phone calls, video calls, 1-1 catchups and small group gatherings. But something was missing.
“To survive, you must tell stories.” - Umberto Eco. I love reading. Books have been a safe haven where I can explore bold stories from the comfort of my bedroom. Long before I felt safe enough to start speaking openly about my sexuality with people, I was devouring books that introduced me to stories of other people like me.
In my last post I talked about the idea of cultural scripts that tell us how to live and behave: what to aspire to. Cultural scripts embody the virtues a community values most highly. But what do we do when our community doesn’t value things that ought to be valued? What do we do when the cultural script we are handed is inadequate in guiding us to a life of flourishing? I think our culture needs to re-write those scripts.
It's been a big week for me! Tonight I had the great privilege of joining Lee Shang Lun for an episode of The Distillery where we chatted about things like what the Church--and the LGBTIQ+ community--can do to help people flourish in our communities.
To continue exploring the idea of dual citizenship, I thought I’d share some stories of my experience during the same-sex marriage postal vote in 2017. This is not a feel-good post as it contains some heavy-hearted stories taken from my journal as I struggled to cope during this time.
How being a celibate, gay Christian can feel like dual citizenship. Translation exhaustion, code-switching, and the search for solidarity coupled with the joys of hearing and telling beautiful stories from another culture.
Or Am I Repressing Who I Truly Am? A few months ago, back when it was still normal to have parties and meet people in real life, I found myself at a party chatting with a few other gay folk from very different walks of life. It’s always fascinating meeting other gay people with different … Continue reading Be Who You Are
I originally wrote this about a year ago in response to a message I received from a colleague asking "How do you do the abstinence?" I'm posting that response here hoping that it might address any similar questions you might have about singleness, celibacy, and my personal religious convictions.
For about three years, I've been writing imaginary blog posts for myself. It started out as a form of journalling--trying to process my thoughts and feelings by writing them down.