…but I don’t think God is trying to tell me something.
Underwater sculpture honoring Africans thrown overboard from the slave ships during the Middle Passage of the African Holocaust.
cred : @badmontafari & @oliver_twist
QUEENS BY: Charles Mitchell
via: little memory
The same Hebrew word that is used in Genesis 2:24 to describe how Adam felt about Eve (and how spouses are supposed to feel toward each other) is used in Ruth 1:14 to describe how Ruth felt about Naomi. Her feelings are celebrated, not condemned.
And throughout Christian history, Ruth’s vow to Naomi has been used to illustrate the nature of the marriage covenant. These words are often read at Christian wedding ceremonies and used in sermons to illustrate the ideal love that spouses should have for one another. The fact that these words were originally spoken by one woman to another tells us a lot about how God feels about same-gender relationships. —
#in your bible #emphasizing your queers
Seriously: there’s no arguing with Language. It will tell you what’s going on, if you just listen.
(Source: saxifraga-x-urbium, via lipstick-feminists)
The world is his, who can see through its pretension…
See it to be a lie, and you have already dealt it
it’s mortal blow. — Ralph Waldo Emerson
I can not tell you how long has been the case, but I grapple with the question of what’s real. Perhaps my life experience, my studies, and my artistic and spiritual pursuits have lead me to this moment, I’m not quite certain how I arrived but I think it is unlikely that I shall leave the place the same. I started college as a philosophy major, quickly realizing that all too often an argument could be logical but unsound. I moved into English and Literature, there I learned that sometimes we could find truth in “fiction,” not all the time, not overwhelmingly, but sometimes. As an artist, I learned how to live in the gray spaces between those places and how to recognize when I had been placed into one. More importantly, I learned how, all too often, who I say I am and who those around me say that I am can be a misrepresentation, for we both are already standing in a crooked room. That my blackness, my sexuality, my class background, or more importantly people outside of me’s perceptions of those things, are more about those onlookers than me, than my internal reality.
And, when love finally failed me, I finally began to question whether the spiritual tenets in my life had been built on a solid foundation.
I had thought that love and forgiveness could conquer all; I hold out hope for those phenomena as well, for what will save us in the world aside from the radical practice of the two? However, I meditate on the shakiness of the concepts. Who has told me of love? How have I not been shown its fullness, and of what I have seen, what is but a skewed reflection? How crooked are my heart and the inner rooms… without a radical shift in perception, can I ever truly realize any lasting happiness.
Yet, I can’t afford to take myself too seriously in these moments; the ultimate truth, one that I—at least at this moment—can not change is that this body that I live in and interact in is but a passing fad.
This is the point in the blog post where I get tired and just leave, without giving any closure or coming to any conclusion. Forgive me if that bothers you but, that’s where I am, that’s where I’ve been left. And though I’m not okay with it, it’s where I have lay my bags down at night and go to sleep.