💥 Texas governor [Greg Abbott] calls on citizens to report parents of transgender kids for abuse [02.23.22 NBC News]
💥 A Florida legislator withdrew his amendment to the ‘Don’t Say Gay’ bill that would require school districts to out students within 6 weeks [02.22.22 Business Insider]
💥 Sen. Rick Scott's GOP manifesto denies existence of transgender people [02.23.22 NBC News]
💥 Alabama lawmakers advance transgender students bathroom ban [02.23.22 NBC News]
💥 Supreme Court to Hear Case of Web Designer Who Objects to Same-Sex Marriage [02.22.22 The New York Times]
💥 Utah bill: Trans kids can play sports only if a commission okays request [02.14.22 Los Angeles Blade]
💥 ‘Still live in fear’: LGBTQ Americans hope push for Equality Act will finally end bias [02.23.22 USA Today]
💥White House: Texas stance on gender-affirming care for transgender youth is 'dangerous' [02.23.22 Dallas News]

This past Monday, May 17, we observed International Day Against Homophobia, Transphobia, and Biphobia. 

This year, more than 250 anti-LGBTQ bills were introduced in state legislatures, and while a small percentage of those became law, it is critical to understand that even the introduction of these bills, and the rhetoric around them, have tremendous impact on the communities they target. LGBTQ+ people, like other marginalized groups, experience discrimination in their daily lives and see their existences used as political fodder, red meat for political points.

1981, social worker Virginia Brooks coined “sexual minority stress theory,” in her book Minority Stress and Lesbian Women. However, the theory is usually attributed to Illan Meyer, who in 1995, published a study of minority stress in gay men, which is cited about 20 times more frequently than Brooks’ work, which is not unusual for a work completed by a lesbian scholar and centers women. 

Two hypotheses about the health disparities experienced by historically marginalized people must be understood before understanding minority stress theory. 

• Social selection hypothesis: there is something inherent or genetic about being a “minority” that leads to health disparities. This hypothesis is not supported by empirical evidence.
• Social causation hypothesis: Historically marginalized people face social situations that lead to poor health. This hypothesis has received broad empirical support.

Two types of stress processes, distal and proximal, accrue over time and lead to high chronic stress levels and, then, poor health outcomes. Distal stress processes are external and include rejection, discrimination, and prejudice. Proximal stress processes are internal and are often the byproduct of external stressors. Proximal stress processes include hiding an identity (staying in “the closet”), vigilance, and internalized negative feelings about one’s identity group (such as internalized homophobia, biphobia, and transphobia). 

LGBTQ+ individuals are known to suffer from widespread health disparities compared to their cisgender, heterosexual counterparts. LGB people are 2 times more likely, and transgender people are 4 times more likely, to experience a mental health condition associated with minority stressors, like depression, PTSD, suicide ideation, and substance abuse. Most research has relied on surveys to collect data on the extent of minority stress and its impact. However, it requires more attention from the public health sphere than what can be ascertained through surveys. Research on the larger LGBTQ+ community’s mental health is difficult, as recruitment for research and interventions is limited. It’s difficult to get a full picture of the extent of stressors and how to quantify them. It's important to remember that people face compounded minority stress if they are part of multiple marginalized communities. LGBTQ+ people of color, for instance, experience homopbhobia, biphobia, and/or transphobia along with racism at the interpersonal and systemic levels. Another example is lesbian and otherwise women-loving-women (WLW) who experience sexism and homophobia.

North Carolina also faced down three specifically anti-LGBTQ+ bills this session. In a session with LGBTQ+ and allied clergy members, several of them said they were seeing more trans people, especially trans young adults, coming to their churches, searching for a place they would be safe and welcomed. Many of these trans folks had not been in a church in some time, as many churches are very unsafe, discriminatory places for them to be. It says something that a church can not only be welcoming and affirming but is also somewhere people can go for refuge when their existences are being attacked and debated at every level. 

Inclusive spaces like churches that do everything they can to be safe and affirming places for marginalized people can be tools to help ease minority stress and resist cultural violence through nonpartisan political action. Learn more about how we can journey with you to full inclusion.

I was a month from turning 14 in the summer of 2002 when my home church, then affiliated with the Southern Baptist Convention, baptized two gay men. I'll go much more in depth in later content, but when the church was threatened with expulsion from our various associations, including one we helped found, there was a meeting to decide next steps - would we baptize these men? The church made the decision to move forward with the baptism, but one thing stands out to me from that meeting where this decision was made. There was a woman I knew, I believe in her late 30s at the time, who was so upset by this decision that she cried and hugged me in the hallway. I, a closeted and suffering 13 year old, was comforting an adult woman who didn't want people like me in her church, the church my family had attended for generations. 

Of course, I remember my pastor's emphasis on love and not judgment, I remember the amazing feeling of unity and family when our church was faced with protestors who interrupted our services and when we were removed from more associations. I remember the swell of pride and deep love I had for people who didn't know much about LGBTQ+ lives but who were standing in the gap of love. But I also remember how deeply, deeply some people didn't want me there. 

This was one of a few extreme situations I seemed to find myself in the center of around LGBTQ+ people in faith spaces. And then ther's the others: the hush hush  of 'we don't talk about that here,' 'come as you are,' 'love the sinner, hate the sin.' I fumbled in the dark until I decided to turn the light on myself and walk out of the church doors. I knew my Bible better than anyone I knew who hadn't attended seminary. I read Revelation when I was seven years old. And I said goodbye to the Church and I stopped praying to the God of people who didn't want me. 

After I transferred from my hostile Baptist college where I studied religious studies, Christian education, and youth ministry, I earned my social work degrees and worked with LGBTQ+ youth, foster families, adults, and adults with HIV. I did advocacy and activism so that people, no matter who they were, would always have a space. I had been pushed out of so many spaces, and I was going to prevent that in any way I could - including fighting for nondiscrimination ordinances in employment, housing, and public accomodations. 

The world still squeezed us out. I lost two trans youth to suicide when I was working with them. Today, laws across the country are being signed that attack trans children athletes and refuse them medical care. So much of this uses the church as justification. But now we know, fewer than half of adults belong to a religious congregation. We can do better, and I know a lot of churches don't know where to start. 

Whether you are just considering opening your doors to LGBTQ+ people, or whether you are doing everything you know to do and just want to make sure you're on the right path, we will meet you where you are and offer deep, nonjudgmental relationship where we will study, grow, and do outreach with your congregation. This is a relationship that will feel nurturing, and it's deeper than nonprofits, even denominational ones, have the capacity to go with you. 

I am ever drawn to the Mysterious love of God, and am in seminary, a decision I made when I first felt called at age 11. Over 20 years from that time, I am getting my MA in Religious Studies from Chicago Theological Seminary. I'm focusing on Christian Theology and LGBT Studies. I'm not seeking ordination; I believe my ministry is to the Church institutionally. If I had not been part of the LGBTQ+ community, I most likely would be serving a congregation today.

This is why Project Extravagant Welcome (PEW) exists. The church is often the place where people learn to hate or be ambivalent towards LGBTQ+ people, it's the place where so many of us have been harmed, and it's the place where all of that can change. Together, we can open those doors and grow your ministry at the same time. 

If you're interested, compete this form, and we will get back to you!

Onwards, 
Artie 
they/them/theirs