Christians Have Made an Idol out of Being Anti-Abortion

Okay, so, I imagine that title alone probably ruffled some feathers, and I’m sure the contents of this article may as well. There may be some who would call me blasphemous or a heretic, or a fake Christian, or say that I’ve been brainwashed by liberals, or any number of other things because they do not agree with this message.

People can say what they want. If someone insists on reading into my words something I’m not saying, or just for whatever reason are committed to not understanding me or hearing me out, I can’t change that, and I don’t want to waste my energy trying to.

But I do want to acknowledge that I am not just pointing fingers at others, or self-righteously saying I’m better than anyone else.

I am writing this because of the person I was for so long – and the fact that I once made an idol out of my pro-life stance. I do write this out of anger, but not out of hatred. I write this out of a fiery passion, because I so deeply want to see justice, love, and truth win.

All of that said, here goes.

I used to be someone who was vehemently pro-life. I would always dismiss anything that wasn’t pro-life, and I specifically listened only to people I already agreed with. I had always been told that certain things were truth, & that they were not to be questioned or challenged (and if they were, they were met with answers often devoid of love & only spoken out of a desire to win an argument).

I have said that abortion is murder. I have judged those who’ve had or considered abortions, even in situations when the pregnancy was life-threatening, or it was the result of rape or incest. I saw this is a black and white topic, with no room for nuances, no gray areas.

It was just wrong, no matter the circumstances, and anyone who got or considered an abortion deserved to be judged.

I didn’t always voice those beliefs. I often wasn’t sure if I even fully agreed with them. But I was so sure they were right, & that there was no need to question what was right.

I regret that now. I know a lot more now that I didn’t know then, and I try to have grace for myself because I am changing, growing, and learning every day. No amount of regrets or self-hate can change the past. I can only learn from what I have done, and try to do better each day.

I grieve because I was so indoctrinated by a system that I loved, that worked well for me, and that I sincerely thought had my best interest at heart. And even on the things that were handed to me within that system that are actually true, there should have been more nuance, more freedom to engage and wrestle and question and challenge and discuss. Ideas shouldn’t have been automatically labeled as good or bad, and never touched again. It didn’t have to be that way, and it shouldn’t have been that way.

And I grieve now, because I can see that the person I once was, is who many people I know and love deeply were, too – and who many still are.

I am angry. Not because people exist who have different opinions than I do.

No, I am angry because I eventually had to face the brutal honesty that I had focused so heavily on information being right or wrong, that I didn’t stop to ask myself if it was truly, wholly, genuinely loving.

It isn’t that I never did this. There were always topics that I did have that practice with – doing my best to talk about things in meaningful and loving ways, and not just harshly speaking truths from a place of vitriol.

But when it came to abortion, this is what I did.

I spewed out the things I had always been told were right, and until the last couple years, I never once stopped to really think about what I was saying, and if it was sincerely loving or not.

I am angry and grieved by this, because even though it has been a stance many Christians have long supported – during the Trump administration, it became abundantly clear that many were willing to look past all of Trump’s wrongdoing and evil, just because of abortion, and their view that they were right, and they had no need to question or challenge any of it.

I am angry and grieved because people like me have been called “baby killers” because we refused to vote Republican in one or more election(s), despite the fact that I & many others who are more left-leaning politically and/or theologically now still talk about how abortion grieves us and how we want abortion numbers to decrease – but we want to address the reasons people get abortions, rather than just making it illegal.

I am angry and grieving because people have decided that this one thing was worth supporting a blatantly & proudly wicked man, and threatening violence (and some even acting on violence) towards those who disagree.

I am angry and grieving because so much of the person and message of Jesus points to caring fiercely for and advocating for marginalized people, but so many only focus on the unborn, and ignore – or even hate and oppose – LGBTQ+ people, BIPOC, religious minorities, disabled & chronically ill people, immigrants & refugees, abuse victims, people living in poverty, and many more.

I am angry and grieving, not because of a simple difference of opinion. I am angry and grieving more than words can adequately say because people have decided that as long as they get what they want, it doesn’t matter what damage is done to anyone else or what evil occurs in the process of them getting what they want.

I am angry and grieving very personally because this was once the person I was. If certain things in my life were different, I could see myself having potentially voted for Trump even if I disliked him, solely because of how caught up I had been in the topic of abortion. And if all of the evil that he did during his term as president was as atrocious as it was, I shudder to think what could’ve happened if he had won a second term.

Sure, maybe there would be less abortions (though I’m not confident of that because there’s been lots of research that has shown that abortions increase under pro-life governments and decrease under pro-choice governments).

But so many people who have already been born would continue to be oppressed, abused, and marginalized just because of their sexual orientation, or religious beliefs, or skin color, with Christians applauding someone who made those things worse than they already were.

I’m not angry or grieving for no reason. I’m not angry or grieving because I think I’m right or that my politics or theology are any better than anyone else’s.

I’m angry and grieving because I can see harm in an ideology I once white-knuckled to keep close to me, because I’ve loosened my grip to examine it more objectively. And I want others to stop white-knuckle gripping this ideology, too.

Trump and the Bible

During Trump’s presidency, but especially in 2020 and his last days in office in 2021, two specific passages of Scripture have repeatedly come to mind because of how so many people – particularly conservative white evangelicals – have so strongly adored Trump.

The first one that came to mind was 1 Samuel 8, in which the Israelites wanted a king, and even after being told what it would be like to have one, they still insisted on a king. (verses 10-18 say, “Samuel told all the words of the Lord to the people who were asking him for a king. He said, ‘This is what the king who will reign over you will claim as his rights: He will take your sons and make them serve with his chariots and horses, and they will run in front of his chariots. Some he will assign to be commanders of thousands and commanders of fifties, and others to plow his ground and reap his harvest, and still others to make weapons of war and equipment for his chariots. He will take your daughters to be perfumers and cooks and bakers. He will take the best of your fields and vineyards and olive groves and give them to his attendants. He will take a tenth of your grain and of your vintage and give it to his officials and attendants. Your male and female servants and the best of your cattle^[c] and donkeys he will take for his own use. He will take a tenth of your flocks, and you yourselves will become his slaves. When that day comes, you will cry out for relief from the king you have chosen, but the Lord will not answer you in that day’.”)

The other passage can be found in the Gospels, when Pilate is with Jesus and explaining to the people he has found nothing wrong that Jesus had done. The people still wanted Barabbas free and for Jesus to be crucified.

In 2015 and 2016 during the election cycle, I know there were some people who wanted Trump from the very beginning. Sure, there were people who said their vote for Trump was a vote for “the lesser of two evils”. But there were plenty who insisted upon him from very early on, when there were plenty of other candidates – Republican, Democrat, and third party – that were available.

It wasn’t until the domestic terrorism at the Capitol on January 6th that some people finally began to renounce Trump.

And yet, there were still plenty of others who continued to support Trump, who said that the insurrectionists were “antifa/BLM” even after that had been debunked by multiple sources (including the FBI). There were still people saying things like “it’s 1776 again”, being ready to go to war, and do whatever it would take to keep Trump in office – even if that meant overthrowing the government and murdering people who have not supported Trump or done what he wanted all the time.

And these people still say they love the same God I do, that they read the same Scriptures I do, that they are pro-life, that we should “pray for our leaders”, etc. These are people who were very quick to criticize many of the protests from 2020 – the vast majority of which were peaceful, and when the point was to protest the unjust murders of Black people like George Floyd, Rayshard Brooks, Daniel Prude, Breonna Taylor, Atatiana Jefferson, and many more (https://interactive.aljazeera.com/aje/2020/know-their-names/index.html many are named & pictured at this site). These people were outraged over the outrage for murders of Black people, yet had no problem with the violence at the Capitol because of a lost election.

It’s been very well proven that the election was not stolen, but even if it had been, it does not in any way justify the violence at the Capitol on January 6th. There is no legitimate justification for that. But that’s all Trump supporters seem to be capable of – justifying every single thing Trump says and does, and accepting anything pro-Trump as 100% truth while anything not pro-Trump is 100% lies.

I’m disgusted by this. I’m horrified by it. I’m not surprised Trump supporters resorted to violence (and desired to gruesomely murder many Democrats as well as Republicans who were not just going along with what Trump wanted, including Mike Pence), but I could never have imagined what watching the videos of what happened would feel like. I have no doubt that many people will have PTSD/C-PTSD after that. If it weren’t for my mental health meds, I’m sure I’d be doing a lot worse.

I had been angrier, justifiably, during Trump’s presidency than I ever had before in my life. And while I believe anger can certainly be a good thing, and is healthy in some circumstances, I’m tired of being angry. I’m tired of injustice after injustice after injustice, with a significant number of people rejoicing in that injustice. I’m tired of evil, dangerous people like Trump having power when they are the last people who should have power. And yet, there have been people tired of these things for longer than I have. As a white U.S. Christian, I do not know the same oppression that BIPOC or religious minorities experience. I also do not know the persecution that Christians have faced in certain places and times in history (21st century America is certainly not a place or time where persecution of Christians, especially white Christians, occurs). Even though on some level I do know oppression – as a disabled and chronically ill person – I still am privileged in other ways.

I have taken care of myself and continue to do so. But being tired of and angry at repeated injustices is something that will likely continue, and something that I intend to lead me toward pursuing justice as much as I can. I may not be able to do a lot, but I will do what I can. I will do the right thing, even when it isn’t popular or what Republicans approve of.

I will follow Jesus as best I can, and right now, that means naming the evils of the Trump administration because many people suffered unnecessarily under Trump’s presidency. It was wrong, it was sinful; it didn’t have to happen and it shouldn’t have happened. I will continue to insist that Trump needs to face the consequences of his actions, because he absolutely does. He should not be able to get away with anything he wants to.

Despite all of the evidence that Trump is a wicked person, I’m sure he will still have support. I’m sure some will continue to want him in power, just as the people in the Bible verses I listed above wanted a king (1 Samuel 8) and Barabbas (from the Gospels). I’m sure people will still cry about being “attacked” or “persecuted” when they are really just facing consequences for their words and actions. I would love to be proven wrong about these things, I’d love for everyone universally to understand the truth about Trump. But some people are interested only in confirmation bias, not the truth.

I don’t wish harm on Trump or Trump supporters, but I am very angry because of how they have spoken and acted over the years. It shouldn’t have come to this, but it did. It angers God and breaks God’s heart that people would be so devoted to an evil person that they’d try to violently overthrow a government and murder people. It angers me and breaks my heart, too.

I will continue to follow Jesus, and for me, that looks like speaking up when I can about evil and evildoers. Jesus wasn’t silent or passive about this, and I will not be either.

Continuing on the Deconstruction Journey

I didn’t want to deconstruct. In so many ways, it felt more like destruction – something violently painful that no life could ever spring from. I was comfortable within the conservative Christianity I knew. I was fine with just being “not racist”, I didn’t feel like I had to be anti-racist. I was fine with being non-affirming of LGBTQ+ folks, because I wasn’t pro-conversion therapy, I didn’t ever try to actively harm that community, and I felt that I was already a loving and compassionate enough person. I felt like any relationship with a non-Christian had to be one in which I proselytized, rather than learning more about their beliefs and respecting their personal choice on what religious beliefs they would or would not adhere to.

To deconstruct these and other harmful ideas was scary. I thought I had the ultimate truth, the message that was for the entire world, that if everyone just understood and agreed with all the same things I believed, that we would all be “saved” and accepted by God.

To deconstruct meant that I had to question everything.

And as someone who has never naturally been one to doubt or question, that was utterly terrifying.

And yet, I’d always been told to “test everything”

To be wary of false, wayward teachings dressed up as truth

Well, it turns out that being a loving, inclusive, affirming, welcoming person wasn’t some “liberal agenda” I needed to worry about. But engaging – even passively – in a system that is highly toxic and often leads to death (whether literal or metaphorical, depending on the person and the situation) is so much worse. To know that, even when I didn’t condone the harm done to others, that I didn’t speak up or try to change things when I had a voice that others listened to – my heart breaks. I grieve that.

I was doing the best I could with the information I had, and I try to remember this and be gracious towards my younger self. No amount of regrets will let me go back in time and change what happened. But I have learned and grown, and I continue to learn and grow, and I try to make more loving choices now that I have a better understanding of what genuine and wholehearted love looks like.

These lyrics from Sleeping At Last’s enneagram One song sum up my faith journey well: “I hold it all more loosely, and yet somehow much more dearly”. I no longer white-knuckle-grip my faith. And what I’ve found is that, even with more uncertainty, there is less fear – before, I had so much fear about “what if I’m wrong?” because I didn’t know if I could handle everything I knew falling apart and being shattered. Now, when I ask, “what if I’m wrong?” it isn’t out of fear but out of love and curiosity, and a willingness to learn. I really do hold these beliefs more loosely now…and yet I find that my faith now is so much richer, deeper, and more profound and beautiful than it was when I couldn’t seem to let go of any of it.

I easily could’ve stayed within the faith system I was raised in. I often benefitted from it. I liked it and thrived in it for a long time. I was very often placed on a pedestal and admired as “the ideal Christian”.

If I wanted an easy faith, a convenient spirituality, I absolutely could’ve remained that way.

But the questions came, regardless of what I wanted or was comfortable with. To ignore them and live the life I’d been living would have been inauthentic, and that would have (metaphorically) killed me.

It was hard at first, and some days still is. I’m a vastly different person than I ever imagined I would be. Sometimes I cannot help but wonder if I was right when I was younger, if I’ve been “led astray”, if all this change which I’ve made in good faith attempts to become the person I was made to be is wrong.

And yet, when I choose Love, “right” and “wrong” fade away. They become much less important. Because always analyzing what – and who – is right and wrong leads to boxes that do not allow for the messy, wild, imperfect beauty that is humanity. Trying to stay in the lines and within what is known does not work with radical love.

This is still difficult and painful. I’m not sure it will ever stop feeling that way – because I am a much different person now than I once was, and for better or for worse, that is a thing I grieve. I never would have guessed this path would one day be mine.

And yet, here I am

So I continue deconstructing and reconstructing, and I realize

Even when this feels like destruction, from which nothing good or beautiful or true or life-giving could ever come

There is always a light at the end of the tunnel. Love gets the final word. So, above all else, I pursue love.

Anger and Grief

I’m hurting.

I had another post ready for this week, that I have decided to publish next week instead.

I feel overwhelmed by grief. I am feeling every synonym for anger. I have cursed and cried and lamented over the terrorism at the Capitol earlier this week. I have posted on my social media accounts about the anger, sadness, fear, hurt, betrayal I am feeling. I couldn’t be silent.

I’m particularly enraged at white evangelicals, who very specifically wanted Trump from the beginning. In 2016 they could’ve chosen any other candidate – Republican, Democrat, or third party – and I think any of them would’ve been more competent and responsible than Trump. Maybe only marginally, but still better.

And yet, here we are.

Because Trump supporters – who are largely white evangelicals – have insisted that the radical left is a threat, but the radical right is good for America, that there’s nothing wrong with far-right extremism, that far right-wing ideologies would “make America great again”.

I grew up with many conservative white evangelicals. These are people who I loved dearly and looked up to for years.

And now, any trust I had has been shattered.

I’ve seen people like Beth Moore and Phil Vischer speaking up about evils like this. I’ve seen some Republicans condemning this.

But it just doesn’t feel like enough, considering everything that has happened in Trump’s presidency that people warned us of before he was elected president in 2016.

Trump inciting violence isn’t surprising.

But this was avoidable. This was preventable. If white evangelicals had actually stood up for the things they’ve taught us to value all these years, we could’ve had a very different few years.

But white evangelicals proudly showed their hypocrisy to the U.S. and to the world. They showed us that they aren’t interested in the historically accurate Jesus, but they are highly enthusiastic about their white, right-wing, power-hungry Jesus who demonizes anyone that doesn’t vote Republican.

They’ve shown us what they really care about, and what lengths they will go to just to get what they want – no matter what damage it causes.

And so, the past few days, I have been grieving. I have been furious. I have felt a complete betrayal by those who I thought I could trust for years. Any last slivers of hope I had of them coming to their senses and realizing how wrong they were are now gone. Destroyed. Obsolete.

And I weep because I know that Joe Biden & Kamala Harris being in office won’t magically change things. There will be so much work to do.

This is a wound I’m not sure will ever fully heal. Because too many Christians have made it loud and clear that Trump is their god. They have demonstrated that they are willing to use violence to get what they want.

Even though I have every intention to continue following Jesus, I’m not even sure I still want to use the label Christian. I know that I can never again be a conservative or an evangelical. My soul cries out for justice, but I don’t know how many of us are committed to justice.

A Reflection on 2020

Hi friends. “2020 was so difficult” certainly isn’t a new or unique idea or concept just to me. But I want to talk for a bit about some of the things I’ve survived this past year:

-having spring break off from work in my former job (childcare), walking out the week before not knowing it was the last time I’d be seeing my boss, coworkers, the kids & their families, etc. (because of COVID)

-my cat’s death in May

-a scam in which I thought I’d gotten a job that would allow me to start saving up money to eventually move out and be more independent and be financially stable, and upon realizing it was a scam I was terrified and ashamed and crushed (thankfully the only thing that was really taken from me was my old facebook account, which I’d deactivated for awhile anyway and I have a new one now)

-the months of May-August always hold several trauma-versaries for me, and it’s always a challenge to get through the summer; this one, more than any other previous year, felt unbearably long and never-ending

-an ongoing & very exhausting, draining, depleting, discouraging, etc. process of job searching and trying to find something that would allow me financial stability and more independence, but also flexibility and letting me work from home due to the pandemic

-being touch starved (I love hugs and physical touch in general; this has been so hard)

-having an intense flare up beginning on October 31, which was also the first anniversary of the death of a beloved friend; during this time my mental health was also not great, and I had suicidal thoughts and self-harm urges similar to what I’d experienced before I got diagnosed or treated for anxiety & depression in March 2016 (thankfully with the help of some professionals & friends, and adjusting some meds I was on as well as adding new one(s) into the mix, I was able to recover physically and mentally but it was not easy)  

-I learned that of the responses fight, flight, fawn, and freeze, that I freeze a lot and that has definitely been true of so much of the trauma I’ve survived in 2020

-I continued my faith journey of deconstruction and reconstruction, trying to figure out how to follow Jesus as someone who no longer fits into the boxes of conservative Christianity (and specifically evangelicalism which I was raised in); my faith feels deeper, richer, more profound now, but no longer fitting the mold of what was once so familiar to me has been painful

These are just a few things; honestly a lot of this year has been blocked out of my memory, and I’m pretty used to that trauma response of some memories being blocked out, but I don’t normally experience it with more recent memories. This was a new thing I had to learn to understand so that I could continue processing and healing mentally, emotionally, and physically from so much of what I’ve endured in 2020 and in past years.

I’ve been on edge and betrayed and deeply wounded this year, and I have learned more about how necessary it is for me to validate all of that pain for myself and also for others going through similar things. Ignoring it or pretending it’s not real helps no one. But also: so many people have showed up in beautiful, powerful ways for me this year. The day my cat was euthanized, I was sent $60 via paypal so that I could buy a memorial gift. Multiple people offered to make artwork of my cat too. Many people – including strangers – grieved with me and also let me grieve with them in their stories of pet loss as well. Through the situation with the job scam, because I was feeling very traumatized by it all – people offered comforting words to me and affirmed my worth; a friend offered to help me with my resume and cover letter and helped some with finding jobs; people prayed with me through the job search and were hopeful with me when good news came and hurting with me when bad news came. As I educated myself and some others on ableism, people committed to listening and learning and doing better when they realized they had messed up. I found others who were also on the process of deconstruction, and who empathized with me in all of the good and bad that can come along that journey. I found people who didn’t freak out when I had questions or doubts or uncertainty, but who sat with me and reassured me that my life is worth more than whether I have certainty or knowledge – it is in simply being a human being, reflective of the image of God, in being who I am – I have worth simply because I exist and I am me. People played video games and video chats and group messages when we couldn’t be together to celebrate holidays or birthdays, or when we couldn’t be together to grieve losses (of loved ones, of jobs, of health, of anything really). People let me feel and express raw, painful emotions. People let me be more human and talk about my suffering. People let me lean into my experiences, the good and the bad, and did not tell me I was “too much” or “dramatic” or “exaggerating”. People believed me when I spoke up about hard things. People held me and loved me through all of the grief and joy that this life brings.

And as awful as so much of this year was, as much pain and grief and regret and betrayal and just general badness that this year brought…I will be forever grateful for those around me who helped me, and others, survive. I will be forever grateful for those who insisted that I was and am worthy of love and rest and grace and peace and hope even when I couldn’t believe that about myself. I’m grateful for the people who brought joy and light and fun and laughter into a year when those things seemed so out of reach, so elusive, so distant. I’m grateful for the people who saw Trump for who he is and voted him out, so that people like me would have a chance of not surviving just 2020 but hopefully many more years.

This year sucked and brought indescribable amounts of pain. This year also had, though few and far between, moments of light peeking in, life-giving times, experiences that dispelled the despair and pain and fatigue, even if only briefly.

This year was, to put it briefly, a lot. In many ways it was more than I could handle. There were absolutely times I never imagined I’d survive.

And yet, here we are, friends. It’s January 1st 2021. Here I am.

I don’t know if I’ve really grown or accomplished or in any measurable way become a better person.

But I survived.

And perhaps, for now – that is enough. I don’t need to have done great things.

Maybe, considering all that happened in 2020…maybe my survival is enough. And maybe the years in the past that I just survived, it was enough then too.

An Observation

Something that I noticed in the 2016 election is happening again now. As people share their thoughts and opinions on the Republican and Democrat candidates, I’ve noticed that a significant number of the moderates and liberals in my life are able to both critique and praise various political figures (including but not limited to the presidential candidates), and find strengths and weaknesses in politicians regardless of their party affiliations. However, pro-Trump conservatives are not doing this. (Disclaimer: this is based on my experiences and observations. If yours are different, that’s fine. I am not speaking for every single person, I am speaking of what I’ve seen, both now and four years ago).

In 2016, conservatives continually harped on Hillary Clinton, “the email lady”. They either ignored or made justifications for all of Trump’s red flags. And now in 2020, with Joe Biden, they are focusing on the abortion issue, and again continuing to ignore or justify Trump’s red flags (in spite of all we’ve seen during his presidency).

Certainly, this isn’t new. The Christian Right is not shy about voicing their views on abortion (but they refuse to address things that could decrease abortions and only want to make it illegal; here’s an article that goes into more detail on that: https://www.americanprogress.org/issues/women/news/2006/01/20/1796/the-right-way-to-reduce-abortion/). But it seems to be more of a focus this election, despite the fact that Trump is absolutely not pro-life at all. He (and many pro-lifers) are only pro-life when it comes to babies in wombs. But when it comes to LGBTQIA+ lives, Black & Brown lives, immigrant lives, disabled lives, religious minorities’ lives, and other marginalized people, they aren’t pro-life at all. People like George Floyd, Breonna Taylor, Atatiana Jefferson, and far too many other BIPOC who have been killed because of racism (https://interactive.aljazeera.com/aje/2020/know-their-names/index.html here is a list of the names of many Black people who’ve been killed by police in the US); Serge F. Kovaleski, the disabled reporter that Trump mocked (https://www.washingtonpost.com/news/fact-checker/wp/2016/08/02/donald-trumps-revisionist-history-of-mocking-a-disabled-reporter/); the people who have been separated from their families at the border; and countless others are exactly why I believe that not only is Trump not pro-life, he is pro-violence and pro-death.

I’m tired of this being our reality. Marginalized people deserve so much better than this.

Hope in Darkness, Hope In Light

“I think both versions are lovely, and bring up different emotions; both evoke hope, but the original speaks of a bright future from the beginning. The second version reaches for hope out of darkness and tragedy. Both are beautiful and powerful, but I admit that I enjoy the original more, because I grew up with that rendition. I also love its bright, catchy, happy outlook. But as I say, both are wonderful.”

This is a comment underneath the following video:

I love the musical Godspell, and lately in particular as I’ve been feeling the weight of so much tragedy on personal, national, and global levels, Beautiful City is a song I’ve been listening to on repeat. (The whole soundtrack is wonderful, but 2020 has really given me a deeper appreciation for this specific song).

I think that the two versions of this song have lyrics and music that really capture the idea that hope exists in the best and worst of times.

Lyrics from the movie version:

Come sing me sweet rejoicing
Come sing me love
We’re not afraid of voicing
All the things
We’re dreaming of
Oh, high and low,
And everywhere we go

We can build
A beautiful city
Yes we can
Oh yes we can
We can build
A beautiful city
Call it out
And call it the city of man

We don’t need alabaster
We don’t need chrome
We’ve got our special plaster
Take my hand (Take my hand)
I’ll take you home (I’ll take you home!)
We see nations rise
In each other’s eyes (in each other’s eyes!)

We can build (we can build)
A beautiful city (a beautiful city)
Yes we can
Oh yes we can
We can build (we can build)
A beautiful city (a beautiful city)
Call it out
And call it the city of man

Come sing me sweet rejoicing
Come sing me love
We’re not afraid of voicing
All the things (all the things)
We’re dreaming of (we’re dreaming of)
Oh, high and low,
And everywhere we go (everywhere we go)

We can build (we can build)
A beautiful city (a beautiful city)
Yes we can
Oh yes we can
We can build (we can build)
A beautiful city (a beautiful city)
Call it out
And call it the city of man

Lyrics from the stage version:

Out of the ruins and rubble, out of the smoke, out of our night of struggle, can we see a ray of hope?

One pale thin ray, reaching for the day we can build a beautiful city

Yes we can, yes we can

We can build a beautiful city, not a city of angels, but we can build a city of man.

We may not reach the ending, but we can start

Slowly but truly mending, brick by brick and heart by heart

Now, maybe now, we start learning how we can build a beautiful city

Yes we can, yes we can

We can build a beautiful city, not a city of angels, but we can build a city of man.

When your trust is all but shattered, when your faith is all but killed

You can give up bitter and battered, or you can slowly start to build a beautiful city

Yes we can, yes we can

We can build a beautiful city, not a city of angels

But finally a city of man

Stop Using Ableism To Defend Your Politics

This is an excellent article (that I believe the author still updates from time to time, though I could be mistaken) that explains what some ableist terms are, replacements that aren’t offensive or discriminatory, and why the terms are ableist. I’ve referred back to it multiple times personally, and recommend it often to others when there’s a question of if something is ableist or what can be used to talk about something without using ableist language. https://www.autistichoya.com/p/ableist-words-and-terms-to-avoid.html

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Lately I’ve been seeing lots of people talking about both Trump and Biden, as well as their supporters, using ableist language. This isn’t new; it happened in 2016 with Hillary Clinton as well, and over the years has happened with many other public figures. Ableist language is used to describe people who aren’t public figures as well, but I will specifically be talking about when it’s used to refer to public figures in this article (specifically Trump and Biden), because there are different dynamics in this usage.

If someone knowingly & intentionally insults disabled, chronically ill, and neurodivergent people who aren’t public figures, it’s safe to assume they aren’t teachable and will not change their language. But if someone – intentionally or unintentionally – uses ableist language to describe public figures, but doesn’t use that language to describe non-public figures, it’s typically either that they don’t know they are using ableist language, or they do know but think it’s fine when they’re talking about someone with bad character.

The thing is, ableism is still ableism regardless of who it’s directed at. Awhile ago on Twitter, the hashtags #TrumpWearsAdultDiapers and #TrumpIsNotWell were going around. Those are both ableist. They may have been made in jest, they may have had critiques of his character, but at the end of the day equating medical symptoms, diagnoses, or treatments with a person’s character is still ableism. Likewise, people have mocked Joe Biden for his stutter, and have assumed because of that that he is unfit for office.

Personally I don’t think it’s ableist to acknowledge that not every job is doable for every disabled, chronically ill, or neurodivergent person. There are plenty of jobs that would be impossible or incredibly difficult for me; acknowledging that isn’t ableism, it’s simply honesty about my reality. I also think there’s a difference between a medical professional’s educated and researched opinion on what conditions can make a person unfit for a particular job, and people armchair-diagnosing someone just because they don’t like them or disagree with their policies.

This isn’t about the possible diagnoses that Trump and/or Biden may have that would make them unfit for office, though. And the truth is, there are disabled, chronically ill, and neurodivergent people who can lead and govern well. My concerns about either of them winning the 2020 election aren’t about what health issues they do or don’t have, it’s about their character and policies. Stutter or no stutter, adult diapers or no adult diapers, those are things that do not disqualify someone or make them lesser than or unable to be a leader.

And chances are, using words or phrases like “liberalism/conservatism is a mental disorder”, “libtard” (or any form of the word “retard”), “deranged”, “unhinged”, “crazy”, “stupid”, “dumb”, “triggered” (specifically as a joke – “I’m so triggered”/”they’re so triggered” when you are not referring to actual mental health triggers like PTSD/C-PTSD triggers), etc. won’t hurt or affect Trump or Biden. But it will contribute to stigmas associated with various diagnoses.

This post is not referring to or the result of “political correctness” or a “liberal agenda”. And quite frankly, it’s not a political post, either. This language is used by conservatives, moderates, and liberals and it is wrong no matter who is using the language or who the language is directed towards. This is purely about respect for human beings, specifically people like me who are disabled, chronically ill, and/or neurodivergent. This is about treating others as you would want to be treated & loving your neighbor as yourself. Equating bad character with any medical condition is ableism. There are healthy people and sick people who are committed to saying and doing what is morally right, and there are healthy people and sick people who are committed to saying and doing what is morally wrong. A person’s health status is not an indication of their ethics or their character.

Ten Years

Being chronically ill impacts every area of life. It has touched my productivity levels and involvement in school, in jobs, in volunteer work, in churchgoing, in family gatherings, just to name a few things. There are a lot of feelings wrapped up in this day & this month for me. There were definitely times I never thought I’d get to see myself a decade later. There were, and are, days when the pain and fatigue just won’t let up. I have good medications, supplements, and medical professionals I work with to give myself some kind of quality of life. What I have isn’t fatal or terminal, but it still impacts every area of life. I’m still learning how to best take care of myself and how to give myself grace in my weakest and most painful moments.

Tangentially related, I want to talk about absences from schools & workplaces. My experience as a chronically ill & disabled person, even in the early days, I realized was very different from my classmates’ (& later coworkers’) attitudes with which they approached absences.

At the school I attended from 4^th-12^th grade, at my university, as well as my previous job, there were rules about excused & unexcused absences. But even for excused absences, you could only have so many before your grades would be affected (in school) or you’d removed from the schedule (at work).

What I found is that many people viewed these essentially as “vacation days”. If they didn’t feel like coming in to work or school, if they’d rather hang out with friends or play video games or go shopping or whatever, they’d take that day off.

I became chronically ill ten years ago yesterday (9/3/2010), and up to that point I never really took a day off unless I was sick. But even more, once I became chronically ill, I knew I absolutely couldn’t see my limited number of excused absences as a day to take off to do whatever I wanted. Even during the times when the pain and fatigue were unrelenting, I knew my options were either being in pain & fatigued at work/school, but not falling behind, or staying home in pain & fatigued, able to rest but falling behind. It often felt like there were no good options.

My junior year of high school, there was a stretch of time (several months) when I was in constant pain. The pain levels fluctuated, but every single day I’d have either a headache or migraine all day (with occasional relief from caffeine or medication, but it would never last more than a few hours). 3-4 days of the week I’d be around a level 8-9 pain (based on a 1-10 scale), and the rest of the week I’d be around a level 4. I knew that whether I stayed home or went to school, it would make no difference in my pain, so I tried to attend school as often as possible, saving my absence days for my worst days of pain, or times when I had something contagious. But school was difficult. Understanding assignments, trying to communicate with teachers and other students, having to read almost everything – even the simplest things – at least 2-3 times (if not more) just to comprehend it, etc. and I just generally found most schoolwork to be nearly impossible regardless of how easy or difficult the class was because of my pain and fatigue.

Though my physical pain levels lightened up a little bit during my senior year, depression & anxiety cranked up for me at that time. In March 2016 I was finally able to get a diagnosis and medication for these issues, and though it eventually started working (and still works very well to this day), the first week or so were, quite frankly, hell. I had to miss school because as my body adjusted to the med, those first few days I dealt with nausea, vomiting, fever, chills, level 9-10 migraines, and more. After several days those side effects went away and, mentally and emotionally speaking, I felt better than I had in a long time.

In college I finally started getting treatments for my migraines, though it’s been a long, meandering path to figure out what does and does not work for me. My current set of migraine meds is very effective, thankfully, but in fall 2017 I was bedridden for a large part of the semester due to my pain and fatigue levels. Most days I was lucky if I was able to get one meal in. I was so bedridden and had so much pain and fatigue that I couldn’t brush my hair most days, and I ended up getting lots of knots in my hair (thankfully I was eventually able to go to a haircut place where they de-knotted my hair, trimmed it, and washed it to help it be cleaner and healthier).

There are lots of conversations amongst disabled & chronically ill people about school & workplace absences being ableist in general, and I think those are good things to discuss. But my point in this isn’t about whether those specific policies are good or bad, it’s about how I’ve seen countless people treat those policies over the years. Throughout the last decade, I’ve seen and heard lots of talk about it as if it’s a casual thing. But I don’t have the option to see it as nothing more than a “vacation day”. It has to be for my worst days of pain and fatigue. I don’t want to scare or judge or guilt-trip anyone in writing this, I just want healthy people to understand and empathize with those who are disabled/chronically ill, and also be aware that anyone in any moment could become disabled and/or chronically ill. It will very likely feel arbitrary and unfair. If and when that happens to you, please take all the time you need to process whatever feelings you have – guilt, anger, sadness, confusion, etc. It is a lot to take in. But don’t assume that you’re healthy because you’ve done all the right things, and I’m sick because I haven’t. Two people could make all the same decisions and have different health outcomes, because illness doesn’t discriminate. (Note: discrimination comes from people & systems. That said, certain demographics, for various reasons, are more susceptible to illness – often because of discrimination from said people/systems. For example, poor people and Black people are two groups who have been hit harder by COVID-19 due to various medical biases. That doesn’t mean they are inherently “sicker” or “weaker” than wealthier people or white people, it simply means they are minorities that are more likely to experience bias in medicine that people who aren’t minorities may experience less often or not at all).

I hope that with each new day as I enter into decade number two of chronic illness that I can continue learning more about how my body & brain work, what I can & cannot handle, and how to be gracious and loving with myself through all of the good & bad.

To all who’ve gone alongside me on this path, whether you’ve been here since day 1 or just within the last year – I love you and I’m thankful for you. And to all who are disabled, neurodivergent, and/or chronically ill, I am with you in this. I empathize with you and I understand. I hope you can be gracious, patient, kind, and loving with yourself on your best days and your worst days, and every day in between. 

Lyrics – Jason Gray, “Honesty”

This song has helped me so much the past few months in processing my grief and pain (both emotional and physical) honestly and healthily. I hope and pray that when you face any kind of grief, loss, pain, or other difficulty, that songs like this can help carry you through that.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=6aLj-Cz7aog

If I told You I still trusted You, I’d honestly be lying through my teeth
But it’s funny how it’s always You I’m talkin’ to when I say I don’t believe
I tell You leave, but You won’t go
I’m in so deep, and I don’t know what’s goin’ on

I gave You my heart
So, tell me, why is it broken?
If You’re the healer, why are my wounds still open?
What do You want from me?
Are You sure You want everything, even my honesty?

I’m sorry if this comes out wrong
I’m afraid I shouldn’t talk with you this way
But I hope you hear my heart that hurts
Buried in the angry words I say
I told You leave but please don’t go
I’m in so deep, and I don’t know
What’s goin’ on

I gave You my heart
So, tell me, why is it broken?
If You’re the healer, why are my wounds still open?
What do You want from me?
Are You sure You want everything, even my honesty?
Even my honesty?
Even my honesty?

Hallelujah, hallelujah hallelujah, I’m goin’ through hell
Hallelujah, hallelujah, I’m still singing that it is well
Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, I’m goin’ through hell
Hallelujah, hallelujah, I’m still singing

I know You’ve promised that You won’t leave me broken
But right now I need to know You’re here in this moment
Why won’t You answer me? What do You want from me?
When all I can bring You is my doubt and my anger
You’d still rather fight with me than let us be strangers
Is that what You want from me? The way You get close to me
Are You sure You want all of me?
All of my agony? All of my questioning?
Even my honesty?
Even my honesty
Even my honesty

Hallelujah, hallelujah, hallelujah, I’m goin’ through hell
Hallelujah, hallelujah, I’m still singing

I Wasn’t Looking for a Side A Church

http://www.comingout4christians.net/side-a-side-b-primer.html explanation of Sides A & B if you’re unfamiliar with these terms 

• Side A: LGBTQIA+ affirming, anti-conversion therapy
• Side B: LGBTQIA+ non-affirming, anti-conversion therapy
• Side X: LGBTQIA+ non-affirming, pro-conversion therapy

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I wasn’t looking for a Side A church. I’ve been in Side B and Side X environments my whole life. While many of the people around me had differing views on conversion therapy, pretty much everyone agreed that LGBTQIA+ people were living in sin, had no moral compass, and/or were headed to hell.

Though I have my fair share of religious trauma, and have experienced spiritual abuse at the hands of people who I thought genuinely loved me, this was one area in which I was fine with another Side B church. I realized I was very much opposed to conversion therapy, so I didn’t want a church that would promote that as good or healthy or godly. Additionally, being in the south, I assumed I’d have to go someplace like California to find a Side A church – a place that is notoriously more progressive/liberal than anywhere else I’ve lived and most other places I’ve visited in the US. (I’m glad I was wrong. Though I’m not at all opposed to visiting or living in California one day, even before the pandemic I was at a point in life where I couldn’t move anywhere, but especially out of state, on my own).

I wasn’t looking for a Side A church, but in finding a Side A church, I found a place where I’ve never had a better understanding of the Bible. I found a place where the people care deeply and fiercely for those who are of non-Christian religions, abuse victims, BIPOC,  and otherwise marginalized. I found a place where those who are privileged strive to use their privilege and power for the good of all, not just their own comfort or convenience. I found a place that cares about both equality and equity.

I wasn’t looking for a Side A church, but what I found was a place where I, a neurodivergent and chronically ill/disabled person, am seen as someone who is no less made in the image of God than neurotypical and abled/healthy people. I’ve found a space where I don’t need to defend my faith as a sick person from those who believe in the prosperity gospel (aka word of faith, health & wealth, name it and claim it, etc. theology), because I’m simply accepted & welcomed as I am – a sick Christian. It is seen & affirmed as my reality, rather than viewed as an oxymoron or contradiction.

 

I wasn’t looking for a Side A church, but I’m really glad I found the one I did.

https://www.collectivechurch.net/home