This is what I know about you: you are a daughter, a sister, an aunt, a mother of two, a divorcée, a doctor, a teacher, a globe trotter, a breast cancer survivor. You are also a self-proclaimed Christian. You, of course, already know all that, but I'm making it clear because so much of what is known often goes unspoken, and when that happens, we tend to make assumptions. Or at least, I make assumptions. I made one recently, in fact, when I assumed you understood the nature of our relationship; I realized my mistake when I was surprised by your virtual friend-request. I don't know why I've never been as straightforward with you as I'm going to be right now, though I've been forthright with you in conversations about other issues unrelated to our relationship as aunt and niece. Perhaps I worried my words would fall on deaf ears and a heart so closed to understanding the truth that not even Moses could get through.
We've certainly shared words before. There was that time we had the heated debate about logging and owls, when you lamented the economic effects on families who depended on logging jobs that would be lost to preserve a forest full of endangered birds, and I said that the preservation of those owls' lives would mean the survival of our species because nature is our bedrock and we're all connected and that the loggers could log elsewhere or change vocations, and you wound up angry because you thought I cared more about animals than people and I wound up angry because I thought you had understood that God trusts us to care for the animals and the earth that sustains us.
And there was that one time when something like ten family members were crammed into an 8-passenger SUV and someone (you?) said something about abortion, and I challenged your view of what it means to be human, and the car got so crowded with words and clenched muscles that I thought the doors would pop off.
Occasionally you and I exchange emails and text messages. We even share a phone conversation every now and then. And I guess I never knew what we were playing at with these interactions. I suppose I was hoping we could be close because I know that despite what I'm about to share with you you're a good person. And maybe you were hoping too that despite who I am we could be close. But I'm tired of pretending for the family. I'm tired of hiding from Grandma that her son molested her granddaughter, that he was not the father she thought he was. I'm tired of not speaking up when someone in the family says something bigoted. There are so many beam-filled eyes in the family, it's a wonder anyone can see anything at all.
So I'll share with you now some fundamental truths about our relationship.
One: You and I are not close nor, without a miracle, will we ever be.
And two: This has everything to do with Jesus, God, and Love.
To my understanding, you believe Jesus was the son of God and that he died for our sins; I believe he was the son of God too (in that I believe we are all God-incarnated), but I don't care if he came from Immaculate Conception or a one night stand or a rape or a fairytale, and I don't believe he died for our sins. I agree with you on this point: he was a prophet sent to teach the world about the true nature of love.
Jesus preached the most sacred commandments--to love that which created us and to love each other (for we are all God's children). He did not ask us to "tolerate" each other. He did not say "force your beliefs on each other." He did not decree "give some people rights and deny those same rights to others."
You presume that the Bible, which was neither written by Jesus nor by God, has all the answers in it. You presume that the numerous interpretations of the language in which the book was originally written have been uncorrupted by what is lost in translation and by human beings and their own imperfections and biases. You presume either to know that God did not create queer people or to assume that God did create queer people but damned their love in the same breath. You presume to know what it means to be queer when God has made you a straight woman. You presume to know God's design.
I'm gay and not even I have the audacity to pretend to know why I feel the way I feel about women. I have ideas, but I don't state them as fact because I'm not God and I don't know. What I do know is that it doesn't make sense for a god to create so much variation in sexual and romantic orientation and simultaneously demand that all people, no matter the way their hearts and bodies were designed, love and have sex exactly the same way. And I don't see God stepping out of the heavens to correct the gay penguins or stop other homosexual animals from bonding. Maybe they missed your memo about how God works.
I don't know why I'm gay, but I assume God made me this way for a reason--maybe to teach other people that love is boundless. But the point is I don't need to know why, and I refuse to presume the Truth. I know what's more important than knowing; I know what love feels like, what it is and what it is not.
For instance, I know it is not an act of love when you ask my straight sister about her romantic life but abstain from asking me. I know it is not an act of love to tell another person, either overtly or covertly, that her love is a perversion. I know it is dishonest, disrespectful, and unloving to misappropriate another person's love as "sin" just because you don't understand God's plan (or because you think you understand it).
I will not accept your friend request on Facebook because I anticipate reading posts about a god that has been whittled down to a force that gets squeamish at the notion of two people that have similar looking body folds loving each other; I can't stomach the presumption, hypocrisy, and judgment. I will, however, continue to read your emails and email you back. I will continue to talk to you on the phone. I will even carry on playing board games with you and the rest of the family (some to whom this letter should be addressed as well) during our gatherings, and I will be as kind (but honest, yet) as I can in the moment. I will continue doing these things because I know God is good and because I hold the hope that one day you will stop presuming you know how the Great Mystery works and start loving your fellow queer human beings the way Christ intended so that we can actually have a relationship based on something far more profound than tolerance. Maybe God's waiting for you, too.
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