Today I was thinking about the profound affect Soulforce has had on my life.  What if the Equality Ride hadn’t come to Calvin College in 2007?  The impact of the 33 Riders who came to my school is so much bigger then this article I found in the Chimes would lead anyone to believe.  In some ways, I think I’m an incredibly different person because of this. I found my voice.  I started speaking up about queer issues.  I was inspired by the Riders boldness and courage to do what I had always been afraid to do.  Then I met a seven Calvin students who wanted to make things better at Calvin.  Somewhere between the Riders and my new friends at Calvin I finally made sense of myself.  I realized I am queer.  It turns out, straight women do not find women attractive (as in date worthy) in addition to finding men attractive.  I started getting involved with activism and there was an interesting switch in the straight to queer friend ratio.  I now have some of my best friends in the world because of the Equality Ride coming to Calvin.  The summer after my final year at Calvin, I was accepted into Q Camp with Soulforce.  I learned a ton about intersectional social justice, it changed my frame work for doing justice. I also met my amazing woman at Q Camp and now we’re dating and I’m in love and ended up here in Kansas City. Aside from Yantezia, I’m also grateful for the other Q Campers who are amazing activist that I can go to for friendship and activism advice.

I knew right away after the bus pulled away from Calvin that I had to go on the Equality Ride.  I wasn’t sure if I would get accepted but I really wanted to go.  Q Camp only made me more aware of that desire to go.  I applied for the 2010 Equality Ride and was accepted!!!  The 2010 Ride changed me in ways I’m still trying to figure out.

Here in Kansas City, I’m working with Equal. It’s super sweet because I get to work with Wick, a 2007 Equality Rider, Yantezia and another cool activist, Yahaira.  We’re training/mentoring queer youth to learn about intersectional justice, direct action and other campaign work.  I’m really excited to take on this leadership roll and help empower young queer activists, grow as a leader, gain friendships.  Although I get homesick sometimes, I’m really happy where I’ve ended up.  I’m making really cool new friends.  I’m enjoying every minute I get with Yantezia.  I am happy and confident as Christian queer woman.  I am happy to be growing as an activist.  Sometimes I wonder who is going through changes like this because of the 2010 Equality Ride and what changes will happen long term and short term because of me? I hope that more people are activist and growing comfortable in there skin and of course, I hope schools change polices to do better but I think more realistically, change happens with individuals.  Who knows.  What I know for sure is I thank God often for the 2007 Equality Ride and how it changed me.

Q Camp

Me with two 2007 riders

Most of the 2010 Equality Riders

You can help make sure that the Equality Ride, Q Camp, and other important Soulforce campaigns continue by donating today.

Six months ago, I started working with Soulforce, running our web and media efforts. I have a three year history with Soulforce which started as a 2007 Equality Rider. Soulforce retained me just as the 2010 Equality Ride was setting out and a week into the campaign, I joined them in North Carolina for a visit to Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. Some things I remember: the long hours, the instant bond between riders, the unmistakable feeling that we are doing something truly remarkable. Some things were different: the diverse group of riders were even better prepared and more intentional… the ride improves every year.

After our short visit to Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary, I spent the entirety of a community picnic speaking with a seminary student. We talked about The Law and Leviticus for three hours. It was grueling and utterly exhausting.  During that conversation I also connected, briefly, with another seminary student. The student joined us later that night for conversation in our hotel lobby and for lunch the following day. They shared a bit of their passions and joys, some struggles and theological differences they experienced at Southeastern Baptist Theological Seminary. After talking with young adults about queer issues for three years, I have a pretty good sense of when a person wants to say something but can’t. I got that feeling from this person.

Today, that student, now a graduate, sent me a message. They shared a brief update on their life and then, almost in passing, mentioned that they are now in a queer relationship and could not be happier. They are starting to come out, they might lose their job at a Baptist church, but all will be well.

That is all I have to share today: that six months ago I spent three hours talking about Leviticus in a park in rural North Carolina and today a Southern Baptist told me that they are beginning to love themselves. The Equality Ride never really ends. And thank goodness it doesn’t.

Please help us ensure the future of the Equality Rides be making a donation toward the next ride today.

Sitting in Meadowlark Coffee & Espresso after our 14th school stop at Union College, the only thing that came to my mind was one thing: I was tired. I was tired from the lack of sleep and countless hours on the road. I was tired of watery hotel coffee. But most of all, I was tired at defending my humanity.

But despite the times I felt as though the pressures from the Ride became too heavy of a cross to bear, I found myself inspired on a day-to-day basis by the genuine passion embodied in the 24 Riders around me. From the effortless grace that Amanda Lee Genaro possessed in front of large student audiences who sometimes could be hostile, to the eloquent words that regularly came from the mouths of the Equality Ride directors, there were numerous occasions that tears formed in my eyes, feeling blessed to be a witness at the sight of love in action (no pun intended). A love, though, not catalyzed by a want for our own personal transformation by placing ourselves in the face of adversity, but defined by our sincere concern for our LGBTQ siblings on these college campuses. The Riders became my constant source of light in places where I did not believe it could exist.

Though sitting in Meadowlark Coffee & Espresso, my experience on the Ride was unexpectedly summed up in the simple words of poem by a grade-school young person named LeAire.

Getting up on stage for open mic night with her younger brother and mother who preceded to read the words of a poem that was given no words of praise from her teacher or peers at school, LeAire looked nervous, anticipating the same reaction from an audience of fifty or so onlookers. But once the poem was recited, a loud silence of praise permeated even the smell of coffee beans that engulfed this intimate space – one that, for me, suffocated all the hate I experienced on the Ride:

Ever since I was little I knew I was different
Ever since I was little I was proud
Ever since I was little my mom knew I was proud
Ever since I was little I was made fun of
Ever since I was little the kids would call my family weird
Ever since I was little there was little equality
Ever since I was little I knew I was different
And I was proud

Now that I’m older I know I’m different
Now that I’m older I’m still proud
Now that I’m older my mom knows I’m proud
I am proud, even though kids still make fun of me
Just because I’m different
I still know there is little
Equality

These innocent words of perseverance sum up what, on a grander scale, LGBTQ people face in a world based in the politics of fear and unknowing. Even more telling about this moment, though, was knowing where the words came from: LeAire, a precious girl with the gift of writing who should have never had to experienced any discrimination in the first place.

But LeAire gave me hope that I will feel for the rest of my life. She gave me hope coming off that stage, hugging her two moms and her brother, truly fulfilled by what a family is suppose to be: one of support and devotion . She gave me hope for the day the Equality Ride will no longer need to be on the road, thanks to people like her who will continue the work for LGBTQ justice and equality. But on a personal level, LeAire gave me hope for my own relationship with Brian, my partner who makes me optimistic at the idea of love, the idea of a family someday, and the idea of a future fulfilled by happiness and truth.

Editors note: Brian Adkins, a 2010 Equality Rider, composed this note to his fellow Equality Riders. We reprint it here with his permission.

I joined the 2010 Soulforce Equality Ride not because I am queer, but because I am a Christian. I wanted to be a part of the dialog around the intersection of faith and sexuality and justice. Along the way, I have seen the best and the worst of Christianity. I have seen love beautifully and unconditionally expressed, and I have heard oppression called love. I have at times expressed my own truth eloquently, but more often I have fumbled with it clumsily like the lyrics to a song I have never heard before. My truth is a song still being written.

As I prepare to leave this beloved community, I have some parting words for my fellow Riders and I fear that if I don’t speak them they will kindle in my bones like the fires of my faith and I will be consumed. And the grief of departure should not should not have to contend with the regret of words unspoken. So here they are:

Three thousand years ago a prophet, Ezekiel, stood in a valley full of bones. He stood looking at the remnants of things that once lived but now lay desolate and dry. There God spoke to Ezekiel saying, “Can these bones live?” And Ezekiel said, “Only you know, God.” And God said, “Prophesy to these bones and say, ‘Hear the word of [love.]” And Ezekiel spoke and a great rattling was heard in the valley, as bone connected to bone, and muscle and sinew tangled into forms covered with flesh. And Ezekiel spoke again and called the wind, “Come forth from the four winds, O breath, and breathe upon these slain that they may live.” And life returned, where only death had been.

To me, these bones represent the spirits of queer people who have lost their hope. Those who have beaten down by the church and Christians, and who have been told they are unloved and unlovable. But you, dear prophets, have heard the rattling and your voices have called the wind, and your eyes have seen hope restored where hope was lacking.

You are prophets.

Like other prophets, many of you have known no honor among those who know you the best, even your families. You have been called heretics and sinners and blasphemers, for claiming God’s love and grace and affirmation. And like other prophets you have had to learn the awkward dance of shaking the dust off your feet when your message is not received. You have danced beautifully across this country, and it has been my sincere pleasure to learn by watching your precious feet.

You are prophets. You have not been called to idly warm your hands at a safe distance from the blazing inferno of oppression. You have instead been called to venture into the flames and rescue those being burned at the stake. Even when many of you yourselves bear the marks and ashes of your own stakes.

You have stood in uncomfortable places and hostile spaces. You have been missionaries to the missionaries. Your message never faltered, nor was it diluted or drowned out by the hatespeech of those who tried to bludgeon you with their ancient books. You have spoken truth as a beautiful melody, in places where music was outlawed.

You are prophets. And to be a prophet is not a temporary calling. It is until death. I know that you will spend your lives in valleys of dry bones – and you will continue to speak truth to power until your own breath is gone. Take courage for the journey ahead. I leave you with the words of God I spoke to you in this very room eight weeks ago:

“You are mine. When you pass through waters, I will be with you; and through rivers, they will not overflow you. When you walk through the fire you will not be burned; not even the flame will kindle upon you. God has put her words in your mouth, and covered you with the shadow of her hand, saying, ‘You are my people.’”

Riders, prophets, thank you for what you have been to me. I couldn’t love you more.

Ahoy ahoy!

The last time I blogged for the interwebs, the Equality Ride had just finished its first stop at Valley Forge Christian College, several weeks later and now I am here to talk about our stop at Southwest Baptist University (SBU). The day was interesting starting off with a little gathering with our hosts in a conference room where we had a little chat and told them exactly why we were here: 1) Their policy clearly discriminates against the LGBTQ and allied students/faculty on the campus 2) To spread love and affirmation to said persons 3) to engage in true dialogue to foster change and provide safe spaces for those who identify to being LGBTQ and allies.

Next was chapel, which left quite a few riders in emotional turmoil as the topic was about missionary work and the speaker seemed ignorant about what he was saying and just condemning people to hell. I know I felt the spirit move me out of the chapel quickly, just get away from the rhetoric spewing out of that man’s mouth. After the chapel, a few of our Riders, particularly Isaiah and Asher, went and conversed with the speaker about their feelings and how offensive they found this chapel service. I hope the man actually took the words spoken seriously and will try a different approach to things in the future.

Skipping ahead, the awkward conversation about racism is blooming at SBU, a group of riders, students, and faculty members were a part of a panel that talked about what Soulforce was and the topic of LGBTQ persons on campus. One of the faculty members was just plain combative and could not even see a LGBTQ person as an actual human being. I give kudos to all the Riders that dealt with that woman because she was just plain rude!

With emotions still high, and many of our Riders experiencing spiritual violence, the Dean of Students, with permission, got on the bus to “talk” to us about how we experienced the day. If “talking” to us, was a rant about how we betrayed his trust by holding a vigil later that day, then yeah, we had some “great” dialogue. Several of the riders, challenged the administrator to actually listen to what we felt, and he did.

After this, the Equality Riders set up camp right outside the campus and some ate food from the awesome PFLAG parents, talked to community members and students, or simply just sang songs. It felt like a nice, sweet closing after the tumultuous and emotionally exhausting day defending our humanity and dealing with the rampant issues of racism on SBU’s campus.

My experience in Lincoln is good so far in that there are some initiatives towards equality extended to QTBLG (Queer, Transgender, Bisexual, Lesbian, & Gay- and YES IN THAT ORDER so don’t get it twisted) folks.  The community really likes us being in town & it inspires them to be more open about being QTBLG.  Though I found that I had to initiate the conversations about queer experiences and rights, that tells me that (1) they aren’t used to talking about it amongst themselves and (2) they are hesitant to talk about it for fear of being attacked or ostracized.  When I did bring them back to the topic, I felt that they were very happy to talk about their personal experiences of being queer in Lincoln.  I felt like they were resting their heads on my shoulder (figuratively) to find comfort and that is a feeling I can’t describe!

Yesterday, I met with an old colleague/friend & his boyfriend who showed me around town yesterday and we got to catch up on life & talk about what its like being queer in Lincoln.  They are such an adorable couple and so deeply committed, but when I asked if they hold hands in public or kiss (PDA) like so many straight couples do (and take for granted), they said no.  Again, they are in a beautiful relationship that’s lasted 3 years and still going strong. They shouldn’t have to worry about having to hide their love.  I shudder to think that I might have to do that when I get into a relationship.

Earlier today, we were invited to an affirming church where there was great food, great people, and great discussion!  I’m glad that our conversations weren’t just limited to LGB rights but also covered the T and it ventured towards talks about racism and affirmations of high school QTBLG groups.  Our time was very limited though and it saddens me that it had to end so soon because the conversations were scintillating.  There were some folks from different congregations, schools, and The Human Rights Campaign.  I wish the representative stayed around for the racism conversation and that we didn’t have to spend so much time talking about other things that stalled the conversation that people needed to have. There were awesome Union College students & faculty in attendance as well.  I heard many wonderful things and learned that the faculty created a “safe space” which has a mini LGBTQ resource library. There is a space set up with chairs where students can come, sit, chill, and find affirming faculty members.  LGBTQ students are already making use of this space. This is a wonderful resource for Union students that I am thankful that they have.

While that is great, Union still needs to extend their anti-harrasment policy to include protection to QTBLG students.  I’m also hoping that Union will encourage all faculty and staff to be safe zone trained- as some of them already have signs on their doors.  We also hope to encourage a comprehensive RA (Resident Advisor) training so they could better respond to someone who identifies as QTBLG or an ally.

Upon hearing these gems, I’m very excited about our visit to Union College tomorrow!  I’m very glad that I get to help pave the road to equality for all by clearing up some negative myth-conceptions about queer folks, advocating for the importance of safe spaces, highlighting the other -isms that is connected with homophobia, and build personal rapports with Union students, faculty, & the greater Lincoln community!  Ciao for now.

Peace, Love, Namaste, & Equality for all!

We are nearing the end of Equality Ride, and I’ve been meditating a lot about this one question: “What is love?” It’s a big concept to think about, but at the same time one of the simplest emotions to feel and identify. I feel love for my fellow Riders, and I feel love for all of the people we’ve met (and will continue to meet) on this wild adventure.

I have to admit – I’ve been thinking about what I want to write in this blog for days, and our recent visits to Southwest Baptist University and Bethel College provided some clarity on the topic of love. While discussing how Christians should love their GLBTQ siblings during a panel at SBU, an SBU professor said: “The way I love you – I call it love, and you call it oppression.” This didn’t sit well with me, for what (I hope) are obvious reasons.

Similarly, our stop at Bethel College was challenging. At one point during a large group discussion with Riders and Bethel students, administrators, and faculty, Jennifer spoke quite powerfully: ”I’ve been sitting here for a long time feeling really emotional. I know it’s not anyone’s fault that your school is the thirteenth of 15 schools that we’re visiting, but I am so tired of hearing over and over again, my experience of being queer listed next to sins like lying, or being queer talked about as something to struggle with like gossip. I understand that people here believe that it’s a sin. And I don’t. I don’t struggle with it. But it’s hard for me to sit here and listen to this being said over and over again because I am in a relationship with a woman that Ilove. I love her. And I want to build a life with her and build children with her… What other sin is a part of building a loving life with someone?”

A professor in the room then said that humans have a flawed perspective of what love really is because we’re all in sin. As a response to Jennifer’s passionate proclamation of love for Cait, he proposed that humans have no idea what love looks like because of original sin, and thereby condemned Jennifer and Cait’s relationship. At this point, I was boiling. I saw the look on Jennifer’s face when the professor said this, and I had to speak up. “Sir, if I understood you correctly, I don’t think that you heard anything that Jennifer just shared. I know Cait and Jennifer, and they are truly in love. How can you say that their love is sinful? It’s not hurting anyone! In fact, it’s beautiful. I feel personally hurt by this comment because I am in love with someone who’s not on Equality Ride, and I constantly have to fight for my right to love my partner.”

When Riders share their stories very openly and honestly, from a vulnerable place that may still be an open wound, we hope to never be met with cruel words or admonishments that who we are – core parts of our identity and our sense of self – is sinful. Unfortunately, we hear those things often. I’m exhausted from trying to find relatable ways of saying (in Jennifer Luu’s words), “You live in this world with humans, as you are a human. It is right and good to be nice to said humans and not be a jerk. Please try it. Please.”

We’ve been all over the country in the past seven weeks, and I’ve learned that people love to play the “us vs. them” game. But when we start playing the “us vs. them” game, we lose sight of what it means to love. One way that WE – people, humanity, folks of every faith background, culture, race, sexual orientation, gender, ability, class – are set free is by telling our own story, sharing from our heart the experience of what it means to be [your name here]. While facts can help explain us, only stories can save us. And only when we know each others’ stories can we truly love each other. So listen. Receive. Learn. Open your heart to what your neighbor shares with you.

From the Canton Rep

Lesbian and gay advocates brought a message of equality Friday to Malone University.

The faith-based university does not permit homosexual activity on campus, per its student conduct policy.

Soulforce, a nonproft organization, visited the campus to promote safe education for its community. Supporters advocate for lesbian, gay, bisexual, transgender and queer (LGBTQ) community and — in this case — students.

They have been on a national bus tour, the 2010 Equality Ride, stopping at faith-based colleges across the country.

Caitlin MacIntyre, director of the Equality Ride, said they hope to build relationships with schools and create a safe place for all students.

Friday’s daylong event at Malone was not open to the public.

MacIntyre, 21, said her group wants LGBTQ students at Malone to feel affirmed by God, “that being queer and Christian are not mutually exclusive,” she said.

Read the full article

Let me tell you a little bit about Amanda Lee.  She is a woman of tremendous strength, resourcefulness, and love.  Her recent story involves overcoming enormous challenges over seven years to earn her Bachelor’s degree at an Assemblies of God Bible school in Minnesota, a degree she desired so she could serve God and minister to His people in love and truth.  But two months before her scheduled graduation last May, she was kicked out for being bisexual.

Although it’s been almost a year since then as of the time of this posting, Amanda Lee applied to join the Equality Ride last Fall – less than 5 months after getting kicked out of her school and losing her ministry and housing.  When all the riders met for our first training in January, it had been little more than half a year.  That was when she volunteered to be the stop planner for a Baptist school in Springfield, Missouri – which is also home to the world headquarters for the Assemblies of God.

The Assemblies of God is a very large, very influential, very conservative Christian denomination.  Their “firm stance on homosexuality” is responsible for an enormous amount of spiritual violence against gay, lesbian, bisexual, transgender, and queer people around the world.

I am not exaggerating, and I can speak from personal experience on this one.  When I was in college, I was a member of an Assemblies of God-affiliated ministry.  I was also gay.  After months of being told to pray for “sexual wholeness” and generally asked to keep my identity quiet, I came out publicly and was immediately encouraged to “find another place to worship.”  I did leave the ministry, but I never found another place to worship, sometimes feeling physically ill when entering a Christian church.  That was seven years ago, and the violence remains with me.

And so when Amanda Lee announced to the group that we were going to be holding a vigil outside of their world headquarters, I confess to a certain amount of personal anxiety.  But also, I feared for Amanda Lee, knowing how fresh her wounds, how new the pain, how much she had sacrificed to be authentic.

Adhering to the scriptural principal of confronting first the individual, then the group before going public with church conflicts, Amanda Lee had requested a meeting with Assemblies of God leadership some time ago.  Initially she had even been given one – until she told them the purpose of the meeting was to discuss the denomination’s position on homosexuality, after which she was told the meeting would not be possible.  When she asked why, the person on the other end of the phone hung up.  End of discussion.  So when we arrived at their headquarters yesterday, we stood outside the building with signs calling to the denomination’s attention the devastating affects their spiritual violence has on LGBTQ people – sparking feelings of depression, anxiety, isolation, fear, and all too often suicide.

Amanda Lee, along with Ride Co-Director Asher Kolieboi and fellow rider Brian Adkins, also attempted to enter the building to once again peacefully request the meeting denied them earlier.  Whereas we had seen other people entering the building freely as we set up the vigil line, when the three tried to go in, the doors were locked tight.

The three riders made the decision to sit in front of the doors, blocking anyone else who may come up from entering in order to illustrate the injustice of the church’s selectivity.  Although threatened with arrest, they remained steadfast in front of the doors as the rest of us remained silent in vigil, hoping for love to win the day.  After what seemed like a long time, a man came out and said he was authorized to invite just one person in.

And Amanda Lee, without hesitation or fear, walked alone into the home of her oppressor.

After a few minutes, she came back out and gestured to Asher and Brian – they could come in too.  The three of them ended up being inside the building for almost 45 minutes and met with, among others, the Director of Pastoral Care and the Secretary General of the entire Assemblies of God.  In their meeting, Amanda Lee asked, “What will we do when, as ministers of the gospel, we stand before God in judgment and have the blood of countless LGBTQ people on our hands?”

The Secretary General responded, “I don’t know.  God help us all.”

After the meeting, the two men accompanied the three riders back to the vigil line where the rest of us had been singing quietly.  At Amanda Lee’s instruction, we each took a flower, laid it on the lawn, and laid down in front of the building, representing someone who had been killed or taken their own life because they were (or were perceived to be) LGBTQ.

The two men watched in silence, then awkwardly said thank you and returned to the inside of the building.  We sang a couple more songs, packed up our things, and left.

I don’t know what kind of an impact that meeting had on those two men, or what changes it will affect in the way the Assemblies of God treats its LGBTQ members.  But I do know that, like Daniel in the fabled lion’s den, Amanda Lee had only her faith and our hope to protect her inside that building.  And when she emerged, she did much more than simply have a conversation with two strangers.  She made her life a prayer of peace.  She confronted her fears (and mine).  She chose hope.

And she proved that love wins.

Today we visited the much anticipated Baylor University.  Two years ago when Soulforce visited the campus they chalked in front of the chapel and were asked to stop. All but five Riders and one student stopped at which point the ones that continued were arrested on trespassing charges.  Yes, I said “chalked” which is the same as writing on sidewalk and streets with chalk.  When they were taken to jail they were cavity searched, kept overnight before pretrial even though they were arrested mid-day, and a Trans Rider was mistreated he was placed in a female cell.  All this, may I repeat, for chalking on sidewalk.

Mia and Jaxon, the Stop Planners for the school, coordinated a different approach this year and negotiated with administrator’s permission on campus to speak to students, faculty, and staff.  So at 9am we walked onto campus excited to engage in dialogue and common ground.  Nick and I volunteered to join in on a Philosophy class led by Dr. Dougherty who was the only Professor on campus to facilitate any kind of discussion or incorporate our visit into a class.  This, I am sure, had a lot to do with the fact that Baylor did not send any type of e-mail announcing our visit and kept it very silent up until a day or two ago that they sent an e-mail that could be considered condescending (at best) by many.  Kudos to Prof. Dougherty who I feel had the best intentions.  It was disappointing that the dialogue that this opportunity fostered was greatly hindered by time constraints and an administrator that sat in on the conversation.  However, the questions posed by Dr. Dougherty were insightful and the responses to the questions we posed back at him were honestly answered.

The rest of the day Riders spent engaging students and challenging them to think about the policy, how this policy aligns/contradicts Christian teachings, the intersection of justice and faith and sexuality, and just asking and answering questions.  Personally, I had some really great discussions.  During one of these with a student I tried to explain the difference between a sexual act and an identity. A question posed to me that I had not been asked before was, “If a lesbian couple does not engage in sexual activity, how is this different than two female friends?”  I must admit it took me by surprise because it was so obvious to me, but I had to take a step back and admire this person for being courageous enough to admit ignorance and willing to be vulnerable by asking an honest question.   These are the kinds of questions that students want to know; the kind of questions that could be answered within the safe spaces of a Queer/Straight Alliance if Baylor would allow one to exist.

Promptly at four o’clock, in accordance with our agreement, we boarded the bus and left campus.  We rolled to a nearby park where Jaxon and Mia had planned a Variety Show.  Under a pavilion with the sun shining down on us people shared a part of their lives with a friendly and eager audience. We had a little bit of everything.  The show included spoken word, dance routines, slam poetry, queer skits, original music, and amazing ‘coming out’ testimonies that had the crowd in thunderous applause. In my own Equality Ride experience and after such a depleting day, this reminder of the wonderful and amazing community and culture I belong to, affirmed and replenished my belief in my faith, my cause, and my friends.