Still There Is Room

I want to be honest about where I am and where I am not. I am a white lesbian originally from the rural South, in the Episcopal Church, and that is the community I know how to speak from. I can write about what it feels like to look for yourself on a church website and not find yourself easily. I can describe the dreadful thrill of showing up anyway.

I cannot speak for queer people of color. I cannot speak for queer immigrants. I cannot speak for gay men, or for the bisexual, pansexual, asexual, aromantic, and intersex people whose experiences are frequently overlooked even within queer spaces. I cannot speak for the communities whose experience of the church has been shaped by forces I have not personally navigated. The strategies for those communities are listed as coming soon because they are being built with the people who belong in them — not written from the outside and handed over.

We are all already loved. We are all already held. This project starts where I am and reaches toward something larger, and it needs voices I don't have. If you have been doing this work in your community — if you have found language that lands, images that signal safety, pastoral approaches that actually reach people who have been pushed away — I want to hear from you.

What we're looking for

Stories of what your congregation did and what happened. Language that worked when other language didn't. Images, graphics, or communications that you created and want to share. Pastoral approaches for specific communities. Feedback on what's missing or wrong in what's already here.

Nothing will be published without your explicit permission. If you want to be credited, you will be. If you want to contribute anonymously, that is equally welcome.