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What it’s like to be a Queer Woman at a Gay Christian Conference

This is a safe space, right? We can talk about anything, as long as it relates to queer women? So when I tell you I’m a queer Christian, you won’t rule me out as a serious writer, think of me as naive, or call me out as “part of the problem”? Well, it’s certainly your right to. We set ourselves up for that kind of criticism when we come out as Christian.

If you’re wondering if this is a sob story, it’s not, although I know many stories you might label as such that you really should think twice about before dismissing. No, this is a story about a little Houston bubble I lived in for four days and what I took back with me to the real world.

But first, here’s a little bit more about me. I was born and raised in Toronto, so I grew up in a very liberal city. But I was brought up by Portuguese parents, ergo Catholic by default. I went to Catholic elementary schools and a Catholic all-girls high school (sadly not the lesbian dream popular culture makes it out to be), but in Toronto, that’s just the typical public school experience except for mandatory uniforms and religion classes. Growing up, I went to church through school and around the holidays. The only real exception was if somebody in the family had died and, as a result, you went to church for a while in their memories, which is not the greatest association for a young girl to have with church. I just knew I enjoyed the songs and liked that Jesus fella.

When I realized I was gay at 14, that part of my identity became my focus until I was about 21. I knew the Catholic Church didn’t have a place for me or any possible future family of mine, so I just didn’t dwell on that. But I still thought Jesus and Mary were cool! In all seriousness, if I’m a relatively well-adjusted individual today, that’s because despite everything I heard or read to the contrary, I never thought God hated me or that I was going to hell. Not every queer Christian has that, and we should be mindful of this.

Flash-forward several years and I was feeling confident enough in my identity as a gay woman to finally look into what I could feel had been missing: a faith community. I found that amongst sizeable groups (yes, plural) of queer Christians and allies in Toronto. My two worlds had come together, and I finally felt at home spiritually.

Over months and then years of this socializing, I kept hearing about this one event from my new friends: the Gay Christian Network (GCN) Conference. The GCN Conference is the largest annual LGBT Christian event in the world, but of course, I made flimsy excuses like, “That sounds kind of lame” and “I’m not really feeling this year’s city” and even used the classic line, “I don’t think I can get the time off work” to not go. But by the time this latest conference came around, I was working as a freelancer full-time and could set my own schedule, I trusted my friends’ judgment too much to pass the conference off as lame and, as for the city, I could not resist the irony of over 1,000 queer Christians and allies descending on Houston after HERO was repealed. More importantly, I was more comfortable in my faith than I had ever been before. So I went, and now our story really begins.

In 2005, the GCN Conference had its start in Dallas with only 40 people in attendance. In 2016, 1,450 queer Christians and their allies showed up to be in community together in Houston. It was the largest attendance ever, with 48 states and 16 countries represented.

I arrived in Houston on a Wednesday evening, and things immediately got off to a bad start. Upon arrival, it was already dark and raining outside, and all my friends were only arriving the next day. I ate alone at the hotel restaurant and watched TV until I fell asleep. But the next day things did pick up. I just wish I had been in a better state of mind to have appreciated it more.

It always makes me happy when large-scale event organizers realize that women need their own space. GCN gets that and incorporates the WeConnect Women’s Retreat into their conference. Around 160 women attended this year’s retreat, which featured an all-female praise band and amazing guest speakers, including Emmy Kegler, who is the founder and curator of Queer Grace, Marg Herder, who blogs for Christian Feminism Today, Bukola Landis-Aina, who’s on the board of directors for GCN, and more. This was my first brush with the GCN Conference, and it was an incredibly positive introduction. Several of the ladies I literally broke bread with at the event would be my dinner and workshop companions throughout the conference. Thinking back, it’s easy to see how lifelong friendships are formed yearly as a result of this retreat.

I spent the rest of the day attending a first-timers’ meeting, dining with some of the aforementioned women, and taking in an amazing speech about Christianity and social justice from Broderick Greer. And then my night ended, and my moping began.

It wouldn’t have even been 11 pm. After everything I had experienced that day, all I could think was, “This is nothing like my trip to New York City in July. Nobody wants to do anything outside of the conference. I guess this really is a work vacation.” And then I got to my hotel and realized I had lost my wallet. Suddenly there I was in Texas with no cash, credit cards or debit cards, and possibly locked out of my hotel room. Fortunately, I was able to get a replacement card key, and because I had prepaid for my stay, I was able to keep my room even after canceling my credit card. My passport was safely tucked away in my hotel room, so I knew I would have no problems getting home, but there went my plans of visiting the Space Center, checking out the Montrose gayborhood and taking in Texan cuisine to my heart’s content. Again, looking back, not the most fitting of priorities. I knew my Canadian friends at the conference would lend me enough money for food, but even that made me feel bad. I spent a good chunk of the night retracing my steps from my hotel to the conference center (I detoured, so about a 15-minute walk) and calling and visiting the Hilton security desk and GCN’s on-site registration desk. The feedback I got was not hopeful.

After a terrible night’s sleep and no news, I held on to the last little strand of hope I had and called GCN’s registration desk again. Following several minutes of background mumbling, they confirmed they had my wallet. Someone had turned it in! Every piece of plastic and every cash note I had was still in there! What I had somewhat sarcastically said the night before held up: “If you’re going to lose something and hope for it back, a gay Christian conference is the place to do it.”

If it seems like I’m rambling, that’s because “Walletgate” put the rest of my trip into perspective for me and it’s important that I make note of that. Everything was up from there, and I found myself finally “in the moment” and able to appreciate things a lot more.

That day I attended amazing workshops by Paula Williams, a trans woman and former megachurch preaching pastor, and journalist Jeff Chu, who interviewed LGBT Christian Ugandans. And wow, that night. Ashley Phillips thrilled us with her soulful sound and guitar before giving way to Mary Lambert, who brought the house down and connected with fans for hours after the concert. Watching all those couples dancing to her last song of the night, “Same Love,” will always stay with me.

Saturday’s workshops were just as good as the previous day. Kathy Baldock gave a condensed lecture on the history of the cultural and religious discrimination faced by the LGBT community. Say, did you know the origins of the words “gay” and “faggot” aren’t what you probably think they are? Have fun looking that up! I enjoyed the session to the point of buying her book, Walking the Bridgeless Canyon.

And then there was the workshop that I think everyone should have to sit through: Samantha Field, Sarah Moon and Eliel Cruz’s talk and Q&A on bisexuality and faith communities. Myths, recurring negative experiences, bi-erasure. Nothing was off the table. Several people cried. Whatever the reasons for that, what is obvious is that we need more of these discussions and that more gay, lesbian and straight people need to attend them.

The last day of the conference was Sunday and started off, fittingly, with a liturgical service. I showed up a bit late because I had just wrapped up my interview with former Houston Mayor Annise Parker. The service was a great reminder of some of what we had discussed—that Houston, despite the HERO repeal, was still an open city. The success of the GCN Conference seemed to be proof of that. Indeed, in all my time there I never saw more than three protesters fraternizing, and everyone I’ve asked has said the same. At most, according to hotel security, there may have been up to 10 protesters gathered at one point in time. The worst incident appears to be what happened to journalists Eliel Cruz and Betsy Shirley: the two say they were verbally accosted by a hotel guest. A number of GCN Conference-goers were aware of the incident and blasted it over social media, but in the end, it seems most folks didn’t let it define their conference experience.

The GCN Conference officially closed off with AfterConf that Sunday night at the House of Blues. Food, dancing, karaoke—it was a great night. It took staff telling us repeatedly to leave to really put a cap on that portion of the night. My conference experience, however, wasn’t over yet. I had, again, made a new batch of friends and we decided to head out to a local lesbian bar. No, not in Montrose. But I’m happy to report that I checked out the Montrose neighborhood the night before, spent a couple of hours at the Space Center (Ride, Sally, Ride!) before AfterConf, and ate a whole bunch of BBQ and Tex-Mex during my trip.

So I did everything I had originally wanted to do but, as these things go, those experiences weren’t my major highlights, fun as they were. My big takeaways were the people I met and the things I learned. Do you know what a Side B Christian or what a mixed orientation marriage is? I do. Did you know that due to my year of birth I’m technically something called a “Cinnamon Waffle”? I have no idea why this was the name chosen, but I do know the fellow Cinnamon Waffles I met were all awesome. Pretty much everyone was. For good reason, I swapped more business cards and added more Facebook friends than I ever have in four days.

Everything is fresh for me right now, so I’m still in a daze of sorts. I had a friend tell me that it’s weird to be eating lunch alone and mostly focusing on work now. It is. I feel different, somehow. I’ve known about the GCN Conference for over three years, but I wasn’t ready to go before now. That’s the truth. I didn’t feel firm enough in my faith before, and I’m still growing in that regard.

After all, I straddle two worlds. Many fellow Christians don’t get the “gay thing” and there are plenty of queer people who don’t get the “Christian thing.” I’m not out as Christian to all the queer media outlets I work with or to all my queer friends for that very reason. I’m out to only some. Well, I guess now I’m out to anyone who reads this. Good. Because if we hold as true the idea that meeting an LGBT person changes minds, I hope we can make room for the idea that meeting a queer Christian can do the same.

My name’s Daniela, and I’m a queer Christian. I’m one of many. Can we talk about that?

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