pulling the thread

on expanding beyond Christianity & finding my queerness in the aftermath

you can listen to the essay portion of this newsletter via the audio recording above.

The world is so much bigger than the Christianity I was raised in allowed me to believe. I was not exposed to the diversity of thought, experience, and expression that exists in our beautiful world. In fact, being different, “other”, was demonized, even within the wide umbrella of Christianity. I distinctly remember the pastor of the PCA church I grew up in disparaging Southern Baptists from the pulpit. 

As a full-fledged adult, living beyond the confines of Christianity, I have been discovering the world with fresh eyes. I am taking in so much more, without judgment, than I ever had the chance to do under my parents’ roof. While I’ve been able to open my mind and heart to the world and the beautifully varying forms humanity takes, I’ve had trouble turning that compassionate acceptance and softness inward. It makes me nervous that I still have so much shame and judgment towards myself, because isn’t what we believe about ourselves ultimately what we believe about others? 

I want so badly to be good. It’s been burned into me, the desire to be good. Especially since goodness was never offered to me as a permanent and immutable state of being; rather something I must strive for, something I must earn, and most importantly something I could only receive from an external source through faith in a very specific anglicized god. My shame desperately begs me to internalize that I am good. 

I was taught to believe I was born bad. Very bad. Worthy of burning in hell bad. The refrain for this tenet of Calvinism is “total depravity”. I was young when I met with the elders to be able to take communion and get baptized. That 8-year-old sat in front of a bunch of middle-aged men (mostly white) and whole-heartedly believed that she was totally depraved and in need of a savior, and that savior was Jesus Christ. I had ‘accepted him into my heart’ in the form of the Holy Spirit, which was the only way I could ever expect to do or be or bring anything good into the world. And I wanted so badly to be good. And I still do. 

Now I know that being good actually doesn’t matter as much as being compassionate and accountable. Maybe being wholly good is a puritanical myth, maybe the kind of holiness an old part of me is reaching for doesn’t exist in the mess and mire of humanity. 

My dad was the executive director of Rhode Island’s branch of the National Organization for Marriage, an organization lobbying to keep same-sex marriage illegal in the 2010s. Needless to say, being queer in my household was not an option (not to mention the psychological damage that came with my family’s financial stability being directly tied to the queer community not having rights). So much so that it didn’t even occur to me that I am bisexual until after I graduated college. I was on the path to marrying some devout Christian man and becoming a missionary. Or was I? Looking back, I’m not sure that ever could have happened, because I have always been me. 

If heterosexuality was the only valid sexual orientation in my pysche at the time, you can imagine the fact that gender could be anything different than the sex you were assigned at birth, also didn’t occur to me. And I am non-binary. I was a closeted kid, in my family yes, but even to myself. I don’t believe I suddenly became bisexual at 22 or non-binary at 24. These were deep truths I realized about myself given the safety and space to explore my identity and release a performance that never really fit to begin with. 

I know this, because I know this, and also because I have memories of arguing with my dad about legislating other people’s sexuality in middle school. I remember reading Ephesians 5 and telling my dad I could never get married if it required me to submit to a man. Femininity, especially makeup, dresses, and trying to look desirable for men (or trying to dress to not tempt men, smh) always felt like a strange performance, one that never fit, even if outwardly I was successfully playing the part. Womanhood came with so many restrictions, rules and expectations, now I’ve had to reject it all together to feel like there is a space for me. 

I have been who I am all along. It’s just that I spent 22ish years of my life in environments that were not interested in nurturing my unbridled self-expression and accepting and celebrating whoever I decided to be. That’s a long time to be playing a part, a long time to be sitting in the dissonance of what I feel at my core and the chorus of should bes and supposed tos. 

Of course, it eventually all unraveled. Slowly, like pulling a thread on a tapestry. Living in Chile, outside an entirely Christian environment for the first extended period of my life. Making friends and having meaningful relationships with people who grew up differently than me. A seminar senior year on the Theology of Sexuality and realizing that my equality, and everyone else’s, was actually not up for debate. Letting myself go on casual dates and make out with near strangers, and still find myself whole. Sitting in church and not believing a single word I was singing. Started kissing my friends.

The itch of inauthenticity became unbearable. So I stopped. Stopped going to church. Stopped reading the bible. Stopped praying. Stopped listening to worship music. Stopped viewing everything through Christian morals. And the world opened up to me while I opened up to myself. I finally answered the question “Sage, are you bi?” with a resounding yes and quickly told all my people, and was celebrated (see screenshots below). It felt so good. Once the sexuality question was more or less resolved, the gender questions soon followed, as they usually do. It turns out I’m not a woman at all!! No wonder I’ve spent my whole life squirming in my skin. This was also a slow trickle. I still feel in the midst of the gender thing, and I’m not sure it will ever feel fixed, because I’ve come to believe that gender actually exists on a vibrant spectrum, and in my own experience it can fluctuate many times a day. This is a different essay, which I will write, just not today. 

So much of this change, self-exploration, and expression is the result of exiting an all-Christian community, moving out of my college town (although this journey did start there and I hold so much tenderness for that season) to Chicago with my partner. That move gave me the chance to see who I could be, who I am, without rules and social pressure confining my identity. Those nearly 3 years in Chicago were the first time I ever truly and wholly felt safe at home. 

August, that is because of you, and I know I tell you this all the time, but the way you have loved me and created space for me is the reason I’ve begun to heal, and I’ll never be able to thank you enough. It is a priceless gift. 

Chicago is where I built queer community for the first time, did poetry open mics talking about queer shit, got an undercut, had my first sapphic relationship, started using they/them pronouns and so much more. I find myself freer than I ever was in the first quarter of my life (I know I know I’m only 5 months into the second quarter, as if I’ll live to 100, the world will probably be over by then).

I am so proud that I’ve been brave enough to leave so much behind because I knew I was running towards something. Maybe I didn’t know it in May 2020, 3 months into quarantine and a heart-wrenching breakup, but my choice to stop going to church was me choosing myself. 

My time in Chicago was much more than just queer exploration and healing religious trauma (among other trauma lol), but I’m thankful to have been a baby queer in this city. Thankful to have met people who would have no clue that I was a devout evangelical for most of my life. I wouldn’t trade the friends who knew me before my breakup with Christianity, they know me in a way those who didn’t never will, but it has been so refreshing to just be Sage, without the religious baggage. It’s so affirming when my friends here tell me they would never guess that’s my background, especially since it’s not that far behind me (shout out to Lena <3). I’m proud not to be a bigot anymore (not sure that I ever was, but I had some seriously questionable beliefs), but it’s more than that.

It feels like proof that I’ve found myself beyond an ideology that was always telling me who and how to be. It’s nice to just be Sage. 

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Please enjoy these screenshots of me telling the friends I knew would celebrate me that I’m bi from February 2021 (the gallery will be most easily viewed from the Substack app or website). Now, go have a sparkly, fun, safe, exactly-what-you-want-it-to-be, last week of Pride month!

coming out 🌈

mutual aid spotlight

Operation Olive Branch has organized the verified gofundme’s of families in Gaza trying to escape genocide, among other mutual aid projects for Palestinians that need funding, in this spreadsheet. I urge you to pick a family(ies) to donate to. If you can’t donate, send the spreadsheet around to your friends, family, and community. Remember, our liberation is bound together. Palestine will be free, and none of us are free until Palestinians can live safely, healthily, and freely on their land.

media highlight

• TV Series: We are Lady Parts, created by Nida Manzoor, streaming on Peacock

  The two six-episode seasons tell the story of a punk band called Lady Parts, whose members are Muslim women living in London navigating life, love, family, and friendship, all while pursuing recognition as a band. It’s the best sitcom I’ve ever seen, and you need to go watch it immediately. I mean it. The show struck a comedic tone that draws you in, while simultaneously getting you invested in the characters’ deeper struggles. Honest, empowering, hilarious. I’m hungry for more!

• Album: What A Devastating Turn of Events, Rachel Chinouriri

  Potentially my top album of the year, great to blast while in the shower, there’s so much movement and feeling to this album. Chinouriri’s debut album is All I Ever (could have) Asked for ;) Give your ears, and your heart a treat & go listen!

• Book: Record of a Spaceborn Few by Becky Chambers, #3 in the Wayfarer Series

  I haven’t finished this one yet, but I’m already enjoying the third installment of my favorite sci-fi series. In the most recent chapter, there was a description of a “tryst club” that truly was the best case for sex work being accessible and safe for both client and SWer that I’ve ever read. Chambers has an incredible knack for taking something in our world that may be contentious, fraught, or inaccessible and imagining it as a normalized, accessible, and supported part of society. It never feels like a soap box or out of place, it’s always skillfully woven into the storyline. I loved this kind of world-building in the first two books as well, can’t recommend the series enough!

sage advice

Moving forward, a portion of this newsletter will be dedicated to sharing a tid bit of sage advice, hopefully in response to questions from YOU, my beloved readers. Respond to this email, comment on this post, or direct message me on Substack with your questions, sticky situations, and ponderings— anything you want! Can’t wait to chat :)