My story is one with grief, healing and positive change. I have come out several times during my life and have gone through periods of being closeted. I grew up in the Episcopal church. I never heard anything about homosexuality in church, affirming or otherwise. I came to identity as bisexual while I was still in high school. A GSA was formed at my school, but I was too afraid to join. It was the early 90s and a lot of my classmates were pretty homophobic. People close to me assumed being bisexual was a "phase" and that I'd eventually outgrow it, marry a man and have a family. My relationships with girlfriends weren't taken seriously. I experienced sexual objectification and harassment because of my sexuality. It made it difficult to accept myself. Around this time I was also struggling with serious depression and began drinking to cope. I felt broken and isolated. I did get married in my early 20s, and was a victim of domestic abuse for many years with much of the verbal abuse centered around my sexual orientation. After leaving my marriage I dated both women and men, but struggled in relationships because of my subsequent PTSD.

Growing up, I never heard anti-gay messages in church. But the Episcopal church wasn't fully affirming until the early 2000s. I dated and was involved in the LGBTQ+ community for a while as a young woman. Later in life, after I divorced, I became a "born again" Christian. The church I attended had a sign out front that said "all are welcome." Initially no one ever spoke or preached about homosexuality, at all. But as the years progressed, a strong anti-queer sentiment became painfully clear. I never disclosed my sexual orientation to anyone, but I prayed for God to "set me free" from same-sex attraction—along with prayers to quit smoking, stop swearing, and anything else that might be "displeasing" to God under the teachings of this church. I lived a life of private pain, and had difficulty making close friendships. I didn't realize how compartmentalizing and severing a vital part of my identity was hurting me.

I was always pretty progressive, so it may seem strange that I was drawn to a conservative, high-demand religion. Well, the embodied expressive worship style brought me joy. I felt at home in my body for the first time in a long time, singing in church. I heard and believed the messages I heard about grace and forgiveness, God’s unconditional love, and his power and plan to heal and transform my life. And after coming out of the terrible emotional and sexual abuse in my marriage, the strict rules about sexuality and interactions between men and women created a feeling of sheltering and safety. For awhile. I became caught in a terrible sort of doublethink. I thought the teachings condemning homosexuality were wrong—I have long supported marriage equality and LGBTQ+ civil rights. But I felt personally obligated to uphold the toxic theology I was being taught in my own life. Eventually I realized that if this theology is harmful to others, then it was hurting me too. In my journey healing from domestic abuse, I learned the value of radical self-acceptance and authenticity. I realized that I needed to embrace every part of myself to heal and be whole. I know that I am "fearfully and wonderfully made"—created in the image of God, just as he intended. My sexual orientation is not a "sinful behavior" or "lifestyle choice", but an intrinsic part of my being. God loves me, his queer femme daughter.

The example of Christ and his heart for the marginalized and oppressed helped me leave fundamentalist religion. Amber Cantora's book "Unashamed" was the first affirming book I read. Books like "Untamed" by Glennon Doyle, "Shameless" by Nadia Bolz-Weber and "Outside the Lines: How Embracing Queerness WIll Transform Your Faith" by Mihee Kim-Kort have helped me as I keep my faith and learn to accept myself. I’ve been reading “Queerfully and Wonderfully Made” which is helping heal the wounds carried by my inner-teenager. Authors like Brene Brown and Matthias Roberts have helped me wrangle with shame, belonging, and self-acceptance. Non-Christian books like “The Queer and Transgender Resilience Workbook” and books on trauma and radical self-love are also helping me heal. I can see how my experiences have made me resilient, and I am learning to draw on my strengths and to trust my judgement and intuition. I have also learned to set clear boundaries with others. All of these things have been instrumental in my journey towards self-acceptance and affirmation.

Now I engage with a lot of queer and feminist Christian spaces on social media. Free Mom Hugs, Q Christian Fellowship, Kevin Garcia (Bad Theology Kills), Queer Theology, Niki Mayeux (My Queer is Sacred) and Freed Hearts are just some of the wonderful and/or affirming accounts on IG. Evolving Faith is a fully affirming fellowship, and I have been blessed by the multiplicity of voices and their diversity and inclusion. I also follow select exvangelical, ex-fundamentalist, and deconstructing Christians on IG. All of this has helped me feel less isolated and alone as I move into the next season of my life. It was hard to walk away from my church community, and the deconstruction process was painful at times. But I have been reconstructing a faith that values me as a whole person, that honors my sacredness as a woman, and sees my queerness as valuable. I have a smaller circle now, but it is filled with people that love me unconditionally. I know that no matter what anyone else says, I am chosen, created, called, and completely loved by God.